Fate Calls
by Sci-Fifan95
Summary: My name is Zechariah Taylor. This is my rather... Unbelievable story. My tale began as I walked up my driveway... Increasingly AU.
1. Endings

***Looks around* Man this first chapter was filthy. It was full of misspells, missing words and improper grammar. But don't worry, I *With Crystal Prime's help of course* have started fixing all the errors I made when I first started this story :) I probably won't really change anything, but I will make the grammar on par with my later chapters.  
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><p><strong>February 17, 2012 3:24 P.M <strong>

**Somewhere in the Adirondacks**

I walked up the driveway to my house after the bus dropped me off. I thought, 'I hate this half-mile driveway. They should outlaw driveways longer than Peyton Manning's Hail Mary attempts. They've regulated almost everything else in New York.'

I finished my ten-minute walk to our middle-of-nowhere house. On my left was the forest that always held mystery for me. The opposite view held the foothills of the Adirondacks. The house itself was a medium-sized log home, complete with the lingering smell of a well-used wood stove.

Opening the door right into the most used place in the house, the living-room, I put my hoodie on the coat-rack and my books on the nearby coffee table. I turned the T.V to The Weather Channel, checking for any sign of spring. In upstate New York we usually have a six-month winter from November till April. This year was no different. Finding out that this was the only day above freezing in the month of February was disappointing but not surprising.

After turning the T.V off and getting something to eat my phone got a text. "Dad" was the caller I.D.

"Zech I forgot to tell you I'm going on a business trip after work. I'll be back by Sunday. See you then."

That message made me want to throw my phone out the window. I almost did. "Every frigging weekend it's something with him!" I yelled in my empty home.

My dad was a workaholic and had been since before my two older twin brothers, Jim and David, had enlisted in the Marine Corps. They were eight years older than me and almost never around since being deployed overseas. I hadn't seen them in almost two years. And those thoughts about my mom... those were something I didn't need to think about right now. Dwelling on that would make it worse and I have to calm down right now. After I had calmed a good deal and finally decided that throwing my phone would bring more harm than good, I chose to go The Clearing. That was a place that always calms me and makes me think with reason instead of with anger.

Walking out the backdoor, after retrieving my hoodie, I opened the shed behind the house and pulled out the ATV. In retrospect, I shouldn't have left the house, as that would be the last time I would ever see it.

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><p>Driving through the forest behind the house, I noticed the ground was still frozen solid. Even when we had above freezing temperatures the ground was still firm enough ride on. I found myself thinking back to when my brothers and I had found this place. Ten years ago we had been walking in the backwoods, and stumbled across the unique area. Jim and David had argued about the name for ten minutes when I had suggested "The Clearing". The simplicity of my suggested name stopped their argument in its tracks.<p>

_"A bit unoriginal don't you think Zech?" David had said, slightly amazed I came up with something so simple._

_"It IS a clearing" Jim pointed out._

Shaking myself out of my memories, I noticed I was in front of The Clearing. I turned off the ATV and walked through the trees that surrounded my favorite area. The Clearing was located on the top of a large hill, with trees all around except straight ahead. It had a similar view as the walk up the driveway, except there was a valley stopping you from going any further than this spot. After spending about fifteen minutes just enjoying the view, I heard thunder.

'Thunder?, it's winter. Isn't there a written rule somewhere that outlaws thunder storms in winter?' I thought, searching for where the storm was.

I saw the darkening clouds. The storm was still developing in the Northeast, or straight at my left hand side, and it looked terrifying. I thought it was time to leave. Starting to leave for home, I froze, someone was watching me. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I looked over my shoulder and immediately wished I hadn't. In the distance, I could see two electric-blue orbs of light staring directly at me. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me back to the ATV. In hindsight, trying to drive at top speed and turning to see if that thing was still watching me was not a good decision.

The log in front of me was in plain view, but I was distracted by fear. I did not see it until it was too late. In cars there are numerous safety features, airbags, seat belts, side-airbags, collision warnings with auto-breaks, and even the engine block. On most other kinds of vehicles such as ATV's, you have you grip with your legs and arms, those are your only safety features.

When the front tires hit the fallen tree and stopped dead, I kept going. I landed almost completely on my right side, breaking my ribcage, right arm and leg, and hitting my head hard enough to black out for a few seconds. Laying on the ground, with my vision blurry, and my entire body in extreme pain, I coughed up bright red blood. 'That's not good. One of my ribs must have punctured a lung'. Things were very bad. If I didn't get medical attention soon I would die very painfully, not I could die, I would die.

As I laid on the ground trying to fight death, I felt, rather than heard, footsteps. Slowly looking at the direction I came from, I saw, by far, the largest living thing I had ever seen. It was very human like, but made out of some kind of silver metal. It stood well over seventy-feet tall with what looked like a sword on its back and held a type of staff in its left hand. Leaning down to my level, I got a good look at some gold runes on its face that were written in a language I couldn't read. I was amazed. The thing watching me was a Transformer. I was not what one would call a "Transfan". I had seen the films that Michele Bay directed, played a number of the video games, and just started watching the newest cartoon, "Transformers Prime". But I never saw a character that looked like this.

'Only I could die in a forest with a thunder storm coming in winter and a transformer looking on', I thought as my eyes started to close.

"Zechariah Taylor," the unnamed transformer said in a very deep and commanding voice.

'It knows my name!'

It continued. "Be strong and you will not die here". Picking me up in its massive hand and trying not to make my injuries worse.

I heard a second voice speak. "It was my fault. If the boy hadn't seen me we could have approached without causing him fear."

The one carrying me spoke again. "We did not know how he would react to us. It's not your fault. Vector bring us back." There was a pause. "Yes, we have him, and he's seriously injured."

I was very confused 'They're here for me? Why?' A strange sound and a bright blue light stopped my thoughts. Then I heard a third voice speaking in a feminine tone. I felt a tingling starting at my head and ending at my feet.

"I can help the boy but we need to go now." Number Three said.

I felt the sensation of moving forward and saw a flash. After that I knew no more.

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><p><strong>And so that was the beginning of Fate Calls, with improved grammar. I hope anyone who has just decided to give it a look likes it, and if you've already read through this chapter, thanks for reading it again :)<strong>

**This chapter's credit song is "Linkin Park - New Divide" Listen to the lyrics *And everything else of course* And it suits the ending of the chapter perfectly.**

**Now, I have more chapters to clean up *Grabs broom and dustpan* I hope to see any new readers in my next update, and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.**


	2. And Beginnings

**Wow... Took me a while to fix the grammar is this chapter, huh? Well, at least it's done now.**

**ReverseSceptile - Optimus will definitely be in this story. I can only hope It'll be badass.**

**gamergirl052 - Thank you, as you can see, I did continue.**

**Anduren - Glad you like the story. And thanks for my first Review!.**

**TRANSFORMERS-O.P.-ADDICT - Thanks for the review, seeing I got four reviews just after the prologue and I have seen storys with over a hundred thousand words without a single review... I'm serious I will definitely keep it up.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.**

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><p><strong>Unknown time.<strong>

**Unknown place.**

I woke up with most of my body throbbing in pain. Wherever I was it sounded strange, like every little thing you did made a noise that would echo.

'What happened?' I thought.

Opening my eyes, I was greeted by a strange desert. Sand was blowing in all directions, but I felt no wind. Storm clouds were above me, but they were just sitting there. There was not even a growl of thunder.

'How did I get here?' I asked myself.

My photographic memory took over at that thought. Images and impressions quickly assaulted my conscience. I felt the anger and frustration at my dad, relived my trip to The Clearing, heard the freak thunder storm, saw those surprised blue eyes staring at me. I saw myself running in fear, crashing the ATV, being picked up by a Transformer, heard more voices, and then finally seeing nothing.

I shook my head to stop the memories from getting me off track. This place was familiar and I definitely had seen it before. My eyes widened.

'This is where Sam Witwicky meets the Primes,' I thought with amazement. Then it hit me. 'If I'm here, and this isn't a dream, as I'm still in pain, then how is this possible?'

I was standing in the same spot for what felt like forever before a voice said, "I see you're awake."

I almost yelled in surprise then turned around. Standing not far from me was a female transformer. She was much shorter than the one I encountered in the forest, but still was ridiculously tall. I estimated her at around thirty-five feet. The unnamed female...or Femme Transformer, or whatever they were called, was dark grey in color with blue optics and a warhammer on her back. She had what I could only call an aura that commanded respect.

She spoke again, "As you humans say, you were at death's door."

After I got over my shock, I answered with, "How did I get here?"

"You were brought here after you were injured," she answered.

I paused for a second then asked "Where is here?"

"That will be explained soon," she replied and lowered a hand. "Want a lift? The others want to speak with you."

I hesitated, looked at her hand and then back up at her face. "Please don't drop me, I would likely break both of my legs, not just one". I said while taking the offer of a ride.

After ten minutes of walking, the unnamed femme stopped and said, "This is our stop." Then she set me down.

Just as my feet hit the ground a very familiar voice spoke.

I heard, "I believe introductions are in order."

I looked toward the spot where the voice came from. My jaw dropped when I recognized the transformer who saved me in the forest. Now that I wasn't half dead, I realized he had an aura similar to the femme. His presence screamed, "Leader". I noticed that I was in the middle of a circle surrounded by five transformers, including the two that I had seen before. The transformer I encountered in the forest introduced himself first.

"I am called Prima," he said.

Next came the introduction from the femme. She stated, "I am Solus Prime."

A blue-gold and red mech was standing just behind me. He carried formidable staff, taller than he stood. He said, "I'm Zeta Prime."

Next to speak was a light grey and black mech with what looked like clock on his chest. He said his name was Vector Prime. The last one to introduce himself was a mostly red mech with glowing gold runes on his shoulders and around his optics. He was almost the same height as Prima.

"And I am known as Alpha Trion", he said.

Prima concluded with, "We are what is left of 'The Thirteen', or 'The Dynasty of Primes' as we are known to some."

I was in awe of each of the transformers around me. They all held a fire that inspired you and made you feel perfectly safe. If any one of them had said, "Boy, I need you to go jump off a cliff", I would likely have done it. After I hadn't said anything for about a minute, Prima broke the silence.

"Are you malfunctioning?" he asked with humor in his voice. That question pulled me out of my trance.

"Why am I here?" I finally asked.

He answered easily, "Primus told us bring to you here. Why you are here is not known even to us."

'Okay, so no one knows why I'm here,' I thought. "So where is here?" I asked, looking at the unique desert and bizarre clouds.

This time Vector answered, "We are in a Pocket Universe in which I can see Parallel Realities and all possible outcomes to each reality. I even open doors into them." he said excitedly.

I blinked once then twice. "Okay", I said slowly not wanting to have him explain again. "If we are in a parallel reality, how did we get here? And what happened to me in my reality?"

Vector tried to explain again but was cut off by Zeta.

"Prima and I were trying to approach you in the forest but you humans have the most annoying ability to sense when someone is watching you," he said with a huff. Apparently, he was the one I spotted in the forest.

Solus laughed and ignored the glare Zeta sent her. "Don't mind him, he's just annoyed you saw him."

The rest of the Primes were amused by Zeta's embarrassment of being seen.

I smiled and said, "I knew that, but I still would like to know what happened to me."

Solus stopped laughing and stiffened. Zeta's glare that had been redirected at me for my comment softened and everyone else became grave.

Prima voice was gentle and filled with regret, "Child... In your reality... You died".

I was stunned. "Wh- what do mean 'died'? I was alive when I came here!" I knew I shouldn't be mad at them. After all I was the one who hit a tree, but being told I'm actually dead is a bit of a shock.

Vector followed up Prima's statement, "What Prima means is that if you go back to your reality you will die. The storm you saw was supposed to kill you."

That made me calm down quite a bit. 'They saved me,' I realized. My next thought was remembering the storm. "Severe thunder storms are very rare in winter, and even more rare in upstate New York, how bad was the storm?" I asked, lacking my earlier anger.

Prima spoke to Vector, "Show him."

Vector closed his optics and held a hand toward me. A second later there was what looked like a window directly in front of me.

Looking inside, I saw a female weather reporter announcing, "This just in, a freak storm is hitting New York State from the Adirondacks to the outskirts of The Big Cit-". It quickly cut to another weather report. "What people are calling 'Labor Day Storm's Big Sister' is just devastating New Yo-".

It cut again and was replaced this time with a news anchor with a story about my home town. "Tonight a small town in the Adirondacks remembers one of their own. Missing since last Friday, seventeen year old Zechariah Taylor was declared dead yesterday."

A picture of me came up in the window and was replaced by footage of my entire town's population standing outside in the town square. They all held candles and sang quietly. The scene changed and I saw all my school friends standing together, some with tears in their eyes. I saw my friends being interviewed.

"If you don't mind me asking," the field reporter said in a respectful whisper, "What are these the songs you're singing? 'Three Days Grace', and 'Breaking Benjamin' are not bands normally used in memorial services," he finished.

Holding the mic, one of my close friends told him, "He...he would want us to sing his favorite songs, not typical funeral songs."

The news crew cut to an interview with two people I hadn't seen in almost two years. My brothers were on the screen. Both of them were there in uniform, towering over the reporter, neither one of them looking comfortable at being interviewed.

"What will you remember most about your brother?" the reporter asked.

Jim and David both looked slightly surprised by the question. They anticipated more disrespectful questions from the reporter. David answered first.

He said simply, "His sense of humor."

Jim then replied with a slight smile, "I remember the fact he was as mature as we were when he was six. And no matter what we did...he always backed us up," Jim finished, looking at the reporter with a stoic face, characteristic of any seasoned soldier.

"Thank you for your time, and I'm truly sorry for your loss." the reporter said to my brothers. They must have said "thank you", but I wasn't listening anymore.

The window faded away after that. I was still in shock. I just stood there dumbfounded. Solus shook me out of my stupor.

"Should we go over the remainder later?" she asked me in a gentle tone.

I looked at her with moist eyes. "No," I said, wiping my eyes and continuing. "My brothers taught me to face problems sooner rather than later." I looked back at Prima. "Thank you for allowing me to see what happened."

He just nodded and asked, "Do you have any more questions?"

I didn't hesitate and spoke again. "How did my father react? He wasn't interviewed."

Prima explained, "It broke him. He sold your house to your brothers the day you were declared dead, then moved west."

It didn't surprise me that he would bury his grief so deeply he would never recover. I asked the obvious question, "How am I okay?"

Solus was the one who answered. "First off, a second scan revealed your injuries were much worse than I originally thought." Pausing to bring up a holographic image of what looked like me she continued. "You fractured your skull here," she highlighted my temple. "You broke your right arm and leg." The limbs in question were also highlighted. "But your most life-threatening injury was your punctured lung. I used exactly nine thousand, four hundred and eighteen of my own Nanites to stabilize you. However, there is... A side effect"

That didn't sound good. "What kind of side effect?" I asked with uncertainty.

The silence was total. Solus looked at Prima for permission to answer. With his approving nod she carefully replied, "The faint throbbing you have been feeling has an explanation. It's the Nanites... They're multiplying and... Slowly changing you into a Cybertronian. Technicality speaking, I would be your Femme Creator."

There is nothing anyone could have done to prepare me for that bombshell. If what they said was true, I had to accept the reality that I would become a Cybertronian with Solus basically as my mother. All I wanted to do was argue that they were all wrong and that they had somehow made a mistake. What I ended up saying was, "Oh."

After another minute or two of silence I spoke again, "Could be worse I guess. I could be turned into a dog or something," I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Solus let out a breath in relief at my response. "You're right," she said. "The news could have been worse."

I nodded and replied, "I owe you my life. Thank you...Mom?" I said with a half-hearted question.

She just smiled at that.

After another ten minutes of talking with Solus, Vector, and Zeta, Prima ended our conversation.

"Time for you to go to your new home Zechariah," he said.

Vector opened another window in front of me. This one was looked large enough for my six and a half foot height to comfortably walk through. Within the window I saw a teenager walking down an alley. Soon after him came a woman riding a blue motorcycle. She quickly overtook him and skidded to a halt directly in front of him. I recognized this scene from the first episode of "Transformers Prime". The teenager's name was Jack Darby. The woman was merely a hologram. The motorcycle was Arcee, a member of the Autobots.

I looked at Prima. "I'm going in there?" He nodded and I sighed. Looking at the primes, I said, "Will I see any of you again?"

"Maybe," Alpha Trion spoke mysteriously.

"Now go, you're on a tight schedule," Solus said, making a shooing motion with her hands.

I took a breath, squared my shoulders and stepped through the door to my new home.

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><p><strong>I am not going to lie, I'm a little scared that I once wrote with such terrible grammar... It's surprising to see how much I've improved since I started this story.<br>**

**This chapter's credit song is "Fired Earth Music - Man Of Steel Remix" I forgot why I picked this song... Oh well, it does suit the ending.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	3. Jasper

***Is dusting off the words* Wow, that one took a while to clean, mostly because of laziness on my part, but still.  
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******Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.******

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><p><strong><strong>Unknown Date<strong>**

**Jasper, Nevada**

Being weightless is the best way to describe my brief trip between realities. However, as I said, it's brief. One second I was standing in a desert, the next I was in an alley.

I recognized this place from the show.

Jack started down the alley a few seconds after my arrival.

From where I was standing, I could see him but he couldn't see me.

Jack was relatively tall, standing about six feet with jet black hair and steel blue eyes. If you overlooked the height difference and hair color, we looked like brothers.

The blue and pink motorcycle that was Arcee wasn't far behind.

Before Jack had walked twenty feet into the alley, she did a perfect one-eighty, blocking his path. She started the conversation. "Relax, I just want to talk to you."

"Don't you mean you and your new friend?" Jack said, referring to the hologram.

"Kid, there's a lot you don't understand," Arcee replied, dismissing her hologram.

Jack started backing up. "No, I get it. I get it. The first rule of robot fight club is you don't talk about robot fight club." He continued as he walked away, "What you need to understand is, I don't want a bunch of crazy talking vehicles following me around trying to get me killed!"

Arcee did a mind-bending transformation as Jack went on his rant. Thousands of Arcee's parts were changing shape and mass. Each gave off a little mechanical whirl, reminding me of the movies. It was very difficult to follow what was happening because of its incredible complexity. After just a few seconds she finished changing into her true form.

'Now that is going to take some getting used to,' I thought. A new voice, which I knew was Miko, made me realize I had spaced out and missed the rest of the conversion.

"Dude, what are you waiting for? Go with her!" She said, obviously excited.

There was a short silence before I broke it. "I agree with her, you would be a fool not to go," I said, walking toward them.

The look on their faces when they turned to me was priceless. "Ah slag," Arcee cursed, lifting a finger to to the side of her head. "'Bee, I need you to pick another one up," she sighed.

Miko was much shorter than Jack or me. She stood around five feet tall, her hair was reddish brown with part of it dyed pink and tied in a narrow braid at the back.

She ran right up to the three of us. "This is so cool! Don't you guys think this is cool?" she said to us. She then asked Arcee questions at a speed I didn't think possible. "Who was that 'Bee guy you talked to? Is he nice? Where are you taking us? Is it a metal concert?! Do you like music? How did you change like that?"

Arcee's optics looked like they were about to pop out, but Miko hadn't stopped talking. "How fast can you go? Have you ever been pulled over? Do you use gas?"

I stopped listening even though the questions continued on and on. I just sat down at the curb, waiting for Bumblebee.

The yellow and black custom muscle car Bumblebee chose as his alternate form arrived less then a minute later. The driver's side door opened and I climbed in. After Bumblebee closed the door, I saw a young boy with glasses and spiky brown hair.

"Hi, I'm Raf," he introduced himself. I was already aware of who he was, but I was waiting to explain that information until everyone was present.

"Nice to meet you Raf, my name's Zechariah, but I prefer Zech".

He nodded and tried to say something, but Bee cut him off with a series of beeps. "He said his name's Bumblebee," Raf translated. I looked to the dashboard.

"Guess that explains the paint job. Nice to meet you." He beeped once in response. Genuinely curious, I turned to Raf and I asked, "How did you understand him?".

He shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I don't know, I just do".

Before I could comment, Bumblebee drove off the curb and I heard Arcee's high-pitched motorcycle engine following behind us.

The drive to base went by fast. Raf, Bumblebee and I conversed about various video games and movies. I found it odd to be talking to a car's dashboard, but Raf proved to be an able translator. We were still talking when the terrain changed from asphalt to sand and dirt. As I looked out the windshield all I saw was a rock wall.

"What are you doing, 'Bee?" Raf asked, with a little fear in his voice. I didn't know what Bumblebee's exact response was because only Raf could understand him.

I think he said something like, "Going to base."

As the wall of rock got closer, I couldn't stop bracing myself for the worst. My fears were very short lived as the rock suddenly slid into the ground to reveal an enormous hidden door behind the rock face. Once we drove through the door, we found ourselves in long, well-lit tunnel. It led into a massive room that easily could have held a skyscraper.

Bumblebee opened the doors for us, and Raf and I climbed out. On the right side of the room was a white and red mech which could only be Ratchet. He stood in front of several computer monitors and gave us a mildly annoyed look.

Directly in front of us was a green and black mech as wide as he was tall looking down at us with a curious expression. On the left was the Ground Bridge. It was much larger than I expected. A football field would easily fit between me and the end of it. Both Arcee and Bumblebee transformed to their true forms after Jack and Miko got off Arcee.

Now that Arcee wasn't crouched over, I guessed her height at roughly two thirds of Solus's. Like all the Autobots, she had blue optics. After years of seeing my brothers hiding their pain following combat tours, I knew Arcee held a lot of regret behind her optics.

Bumblebee was around twenty-eight feet tall, making him around four feet taller than Arcee. Just by looking at his optics you could tell he was much younger than the others.

Ratchet was about thirty feet tall, just over Bumblebee's height and seemed to have an annoyed look etched permanently on his face.

Bulkhead was the largest of them. I estimated him at the same height as Solus or perhaps a bit taller.

He was looking at us as if we would break if he stepped on the floor too hard.

"I thought there were two humans, not four?" Ratchet asked looking at Miko then me.

"Haven't you heard? Humans multiply," Arcee said with a hand on her hip as she walked away.

"Not that fast," I said under my breath.

Raf tried to introduce himself to Miko. "I'm Raf," he said, holding out a hand.

Miko, however, was transfixed on the Autobots. "I'm Miko," she said, walking up to Bulkhead. "Who are you?"

"Bulkhead," he answered simply, but it was enough for Miko to start asking questions again.

She took in a sharp breath. "Are you a car? I bet you're a truck, a monster truck! Do you like heavy metal? How much do you weigh? Ever use a Wrecking Ball for a punching bag?" She had asked all of this in the space of three seconds. Bulkhead looked at me and Jack for help.

I just mouthed 'Good luck.'

"So if you guys are robots, who made you?" Raf asked, looking up at our hosts.

"Plllleeeeease," Ratchet scoffed, making that short word sound twice as long. Very loud footsteps behind me caused us all to turn toward the Ground Bridge.

The unmistakable form of Optimus Prime was walking towards us. He was at least forty-five or fifty feet tall and towered over the rest of his soldiers. He reminded me of Prima. If I was in a battle, outnumbered twenty to one, and he was all the reinforcements I would get, I think we would win.

"We are Autonomous Robotic Organisms from the planet Cybertron. We are also known as Autobots," he spoke in a deep voice filled with wisdom and experience.

Jack boldly stepped forward. "Why are you here?" He asked, looking up at the Autobot leader.

Optimus answered without hesitating, "To protect your planet from the Decepticons".

Arcee added, "The jokers that tried to bump us off last night".

"Okay..." Jack said, not sounding like he really understood, "Why are they here?"

Optimus leaned down to be more at our level. "A fair question, Jack. In part, they are here because our planet is uninhabitable, ravaged by centuries of civil war."

Raf asked, "Why were you fighting a war?" His voice was saddened to hear their planet was basically a dead world.

The question was again answered by Optimus. "Foremost, over control of our world's supply of Energon, the fuel and life-blood of all Autobots and Decepticons alike." The look on his face grew distant and he continued, "The combat was fierce and endured for centuries." His tone became regretful, "In the beginning, I fought along side one whom I considered a brother... But in war, ideals can be corrupted and it was thus that Megatron lost his way."

I heard a sigh off to my right. "Is there going to be a quiz?" Miko asked in a bored voice.

I was very temped to yell at her for being so rude but I held my tongue.

Jack gave Miko glare, then looked back at Optimus. "So what does Megatron or any of this have to do with us?"

The last of the Primes said, "Megatron has not been seen nor heard from in some time, but if his return is imminent as I fear, it could be catastrophic."

'Now is as good a time as any,' I thought, stepping forward. "My name is Zechariah Taylor, and before I say anything, do you all know of The Multiverse Theory?" I asked, looking around at everyone in the room.

Jack and Miko got confused looks on their faces but Raf and all the Autobots nodded.

I took a breath and let it out. "It's not a theory anymore, I'm not from this reality. Where I come from, the Autobots and Decepticons don't exist. They are just works of fiction".

There was a long silence. Everyone other then Ratchet and Optimus seemed to have some form of shock on their face. Raf, Jack and Miko's jaws looked as if they would fall off. Bulkhead's optics had doubled in size, while Bumblebee and Arcee were just blinking rapidly.

"Can you prove your claim?" Optimus voiced, not revealing any shock if he had any.

I nodded. "In my reality, this one was just the latest cartoon called 'Transformers Prime'. I had just started watching the first season when I came here. I only got to episode three".

"Latest cartoon?" Ratchet asked me curiously before I could finish.

"Yes, I think there was a total of...". I paused for a second counting in my head, "I want to say nine different cartoons came out since the original one in the eighties, There also was a Live-Action film trilogy," I looked back at Optimus. "To prove my claim, I know the tunnel behind you is not a tunnel but a Ground Bridge which is a scaled down version of Space Bridge Technology." I walked off to his left, looking at the massive device. "Ratchet constructed the Ground Bridge to enable travel from here to anywhere on earth instantly." The surprise in Optimus's optics was clear. "I also know that your computer system is filled with errors since Human tech is very primitive compared to your technology", I said as I looked at the computer monitors

. Before I could say anything else, Optimus held up a hand. "That is enough. I believe you." He looked at me and asked, "Can you explain how you came to be here?". I sighed and said, "Make yourselves comfortable, this will take awhile".

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><p><strong>*Looks at the song he had as his credit song, "Immediate Music - With Great Power"* *Is confused why he chose that as the credit song back when he wrote the chapter* I think I just chose credit songs based on how I liked the song, not if it suited the ending of the chapter, because this song is way too epic for a chapter like this. So I think I will keep this song for later.<strong>

**Anyway, I hope anyone reading this for the first time enjoys it enough that they will stick with Fate Calls for a while, it will get better, since this is an early chapter where I was still learning how to write. Goodbye for now.**


	4. Autobot Base

***Is cleaning the floors* Another chapter clean. :)**

**lastdragonrider - Thanks for the advice, but I don't really know what you mean...can you tell I'm new at writing?**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.**

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><p><strong>Unknown date<strong>

**Autobot Base outside Jasper, Nevada**

Telling the story of how I went from opening my front door to stepping through the window into this reality took me about half an hour.

Ratchet was the first one to talk after I finished speaking.

"It's impossible!" He started, "Just you coming through the Multiverse and living is almost impossible! In addition you claim to have meet the Original Thirteen, and they apparently saved you from death!." His yelling was terrifying and amusing at the same time. "AND, you also claim to have Nanites inside you that are both fixing your injuries and changing you into one of us! I admit, I don't know much of human biology, however, I know enough that when energon is in an organic's blood it's more toxic than anything else on this planet." He concluded.

"If you don't believe me then scan me and see for yourself," I said as I crossed my arms over my chest.

Ratchet grumbled something under his breath, but nodded, "Fine," he said, voice filled with annoyance, then started his scan. Ratchet looking over the scan data when he got a confused look on his face and scanned me again.

"Hey! I didn't say scan me twice!" My protest fell on deaf ears... No, on Audio Receptors. 'What? How did I know that? Come to think of it, how do I know what an optic is? Or how did I know that mech and femme are their version of man and woman? How do I know what the Multiverse Theory is?'

Ratchet's next statement pulled me out of my thoughts. "How... How is this possible?" he said, not looking up from the scan results.

"Ratchet? What isn't possible?" Optimus asked, looking at me curiously then at Ratchet. Still staring at his scanner, Ratchet answered Optimus' question.

"What he said was true. He's changing a Cybertronian... I don't know how, but he is." He walked off to his computer screens and said, "I need to run more tests."

Optimus introduced the rest of the Autobots to Raf, Jack and Miko, but not me, for obvious reasons. I could tell that Arcee didn't trust me. She kept looking at me as if I was going to jump up and yell "All hail Megatron!" At any moment. I couldn't blame her. Up until recently, if someone came up to me and said they were from another reality where I was just a character in a cartoon, I would have said they were crazy.

I pushed my thoughts aside for now, concentrating on the conversation Raf, Miko and Jack were having with the Autobots.

"... Since you three now know of our existence, I fear that as of last night the Decepticons know of yours," Optimus said to them.

Jack said, "Got it. If we spot any strange vehicles call 9-1-1."

I face-palmed. I knew he was going to say that, but it was still painfully bad. "Jack... What are the police going to do? Give the Decepticons a ticket?" I asked sarcastically.

Jack sent a glare my way before continuing to speak. "Can we go now? I mean we don't know anything significant about you besides your names," he said, obviously wanting to just go home and forget this ever happened.

'Wow, that's a pretty good point.. Except the fact we know where their base is,' I thought.

Optimus had the same thought as I did, "You know where our base is located and the Decepticons do not, so it is best that you all remain under our watch."

Arcee threw in her two cents, "The Cons will torture you to find out every little detail they think you know... Or just for sport." Her optics grew distant when she said that last part.

Ratchet turned from his computers, "With all due respect, Optimus. The human children are in as much danger here as anywhere," he said as he looked at the four of us.

"Children!" Jack said in an offended tone.

Ratchet continued, "They have no protective shell. If they get under foot they will go... Squish." He got a disgusted look on his face and slammed his foot down hard enough us humans in attendance to flinch.

"Then for the time being, Ratchet, we must watch where we step." Optimus said, looking slightly amused by Ratchet's behavior.

I leaned toward Raf, "Is it just me? Or did he sound like a Jedi when he said that?"

Before Raf could answer, an alarm sounded throughout the base.

"What's that?" Jack asked, still looking up at the Autobots.

'Oh joy. Agent Fowler is here, this should be interesting.' I thought with a sigh.

Bumblebee beeped a few times and Raf translated, "He says that's the proximity sensor. It means someone's up top."

Ratchet moved to a different computer screen, bringing up a video feed from a security camera. "It's Agent Fowler, Optimus," he said, sounding slightly angry.

"I thought we were the only humans who knew about you guys." Jack seemed confused.

"Unfortunately not, Jack" I said too quietly for anyone to hear.

Optimus answered Jack's question, "Agent Fowler is our designated liaison to your country's government, as he only visits when there are... Issues. It is best that the four of you don't meet him at this time."

Jack, Raf, Miko and I ran to get behind a wall just to the left of Arcee.

I heard the elevator stop at our floor and a second later the angry voice of Special Agent William Fowler was echoing across the room. "Seven wrecks, thirty-four fender-benders, a three-hour traffic jam, and on a particular note, numerous reports of a speeding motorcycle of unknown make, and a black and yellow custom muscle car."

Fowler himself was tall, around six-four, and looked slightly overweight, he wore a grey suit with a tie that was much too small for him.

"So, anything you care to get off your tin chest, Prime?" he asked, not intimidated by Optimus standing just a few feet in front of him.

"I already don't like him," Miko said, referring to Fowler. Miko's comment made me miss a few seconds of the conversation.

"...The Cons are back aren't they?" Fowler asked.

"I have doubts they ever left. Agent Fowler, your planet is much too valuable," Optimus said diplomatically.

"Then I need to wake up the Pentagon." Fowler said.

Optimus stopped him from continuing by holding up a hand. "Hear me, Agent Fowler. We are your best, possibly your only, defense against the Decepticons," he said, likely trying to keep their liaison calm.

"Says you." Fowler was obviously ready to end the conversation by storming out.

Before Bulkhead spoke you could have cut the tension in the air with a knife.

"Hey, fleshy!" Fowler turned toward Bulkhead. "Did any human get splattered on the freeway? No? Well, that's because Team Prime knows when to use force," he said, pulling something that looked important from Ratchet's workstation. "And we know how much to use," he finished by crushing the piece of machinery in his hands.

"I needed that, Bulkhead!" A wrench hit Bulkhead right between the optics. I don't know where Ratchet got the wrench, but he already had a second ready to throw in his hand.

"Enough!" Optimus half yelled, stopping Ratchet from throwing another wrench and Bulkhead from taking cover behind the same wall as us. Optimus continued, "Military involvement will only cause the deaths of countless humans. Perhaps you can accept the widespread destruction of your planet. I, however, cannot."

Fowler was walking back to the elevator when he spoke over his shoulder. "Then deal with this under the radar, Prime. Or I will," he said just as the elevator doors closed.

"Not a very nice guy, is he?" Jack stated, as he along with Miko, Raf and I walked up the stairs toward Ratchet's main computer screen.

"Agent Fowler is concerned for Earth, Jack, as he should be," Optimus said, still looking at the elevator doors.

Ratchet started yelling at Bulkhead about his broken tool when we came closer. "Did you think before you did that! That was a very important piece of equipment! You better hope we have another one in storage, or Primus help me-." He let out string of very colorful language that made Raf cover his own ears.

"So, if you're from another world... Reality... Whatever it's called, where all our world is fiction... Do you know what is going to happen in the future?" Jack asked me after Ratchet ended his rant. I noticed the Autobots seemed to pay close attention to our conversation.

"To be honest, most of my knowledge was about the live-action movies, as I told Ratchet, this reality was a weekly T.V show, one that I only recently had started to watch. I know what will happen tomorrow, but beyond that, I have no more clue then you." I replied.

Raf followed Jack's question with one of his own, "So... What happens tomorrow?"

Before I could come up with a suitable answer, I heard Ratchet curse under his breath, "Damn this Earth tech." He looked up from his computer screens. "Cliffjumper's life-signal just popped back up online."

"Who's Cliffjumper?" Miko asked, confused. Her question was ignored.

"How is that possible?" Optimus asked his medic, just as confused as Miko, but for a different reason.

Ratchet shook his head, "It's not. It's just another bug in the system. This human tech is filled with them."

"If there's any chance Cliff's alive..." Arcee left her sentence hanging. Her voice was filled with hope, hope I was about to crush.

Optimus turned toward the Ground Bridge and snapped his battle mask over his face. "Ratchet, prepare the sick bay. If we bring Cliffjumper back he will need it."

I sighed, "It's not Cliffjumper." My statement made everyone stop in their tracks and look in my direction.

Most of the looks I was getting were of curiosity. Arcee's however, was one of anger. "You better explain what you mean, fast" she said threateningly.

"What I mean, Arcee, is yes, Cliffjumper's body is online, but he was gone the moment Ratchet lost his signal, the moment Starscream killed him." I said as I briefly looked at Cliffjumper's tracker on Ratchet's screen before looking back at the Autobots.

Arcee's optics lit up with fury when I mentioned Starscream killed Cliffjumper, but she said nothing.

Optimus took a few steps toward me. "Now it is my turn to ask what you mean," his voice had taken the same tone that he had when he spoke with Fowler.

I grimaced. "Megatron has returned, he brought Cliffjumper's body to an energon mine... and put a shard of Dark Energon in his spark chamber." The Autobots had mixed looks of shock and horror on their faces as I said this. "The shard revived him... But it also made him into a mindless killing machine that will attack both Autobots and Decepticons alike," I finished.

"Do you expect us to stay here and not go and try to save Cliffjumper?" Arcee asked angrily. "Just because you say he's offline doesn't mean I am going to believe you."

"I don't expect you to stay here, nor do I expect you to believe what I say. Just be warned that you may not find the Cliffjumper you knew," I said carefully.

Arcee didn't say anything but she was glaring daggers at me.

"We will go and bring Cliffjumper home," Optimus said, getting between Arcee and I.

Ratchet opened the Ground Bridge at Optimus' unspoken command.

"Autobots, roll out!" Optimus said as he, Bulkhead, Bumblebee and Arcee transformed into their alt modes driving into the Ground Bridge. Arcee was moving noticeably faster than the others.

I heard human-sized footsteps coming toward me. "So... Drama!" Miko said with some humor, likely trying to lighten my obviously grim mood.

"I thought Arcee was going to melt you with her eyes the way she glaring at you," Jack said, also trying to lighten the mood.

I gave a slight smile. "Thanks for trying, guys. I just need to think about something else other than what they may find," I said, looking at the Ground Bridge.

"Maybe we could ponder where Ratchet got that wrench he threw at Bulkhead...or where Ratchet learned such creative cursing," Raf joked.

That made me laugh. "Nice one, Raf," I said as I gave him a high five.

After what must have been several hours later Raf was still on the platform next to Ratchet and Jack. Miko and I got bored and were walking around the main room when Miko suddenly sprinted off to my right.

"What is this anyway, Ratchet?" she asked, almost touching what looked like a control console left over from the previous human owners.

Ratchet answered gruffly, "It's broken, don't touch it."

Miko tried touching it anyway. "I said don't touch it," Ratchet said without turning around. Miko tried touching something else beside the console. "Don't touch that either," he said, again without turning, which made Miko narrow her eyes at his back.

Jack looked at me. "Is there anything we can touch?" he said loud enough for Ratchet to hear.

Ratchet just looked at us annoyed until an error popped up on his computer screen.

"Why are you using human computers?" Raf asked, looking confused.

"It's definitely not by choice. We inherited these computer systems from the previous owners and I make modifications when I need to," Ratchet said, obviously used to the odd pop-up error. However, as he tried to fix the error another dozen popped up, making him sigh heavily. Raf looked at the screen for a second.

"I can fix that," he said confidently.

I could almost hear Ratchet roll his optics before saying sarcastically, "Reeaallly? You do know this is very complex technology for humans, don't you? It's not one of your normal computers."

As they were talking I climbed the ladder next to Raf and got to the top just as Raf said, "Now try it."

Ratchet looked back at the computer and all the errors were fixed. He turned and looked at Raf in shock.

"That's what we humans call getting served," I said dryly now leaning against the desk in front of Raf.

Ratchet sent a glare my way and I smiled in return. Then my eyes widened as the computer screen behind Ratchet changed. It now held the test results of his scan of me... It was highlighting several anomalies.

It only took a split second for Ratchet to see where I was looking and change the screen back to normal, but I still had time to read one thing that was highlighted over the image of my chest.

_Test completed. _

_Anomalies now classified as Unidentified Foreign Objects._

_Recommendation: More thorough medical scans of highlighted areas to determine origins of Unidentified Objects.  
><em>

That made my blood run cold. 'There's something inside me that is not even identifiable by the Autobots?' Ratchet and I just stood there, neither one of us saying anything. He knew I read at least part of the test results.

Raf ended the silence, "Zech? Why are you so pale?" He clearly didn't have time to read the text on the screen.

"It's nothing Raf," I said as evenly as I could, and walked toward the elevator.

"Hey! where are you going?" I heard Jack ask me.

"I'm going to get some air." I replied, just as I hit the button that said 'Top Level.'

As the elevator was much faster than any I remember being on, the ride to the top was short. The first thing I did when the elevator doors opened was look for a good spot to sit and think. I found a lone tree on the far side of the mountain above the helicopter pad. I took the time to think about everything that had happened to me over the last day. I wondered how my brothers' lives went on after I died in my reality. I saw how they reacted at my memorial service, but was I clueless as to how their lives turned out years after that. I also thought about how I was changing into a Cybertronian and Solus Prime would basically be my mother. Even as I sat there, I could feel some faint throbbing that she said I would experience.

What most confused me was that I knew things I couldn't possibly have known before I woke up in the Pocket Universe. It wasn't as if I learned things rapidly, or I just heard the words somewhere, I simply had expanding knowledge of my new world, and I couldn't even grasp how it was happening...it just was. I sat on the roots of the tree for at least half an hour, not only pondering new life, but grieving for my old one. I finally stood up and got back in the elevator, having said good-by to my old life in my way by not shedding tears. I hadn't truly cried since I was six. When something affected me enough my eyes would become moist, like looking at the news reports, but I didn't consider that crying. The opening elevator doors snapped me out of my thoughts. Stepping out of the elevator I saw that Raf, Miko, Jack, and even Ratchet were watching me.

"Do I have something in my teeth?" I joked as I put my arms behind my back.

"So... What did you see that made you go out there?" Jack asked simply.

I shrugged, "I don't know," I began, looking at Jack then turning to Ratchet. "What did I see, Ratchet?" I asked as I narrowed my eyes.

"Something you were not supposed to see until I confirmed my findings and spoke with Optimus about it," he huffed.

I sighed, "Fine. I just would like to know about it as soon as possible. After all, I'm the one with the anomalies."

He just grunted in acknowledgement.

I didn't have enough time to start a conversation with anyone before I heard Optimus' voice through the computer.

_"Ratchet, bridge us back! Use the arrival coordinates now!"_ He yelled. You could hear explosions in the background.

Ratchet quickly started entering numbers into a computer next to his main workstation and pulled a lever. Now that I really looked at it, the activated ground bridge was a breathtaking sight. It was like seeing the Northern Lights in a tunnel.

It was a sight I normally would have gawked at had it not been for the impenetrable wall of blue flame directly behind the bots. Arcee was the first one to clear the ground bridge, followed closely by Bumblebee, then Bulkhead. Before Optimus even cleared the ground bridge, Ratchet pushed the same lever used to activate the ground bridge to turn it off. Optimus transformed into his true form as he was still moving. He flipped, rolled and landed on his feet in one smooth maneuver that he made look easy but I doubt that I would ever be able to do. Jack, Raf and Miko's jaws looked as if they would fall off even more than when I said I was from a different reality. Of course, I still had a look of awe on my face even though I knew Optimus was likely to do that. They didn't.

"Cutting it close, aren't you?" Ratchet said, looking at the rest of the Autobots "What about Cliffjumper?" Was his tone concerned? I couldn't tell.

All the bots except Arcee lowered their heads in sadness. Arcee was just looking at a wall but not seeing anything or anyone in the room. Miko started to run up toward the railing. Before she had taken three steps, I grabbed her arm just hard enough to stop her from moving. I had reacted much faster than I thought I could.

Miko spoke before I had time to ponder this. "Hey! What gives?" She asked loud enough for the bots to hear, causing them to look in our direction.

I whispered, "Miko, if you were going to ask what that explosion was about, or if there was a fight, then don't say anything. The Autobots just lost a friend and brother-in-arms for the second time in two days."

A look of understanding crossed Miko's face and she walked back to her spot next to Jack. I gave the bots a quick look and walked back and leaned on the desk next to Raf.

"Arcee, did you find Cliffjumper?" Optimus asked gently. I noticed all the bots were looking at Arcee with concern in their optics, even Ratchet.

Arcee crossed her arms over her chest and when she spoke her voice had no emotion at all, "It wasn't him, at least... Not anymore..." She put a hand over her spark chamber. "He looked like a failed Con experiment from the war." She looked at me, "Looks like you proved your story was true," she said with a slightly angry tone.

I sighed, "It was my not intention to prove anything Arcee, it was to warn you of what you may find... I'm truly sorry for your loss." I immediately regretted my words.

"What could you, a seventeen-year old possibly know about loss?!" Arcee yelled, she was beyond angry at this point, she just plain pissed.

Before I could answer, her optics grew dim and she fell to one knee catching herself on a generator just before she collapsed. Bumblebee beeped in distress, walking closer to help Arcee up. The other Autobots also looked worried.

"I'm fine, just dizzy," Arcee said, holding up a hand and leaning on the generator even more.

Jack, Miko and Raf didn't say anything, they just looked at the Autobots in shock, most likely realizing they were more than just machines.

The blue beam of light coming out of Ratchet's wrist told me he started a scan of Arcee. His scanner beeped when it went over Arcee's hand. He paused and scanned her hand again and the same thing happened. This result made him stop the scan.

"What is this?" he asked, looking at some purple liquid that had dark smoke coming off it.

'So that's Dark Energon. It gives me the chills just by looking at it,' I thought. In the cartoon they tried to make Dark Energon seem mysterious and sinister, but here it felt... Evil. I couldn't truly explain it, but I didn't want to get any closer to it than I had to.

"I don't know. Cliff was covered in it... Leaking it," Arcee said. It was obvious she was still a little dizzy.

Ratchet scraped the Dark Energon off her hand with what to him was a small knife, but to a human it would be a medium-sized sword.

"Go take a decontamination bath now!" He said urgently.

Bumblebee helped Arcee up from her sitting position and walked with her over to a circular chamber more than large enough for any of the Autobots to step into.

"Optimus?" Jack asked, making the mech in question turn toward him. "I-I hate to bug... But... No bars." He said, holding up his phone toward Optimus.

"A security precaution, the silo walls prevent all unauthorized communication." Optimus said as he looked at Jack.

Looking down at his phone, while trying to dial a number, Jack said, "Well, not to be extreme, but if I don't call my mom like right now, the cops will probably start searching for me."

Optimus leaned down closer to us, "Have you broken a law?" he asked, looking directly at Jack.

"Um...curfew...it's after 10:00 P.M" Jack answered.

Raf's eyes widened. "If I don't get home soon I'll be grounded for a year."

"Hmm... Earth customs, I hadn't considered. But we are still responsible for your safety." Optimus said as he stood to his full height. "Bulkhead, accompany Miko home..."

Before Optimus finished giving Bulkhead his orders, Miko cut in. "Awesome! My host parents will freak!" She said excitedly, leaning toward Jack, which made him back up.

"And maintain surveillance, in vehicle form", Optimus finished his orders.

Bulkhead acknowledged, "Understood. Curb-side duty." This made Miko sigh with disappointment.

"Bumblebee," Optimus addressed his youngest soldier, "You will watch over Raf." I saw Raf give a faint smile. "Ratchet," Optimus was cut off by the mech he tried to speak to.

"I'm busy, don't bother me," Ratchet said, not turning from his work at one of the computers.

Arcee probably thought she picked the wrong time to finish the decontamination cycle after Optimus spoke.

"Arcee, you will accompany Jack." When Optimus said this Jack rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Ohhh... Still dizzy" Arcee said in an obvious attempt at getting out of guard duty.

"You're fine. I'm your physician, I would know," Ratchet said, still not turning from the computer.

Arcee dropped the act and sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

"So... Where am I supposed to go since I don't have a house anymore?" I asked, looking at Optimus.

"We have no area for you to 'Bunk' as you humans sometimes say, but if we have the time I will make sure to correct that issue." Optimus responded.

Jack, having heard my predicament spoke up. "I might be able to convince my mom to let him stay at my house as long as he doesn't mind sleeping on a couch."

Optimus looked at me as if to say 'Well?'

"It's a place to sleep, I don't mind at all. Thank you, Jack," I said gratefully.

"Bumblebee," Optimus said, stopping the Autobot from driving away in his alt form, "Take Zechariah to Jack's home as your destination is closer than Bulkhead's."

Bumblebee gave a beep of confirmation and opened the driver's side door for me as I had already climbed down from the walkway. As soon as I got inside, Bumblebee's alt mode he drove back through the same tunnel that we arrived through.

The drive as we followed Arcee to Jack's house went slower than to the Autobot base because Raf was tired and not saying much and I couldn't understand Bumblebee. It was roughly forty minutes after we left base before Arcee pulled into a driveway and Bumblebee stopped to let me out. Jack's home was simple, just a single-story house with a one-car garage. There was a mailbox close to the curb and not much grass to speak of on the front lawn. I stepped out on to the sidewalk and moved toward the garage. I heard Bumblebee continue on in the same direction as before.

As I got to the garage Arcee was in her true form. Just then a car pulled into the driveway, causing her to transform in record time. A tall woman with long hair tied in a ponytail got out of the car. Even if I didn't already know she was Jack's mother, the close resemblance would have told me. She had the same black hair, the same steel-blue eyes, and was similar in height. She was about five-ten, barely shorter than him. Jack ran out of the garage toward her before Arcee finished transforming.

"Hey mom... Hehe," he laughed nervously. "Don't... Don't freak, I can explain."

Jack's mother put her hands on her hips. "Can you?" She said, walking toward me, shaking her head slightly. "Jackson Darby, I've told you to tell me when you have friends over after curfew." Jack looked surprised at the speed Arcee transformed, but quickly pretended that my presence was the reason he had been nervous."What's your name?" Jack's mother asked me.

"Zechariah, but I prefer Zech, Miss Darby" I responded politely.

Jack's mom looked at Arcee's alt form and asked me, "Is that bike yours?"

"No, ma'am." I kept my polite tone.

"Do you need a ride home then?" Miss Darby asked, looking slightly confused by the motorcycle in her garage.

"I asked Jack if I could stay overnight. Both of my parents are out of town and my dad wanted me to stay with a friend." I hated lying, but she wouldn't believe me if I told the truth.

Jack's mom sighed, "Jack... You bought this motorcycle, didn't you?" Jack flinched, but before he could speak his mom cut in. "I need to speak with Jack about this, please excuse us," she looked at me when she said that last part. Jack followed his mom inside, leaving me in the garage with Arcee.

I broke the long silence that followed. "To answer your question Arcee... I know a lot about loss." I said, referring to when she shouted at me.

Arcee turned toward me in her alt form, "What?" Her tone was almost surprised.

"You asked me what I could possibly know about loss-" She cut me off before I could continue.

"I know what I asked you," her tone was now angry. "And what was so terrible that you think you know what I'm going through? You don't-" This time I cut her off.

"I saw my mother shot and killed by a mugger right in front me when I was six," I said coldly. That made Arcee pause. I continued, keeping my icy tone when I spoke. "Not only did a mugger kill her in front of me, the police never caught the man responsible." I started pacing, "My father became distant after that, working constantly to bury his grief. My brothers were virtually the only family I had after that. Even when they became Marines and were away for months or years at a time, I was closer to them than to my dad. I will never see them or anyone I ever knew again, so don't yell at me saying that I don't know about loss... Because I do." I was already regretting my rant. I lost my mother years ago but Arcee lost Cliffjumper twice in the past day.

"I'm sorry, Arcee, not only about Cliffjumper, but for my words as well," I apologized, lowering my head slightly.

"Maybe I'm the one who should apologize," she said. I looked at her curiously as she continued. "Since you said that you aren't from this reality I've only treated you with suspicion, thinking you were trying to stab us in the back somehow. But you gave us a warning of what we would find in the energon mine, a warning I didn't listen to. You offered an apology about Cliff's death and I yelled at you for it. I am sorry for my behavior toward you."

"It's fine Arcee, I hope I'm forgiven for my outburst as well," I was both surprised and relieved with her apology.

"You are, just-" Arcee paused. "It sounds like someone's coming," she said moving back to her original spot.

Ms. Darby opened the inside garage door. "You can come in now, I'll show you where everything is in case you need something," she said, oblivious that I was just talking to a member of a hyper-advanced alien race.

I followed Jack's mom through a narrow hallway leading to a medium-sized living room. She said something about the kitchen but I got distracted by what was on T.V. Jack was sitting on the couch watching to my joy one of my favorite shows, NCIS. I didn't know which episode was on but there was a dead Marine in a bathtub filled with cat litter so I'm guessing I missed something.

"Jack, fill me in here," I said, looking at the T.V with interest.

"You watch this, too?" Jack asked, raising his eyebrows.

I nodded, trying to figure out which episode this was as Jack explained.

Jack turned back to the T.V. "The dead Marine's cleaning lady came to... Well, clean. And she found him like that. Gibbs and McGee were called to the scene. Ziva and Dinozzo are in Paris protecting someone." He explained.

Now that I knew what was going on, I turned back to Jack's mom. "I'm sorry I got distracted. I believe you were saying something about the kitchen?" I asked, trying, but failing to sound as if I didn't care what show was on.

Ms. Darby smiled. "I was saying that as it's a weekend, you are free to use the kitchen as long as you clean it up after you're done." I nodded as she pointed down a hallway on the other side of the room. "And the bathroom is the first door on the right. Now the both of you get to bed after this is over, okay?"

"Of course, and thank you for letting me stay here," I thanked her.

Ms. Darby just said, "It's no problem," and walked down the far hall after she got confirmation from Jack that he wouldn't stay up too late either.

A few minutes after Ms. Darby went to bed, I sat down on the same couch as Jack with a plate of leftover pizza I found in the refrigerator, and glass of iced tea in my hand. "Sorry, I accidentally threw you under the bus when your mom asked if Arcee was my motorcycle," I said, taking a bite out of the pizza.

"It's no big deal, I would've had to come up with an excuse anyway," Jack said easily.

We didn't talk much for the rest of NCIS. I found out it was the same year and date as when I left my original reality, and that surprised me. Jack asked where I was from. He got a look of horror on his face when I said Upstate New York.

"How do you live in that cold?" he asked.

"How do you live in this heat?" I countered.

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Touche," he said, just as the ending credits started to roll. "Well, I'm going to bed." Jack said as he got up from the couch.

"See you tomorrow, Jack" I said, walking to the sink with my empty glass and plate. I rinsed the dishes I used, walked back to the couch, turned off the T.V and soon fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>For those who have read this chapter before, I have no excuse for why Zechariah didn't tell the Autobots who killed Cliffjumper. But now I have fixed it... I think...<strong>

**This chapter's credit song is "Rise Against - Prayer Of The Refugee" I think when I wrote this chapter I only picked this song because of the title, but it is a really good song and you should go listen to it.**


	5. This Wasn't On The Activities List

***Eye twitches* I don't... What... How... How the freaking heck did I EVER think this was good? I mean, really? I thought this chapter was great when I wrote it? Good gosh. I was absolutely horrible.**

**Sailor Shinzo - I already have something similar planned, but thank you for the suggestion.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro, not me. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>February 18, 2012 6:01 A.M<strong>

**Darby household Jasper, Nevada**

It seemed like I had just closed my eyes when the loud revving of a motorcycle engine made me open them again. I got up from the couch as Jack ran past me toward the garage. After checking the clock on the stove, I followed Jack to the garage.

"...Aww it's saturday" I heard Jack whine.

"Then you can watch cartoons back at base with Bumblebee," Arcee said, slightly annoyed.

Jack scoffed, "Pfft, cartoons. I'm sixteen." As he was talking with Arcee, Jack didn't hear me walk down the hall.

"To be fair," I started, making Jack jump. "I'm seventeen, and this was a cartoon I watched" I stated matter of factly.

"Leave a note for your mom, then we'll be on our way" Arcee said, clearly wanting to get moving.

Jack sighed, walking back to the kitchen while grumbling something under his breath.

Arcee said to me, "Bumblebee comm linked me earlier. He said he'll be here right about..." There was a single beep from a car horn outside "...Now," she finished.

Jack came back to the garage a moment later and hit the button to open the outside door.

"See both of you later," I said to Jack and Arcee, then crouched under the still opening garage door.

I walked across the street to where Bumblebee was parked. He opened his driver side door before I had finished crossing the street. He was apparently multi-tasking. The sounds of some racing game being played and Raf's protests were heard from the open door.

"Oh come, 'Bee, that's not fair!" I heard.

'If I didn't know any better I'd say Raf is losing,' I thought, getting in the driver's seat as 'Bee closed the door.

Raf was sitting in the passenger seat, playing what I think was 'Forza Motorsport 4' on about a fifteen-inch screen on Bumblebee's dashboard that he didn't have yesterday.

"Hey, Zech," Raf barely acknowledged me, eyes and attention focused on the screen.

Bumblebee was using a car that looked suspiciously like he did, and Raf was using a Bugatti Veyron. They had been neck and neck on the last lap of their race. Raf had the advantage in the straight-aways and Bumblebee had it in the corners. The reason Raf had cried out in frustation was Bee past him in a corner and briefly held a huge lead. However, the track was now on a long straight and Raf was quickly closing the distance.

Bumblebee's car was moving along at one hundred eighty-seven miles per hour when I looked at his side of the screen. Raf's Bugatti was speeding at more then two hundred and twenty as he past Bumblebee. Unfortunately for Raf, the last part of the race was a series of sharp turns and Bumblebee quickly took back the lead, crossing the finish line for first place.

"You know if you used the SSC Ultimate Aero, you likely would have won. Not only is it faster, but it has better handling," I suggested, looking at Raf.

"Maybe I'll use it next time. It was fun anyway" he said dismissively.

A moment later Arcee drove out of the Darby's garage. Bumblebee folded, yes, _folded_ the screen into his dashboard as we followed Arcee and Jack to the Autobot base.

Bulkhead, along with Miko, who was headbanging inside the bots interior, joined us in the drive to base. Nothing else noteworthy happened after that. I spaced out until the change in terrain at the bases entrance signaled the drive was almost over. I saw Ratchet and Optimus standing on the far side of the main room as we drove out of the tunnel. Raf and I climbed out of Bumblebee and he, along with Arcee and Bulkhead transformed into their true forms.

"You forgot your guitar," I said to Miko, who even at this early hour was just as energetic as yesterday.

As if on cue, there was a sound like hitting a hollow drum coming from Bulkhead. With some discomfort he moved a panel on his chest and pulled out Miko's guitar.

"Are you going to do that a lot? It's kind of creepy," Miko said, grabbing her guitar from Bulkhead.

"Maybe I will and maybe I won't," I said cryptically, which made Miko narrow her eyes at me.

Optimus addressed his soldiers after my brief exchange with Miko, "Autobots, prepare to..." he paused, looking down at Jack, Miko, Raf and I.

"Rollout?" Arcee asked, a questioning look on her faceplate.

Optimus shook his head. "No, you will remain here. Ratchet, come with me. Arcee, we'll be outside of communications range until further notice, so I'm putting you incharge."

"Dude, you're the biggest! _You_ should be the boss!" I heard Miko say to Bulkhead.

"Um... He never picks me," he replied, looking down at Miko.

Arcee stepped forward to protest her leader's orders. "Optimus, with all due respect, playing bodyguard is one thing but babysitting's another."

Jack sighed and walked away as his guardian continued.

"Besides, Ratchet hasn't been in the field since the war," she was practically begging to go on the misson with them.

"My pistons may be rusty, but my hearing is as sharp as ever" Ratchet said, looking slightly annoyed by Arcee's words.

"For the moment, it's only reconnaissance," Optimus said to Arcee, mostly ignoring Ratchet's words as he tried to to convince her to stay at base.

"Then why is there an edge in your voice?" Arcee's tone was suspicious.

"Arcee, much has changed in the last twenty-four hours, and we all need to adapt. Ratchet, bridge us out." Optimus avoided the question entirely, and he and Ratchet disappeared into the green light of the ground bridge.

"Okay, chief so ah... What's on the activites list?" Jack asked awkwardly, his eyes looking around the base.

Arcee rolled her optics and started walking away. "I'm going on patrol," she said, voice frustrated and slightly angry.

"But Optimus told us to stay here," Bulkhead said, looking like he was conflicted on whether he wanted to join Arcee on patrol or obey his leader.

Arcee turned to Bulkhead. "When you're in charge, then you can call the shots." She looked at Bumblebee. "'Bee, your with me."

Bumblebee looked from Raf then to Arcee. He beeped disappointedly, and walked toward Arcee hanging his head... No, his helm.

'This expanding knowledge thing is going to get annoying, isn't it?' I asked myself.

"Bulkhead, you'er in charge," Arcee said, just before she and Bee transformed and sped back through the entrance.

"So..." Bulkhead began, mimicking Jack's earlier tone. "What's on the activites list?"

The high piched sound of a guitar being plugged into a speaker was his first response. "How 'bout some band practice!" Miko said, holding her guitar with the strap on her left shoulder.

"But...we aren't a band," Raf stated, looking confused.

"This is true," I said off-handedly.

Miko ignored my comment "Oh come Raf, why so anti-social? do you play anything?" She asked.

"Um...keyboard?" Raf said holding up his computer uncertainty. Miko nodded approvingly and looked at Jack "And you?"

"I sometimes mess around on the harmonica," Jack said, rubbing the back of his neck, I noticed that was a nervous habit of his.

"Do I look like I do country, _Jack_? Just...cover yourself in fake blood and jump around screaming," Miko said, as if disgusted by Jack's taste in music. She ignored me and looked at the only Autobot on the base "Bulkhead you-" The alarm for the proximity sensor cut her off.

Bulkhead looked at the main computer in panic "It's Fowler! Quick, get behind me!" He said, urgently.

I tried to get Miko to leave her guitar behind so Fowler wouldn't see us, but she was being too stubborn and I didn't have time to argue with her.

The elevator doors opened just as we got behind Bulkheads legs Jack, Miko and Raf behind his left one and I was behind his right.

"Prime!" I heard Agent Fowler yell, unlike yesterday, however, I couldn't see him.

"Oh, hello, Agent Fowler. Ah... He's not here... Um nobody's here... Except me, of course." Bulkhead was trying to sound casual, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it.

"Well where did he go? Wait, let me guess, he's out pancaking a mini-mall!"

Both Raf and Miko were trying to look and see where Fowler was, despite both my warnings as well as Jack's.

Apparently Fowler was now moving along the catwalk, since Bulkhead moved his feet slightly to better hide the four humans behind him. The cord on Miko's guitar caught on Bulkhead's left foot, and since she hadn't put her guitar down, she was almost thrown from hiding. Raf and Jack held onto her arms, keeping her behind Bulkhead, but the damage had already been done.

Bulkhead's slight movment had pulled out the cord for Miko's guitar from the speaker, and Fowler stopped mid-rant as this happened. "Since when are you bots electric?" I heard Fowler ask sarcastitally.

Bulkhead stiffened, as the rest of us walked out from behind his feet. "Hey... How you doing?" Jack said, as if he and the government agent were old friends.

"You've been in contact with civilians!" Fowler brought his hand down on the railing in frustration as he continued.

"Team Prime has_ really_ gone and done it this time. Wait, don't tell me, you'er running a day-care center!" He said, anger clear in his voice.

"Um... We're interns!" Jack said, very obviously trying to come up with an excuse for our presence at the base.

"Student interns!" Raf added his two cents before Jack continued.

"Earning extra credit in, um... Autoshop," he and Miko said that last part at the same time.

I knew Fowler would try to take us into custody no matter what we said, so I remained silent.

Fowler rubbed the bridge of his nose before speaking, "Okay, let's move. I'm taking all four of you into federal custody for your own protecti-" He was cut off as Bulkhead slammed his foot directly in front of him, making him back up.

"We're protecting them," Bulkhead said in a tone that held no room for argument.

The look of slight fear the special agent had on his face disappeared as he spoke, "Is that so?" He asked, voice holding more anger then when he arrived. "Well, maybe you can explain that to my superiors at the Pentagon!" He yelled the last part, then walked to a phone attached to the ground floor railing and began dialing a number.

"Don't use that phone, it's..." Bulkhead leaned toward the phone and crushed it with a finger. "Out of order."

I couldn't help but give a snort of laughter as I thought of the CSI: Miami theme song when Bulkhead said that.

Fowler gave me a sharp glare for that, and started walking up the stairs to the elevator. He didn't say anything until the elevator doors were closing, "This isn't over." Then he was gone.

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes after Fowler left, a new alarm sounded throughout the base. Bulkhead walked to the main computer and muted the alarm. This was much to Raf's relief as, he had been covering his ears since the alarm started.<p>

"It's an S.O.S... From Fowler!" After Bulkhead said this, he looked down at the control panel, trying unsuccessfully to figure out how to trace the S.O.S. The signal diappeared before he even touched the screen.

"Well? Did you trace it?" Raf asked hopefully, walking toward the mech.

Bulkhead shook his helm. "No, the location scan was incomplete," he said. "Oh, well." He shrugged his shoulders and starting to walk away.

"I know you don't like him, Bulkhead. I don't either. But the Decepticons have captured Agent Fowler, and he knows our location," I said urgently.

Raf gulped and Jack's eyes widened as he said, "And Arcee said yesterday, that the Decepticons will torture us to find out everything we know. Fowler knows a lot more then we do." His voice held some of the fear he likely felt.

"We all saw how quickly he backed down from you, the 'Cons will make him squeal faster then I can play guitar," Miko said, putting her hands on her hips.

Bulkhead sighed. "We lost the transmisson, and the 'Cons have the same tech that we do. Fowler could be anywhere by now."

Raf sat on the floor with his laptop in hand. "Maybe I can narrow it down. About five years ago, the government started microchipping their agents, like owners do with pets," he said, typing on his computer.

Jack, Miko and Bulkhead looked at him doubtfully. I, however, knew where he was going with this.

Raf continued, "If I can hack into the feds' mainframe, I might be able to pinpoint Fowler's location." He didn't look up from his laptop as he said this.

Miko got a confused look on her face. "How can you know how to hack? You're like two years old!" She looked at him incredulously.

Raf looked at Miko. "I'm twelve... And a _quarter,_" he said, beginning with an angry voice but finished with a slight smile, while also making it a point to put emphasis on the 'Quarter.'

It took Raf about ten minutes to break into the mainframe without getting caught by the govenment's counter hackers, and another five to access Fowler's tracking chip.

"Latitude 39.5, longitude 116.9," Raf said, after finally getting the location of the government agent.

Bulkhead entered the coordinates into the computer and pulled the lever to activate the ground bridge. The bridge wasn't even fully activated before he walked toward it. He stopped and looked back at the four of us. I assumed he was about to put Jack in charge.

"Ah... Zech you're in charge!" he said, thoroughly shocking me. Before I could protest, he ran into the ground bridge.

"Well... That's different," I stated, wondering why Bulkhead had put me in charge.

"What's different?" Jack asked, with his arms crossed.

I looked to my left where Jack was standing, alongside Raf. "He was supposed to put you in charge after he left," I answered Jack's question with a confused tone.

"Maybe he put you in charge because your the oldest?" Raf suggested, simply.

"That's the most likely reason, but..." my eyes widened as I remembered Miko was going to follow Bulkhead. "Oh wait, Miko don't..." I looked to the ground bridge just in time to her feet disapper from sight. "Leave..." I finished, rubbing the bridge of my nose with a sigh.

A full minute later, I was debating if I should try and bring Miko back to base. I knew that's what Jack and Raf did in the cartoon, but I didn't know what happened to them after they went through the ground bridge. The series went on for another twenty plus episodes, so they likely were fine. However, my presence here has already changed things, and potentially could create instances that wouldn't have happened if I was still home. I knew that if I went after Miko there was a very real possibility I wouldn't return. Miko. however, didn't know what she was getting into. I had made up my mind.

"Raf" I said, looking at the young computer genius. "I'm going after Miko. The ground bridge coordinates should still be locked on Fowler's location. Get on the catwalk and activate the bridge."

He looked at me for a second before nodding and climbed the ladder up to human-sized computers. I looked at Jack. "Now you're in charge," I said with some humor.

The ground bridge activated a second later and I started the long walk to the end of it.

"Hey, wait up!" I heard Raf say, as he ran toward me with Jack following close behind him.

The three of us continued walking toward the end of the ground bridge as I said, "As soon as we get on the other side run, don't walk, to the nearest cover you can find."

They looked at me with slightly worried expressions, but nodded nonetheless. A few seconds later there were was no one left at the Autobot base.

* * *

><p>The trip through the ground bridge was similar to when I traveled between realities. However, the feeling of weightlessness was less prominent.<p>

"Are your bones vibrating as well?" Raf asked Jack and me, as he rubbed his ribcage.

I dimly acknowledged the question, and looked up at the massive jet black warship in front of us. It was at least two kilometers in length, and had several large turrets on its hull. I could see a number of dark forms on top of it, pointing what looked like weapons down at us.

"Less talking and more finding cover!" I yelled, pulling both of them with me as I ran toward a boulder I could see that Miko and Bulkhead were hiding behind.

Not two seconds later, a shot from a Decepticon blaster hit the ground in the same spot we had just been standing. A powerful shockwave knocked all of us on the ground and made my ears ring as dozens of less powerful shots hit the ground all around us. I got up as fast as I could. Jack was covering Raf with his body, trying to keep him as safe as possible. It was at that moment I knew I should have told them to stay back at base, and that I had been an idiot for leaving in the first place.

My poor judgment would have cost us our lives, had Bulkhead not arrived when he did. He drove in front of us blocking a few shots and opening his door.

"Get in!" He yelled.

Raf and Jack got in through the passenger door while I got in the back. Miko was sitting on the other side of the back seat.

"You know you should have stayed at base." I couldn't keep some of my anger at her out of my voice.

"And miss Bulkhead giving a beat down? I don't think so!" She scoffed, as if she thought this was all a game.

Before I could give a proper response, Bulkhead stopped and said, "Okay, everyone out. And this time, _please_ stay here," he said, directing his words to all of us, but seemed like mostly to Miko.

Jack, Raf and I stepped out of Bulkhead's alt form. Miko didn't move, but before I tell this to Bulkhead, he drove off with her still inside. Raf, Jack and I carefully looked around the boulder, watching as Bulkhead dodged enemy fire while racing toward the Decepticon warship.

"Miko's still with him, isn't she?" Jack asked in an exasperated voice.

"Yup," I said with a loud sigh.

We could see Bulkhead as he hit a small hill, getting enough air to climb the side of the canyon the warship was hidden inside. He jumped off the canyon wall toward the ship. A second later we saw a Decepticon fall off the warship, then we momentarily lost sight of Bulkhead. The last we saw of him was after some kind of metal dish fell off the warship. It looked like Miko was in his hands, but it was hard tell from this distance. He started taking fire and looked around. A moment later he ran toward something we couldn't see and disappeared.

Raf looked at Jack and I. "Think they forgot about us?" he asked, voice slightly hopeful.

The sound of a blaster powering up behind us was his response. We looked back to where the sound came from. Two Decepticon foot soldiers were standing directly in front of us, one had a blaster pointed at us and the other one was leaning down to pick up Jack and I. They were slightly shorter then Bulkhead, but much thinner and painted an ugly black and purple with a single red optic visor and no mouth.

"Maybe we should have gone with Bulkhead," I said nervously.

The second Decepticon picked up Jack and me as the first one picked Raf up. They walked to a Cybertronian-sized elevator with us in hand, and soon we were inside the ship.

Ten minutes later, they were taking us down a hallway, with the 'Con with Raf in front, and the one with Jack and I following close behind.

"Let's take them to the brig. Commander Starscream is keeping the other human there," the one holding Raf said in a voice reminding me of a generic enemy in a video game.

I heard a motorcycle engine along with the deep rumble a muscle car off to our left. The next thing I knew, Jack, Raf and I were flying through the air. We reached the apex of our flight and started falling.

Just before we hit the ground, Arcee caught Jack and I. At the same time Raf was caught by Bumblebee.

"Thanks for the rescue," I said, as Jack and I got off Arcee's hands. I heard Bumblebee set Raf down while beeping a few times at him.

"You'er welcome. I appreciate you three clearing the front door for us, but storming the Nemesis was _not_ on the activites list," Arcee said in a firm voice.

"Tell me about it," I head Jack say under his breath.

Arcee suddenly looked at a four-way junction not far from the one we were standing in, looking at the corner suspiciously.

Without a word between them, she and Bumblee slowly put their backs against the wall. With a movement my eyes couldn't follow, they turned the corner with their weapons deployed. Almost immediately Arcee called out, "Friendly!" and lowered her blaster.

Bulkhead, with Miko in hand, walked around the corner.

"Brought the humans with you?" Arcee asked him after they started walking back to us.

"_You_ try getting them to stay behind!" Bulkhead said in an exasperated tone.

Arcee ingored him and said, "We need to find Fowler... And get these kids out of here."

Jack, Raf and I looked at each other. "He's in the brig," the three of us spoke at the same time.

* * *

><p>Roughly five-minutes, later the 'Bots stopped in front of a closed door.<p>

"Stay here" Arcee said, looking at Jack, Miko, Raf and I.

Bulkhead knocked on the door loudly until it was opened from the other side with a hiss. The moment the door opened, Arcee opened fire and lept through the doorway, Bumblebee and Bulkhead following close behind her. A few seconds later I heard Arcee call out, "Clear," and the four of us walked through the door. The Autobots were already walking toward us when we entered the newly cleared room.

"Wait for us in this room," Arcee instructed, still walking toward the door.

_Bumblebee_ beeped in what could only have been a protest.

Arcee looked back at him. "They're slowing us down and also easy targets. They'll be alright in here as long as they _stay put_," she directed that last part at us, and ran out the door.

Bulkhead and Bumblebee redeployed their weapons and followed her out of the room. As soon as they left, the door closed.

"Well... That was intense," Miko said, as if the four of us just got off rollercoaster.

"_Was?_ Miko, it's your fault we're stuck in this_ intensity_!" Jack half-whispered, half-yelled, pointing a finger at Miko accusingly.

"Did I ask you to follow me?" Miko said, looking like he couldn't believe she did anything wrong.

"You didn't ask to leave, or think before you acted," I pointed out, trying to keep an even voice. I was quickly ignored.

"You're the one who wanted us to be a band, Miko. Doesn't that mean playing together?" Jack said, anger now more present in his voice.

"Maybe I wanted to go solo!" Miko's voice as well had more anger, although it honestly wasn't very intimidating. After all, she _was_ at least a foot shorter than Jack or I.

Jack crossed his arms. "_Maybe_ we have some regard for your safety!"

Miko rolled her eyes at him. "Oh I'm sorry, is your name Optimus? You can leave my protection to Bulkhead, thank you very much!"

Both of them were on the verge of yelling.

Raf had enough. "Stop it, both of you!" He yelled and ran off to sit in front of a ledge on the left side of the room.

"Nice job," I whispered sardonically to Miko and Jack as the three of us ran to catch up with Raf.

"Hey... Hey, Raf it's... It's okay" Jack said softly, sitting down on the ledge to Raf's left. He had his arms crossed over his knees and was looking at the floor. Miko sat down on Raf's right side.

"Yeah, we're going to be fine, Raf," she said, likely trying to get a response out of him.

Jack spoke again, "Look, our 'Bots will come back for us... Right, Miko?"

She nodded. "Yeah, they'll be back here before you know it."

"How do you know?" Raf said quitely, voice filled with fear and sadness.

I spoke up from behind them, "Because, Raf, they came for us when we were being held by the Decepticons, and they will come for us after they find Fowler."

Raf glanced up at me, looking slightly less sad, though it was hardly noticeable.

"Hey, Raf... What do you make of that?" Jack asked, looking at some symbols on a computer screen in front of us, which I hadn't bothered to look at.

Raf got a confused look on his face and jumped off the ledge, walking toward the Cybertronian computer.

Jack, Miko and I walked up behind him.

He studied the symbols for a long time and finally said, "It's important... ery important."

I recognized one symbol on the computer. "I think I might know what this is," I said, looking at the screen.

"Then what is it?" Jack asked, looking at me confused.

"At the end of the first episode in the cartoon, the Decepticons used a space bridge to bring Megatron back to earth. The symbol on the far right was highlighted on the screen when they activated it. That symbol might have something to do with the same space bridge," I answered, hand on my chin in thought.

Footsteps off to the left made us turn and gasp. A Decepticon was just entering the room. Jack, Raf and Miko ran for an alcove under the computer. I was too far away, and my only option was hiding under what I thought was a ledge, but turned out to be Cybertronian-sized stairs. I heard the Decepticon stop walking for some reason, but I didn't care at the moment. Raf had forgotten his backpack where we were standing before the 'Con came into the room. That in itself wasn't what had my attention. What_ did_ was that Raf had left his hiding spot to retrieve his backpack.

"Raf. Get. Back!" I whispered to him, but it was too late.

I heard the sound of a weapon powering up, and Raf got a look of terror on his face. I felt usless at that moment. There was nothing I could do to help then. A moent later, I heard, and felt, the Decepticon walk down the stairs I was hiding behind, and a giant, metal foot came into view. I could see he had suffered damage to his left foot and was missing a piece of armor. There were a number of small wires and cables exposed where normally there was armor. They were small enough that I thought I could rip some of them out by hand, I made a hasty decision... One that would likely hurt.

Before the Decepticon got his other foot off the stairs, I ran forward and grabbed on to the mess of cables and wires. Almost immediately the 'Con tried shaking me off, but I held on for all I was worth.

"Get off me, fleshy!" The 'Con yelled, hopping on one foot.

'Hmmm... This looks important,' I thought, just before pulling on a cable.

Bright blue liquid, what I believed was energon, flowed from the now useless cable, and the 'Con screamed, "You slagging glitch! I'll make you pay for that!" But his movements lessened.

'Houston, we have a weakness!' I pulled another cable from it's place and was rewarded with more screaming from the 'Con.

"You piece of sh-" A handful of wires were pulled out, making the 'Con scream again.

I had just pulled out another cable when the 'Con shook his leg again, making me shift slightly and make my left arm from my elbow to my finger tips go through the energon leaking from the 'Con's leg, covering nearly my entire limb in the blue liquid. It felt like I just dipped my arm in fire.

"Son of a bitch that hurts!" I yelled, almost almost losing my grip on the 'Con's leg. But I managed to hang on, albeit barely.

"Miko! take a picture!" I heard Jack yell.

I didn't hear Miko's reply, but I saw a flash and the Decepticon stopped moving, looking at Miko curiously.

"I don't think he meant of this Miko!" I yelled, and pulled out another handful of wires.

Again, I didn't hear Miko's reply, but I heard Jack yell at me, "Zech we've got to go!"

I looked at the largest cable on the 'Con's leg and said loud enough for him to hear me, "Here's something to remember me by!" I pulled the cable and jumped off his leg.

The Decepticon fell on the floor after I pulled the cable, and by the time he started after me, I was already out the door.

Jack, Raf and Miko all looked at me when I slid around the corner. "Run! He's pissed off now!"

They turned and ran up the hallway, with me, and a very angry Decepticon, not far behind.

I don't know where Bulkhead came from. One second there was an empty hallway, and the next he was transforming over our heads. He slammed into the Decepticon, who was limping noticeably. Before I saw what happened next Bumblebee and Arcee pulled up along side us.

"I told you to stay _put_!" Arcee yelled, likely in frustration.

Bumblebee opened his passenger door and moved his front seat forward to let Miko, Raf and I in. Not in the mood to sit in front, and still dealing with an arm that felt like fire, I climbed on the back. Agent Fowler was half laying, half sitting in the back with me.

"Hello, Agent Fowler" I said as nicely as I could.

His response surprised me, "I like pie... Can we stop for pie, daddy?" He sounded like an overgrown toddler, not at all the agent he had been at base.

I blinked once. Twice. Three times. "Well... At least you found him," I finally said to Bumblebee, trying as hard as I could not to laugh at Fowler's ridiculous statement.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, all of us, including Ratchet and Optimus, were back at base. Fowler was on an old gurney Ratchet had in storage for some reason. He had inserted an IV into the government agent's arm, before Optimus repaired his own damaged arm, which he had severely damaged while out in the field with Optimus. Optimus and Ratchet walked over to where we humans were standing next to Fowler's gurney and Miko asked.<p>

"What happened to you guys, anyway?" Miko asked, and for once her voice held no humor.

"We engaged an army of undead Cybertronian warriors," Ratchet said, with little emotion.

"Zombies? You fought _zombies_ and I missed it!" Miko said, now with her usual attitude, making me roll my eyes.

"Bulkhead, you exercised extremely poor judgment in allowing the humans to accompany you," Optimus said, somehow managing to mildly scold him without changing his tone.

Bulkhead looked at Miko and then to Optimus. "It won't happen again Optimus, I promise," he seemed to be covering for Miko.

Not understanding, Miko stepped forward to protest. "But it wasn't Bulkhead's fault. Check it out. We did some recon!" She flipped open her phone toward Optimus, showing what I assumed was the picture of the computer screen.

The Prime leaned down to get a closer look. "Hmm... Ratchet, have a look. It may be of importance to Megatron," he said, standing back to his full height.

Ratchet leaned down to look at Miko's phone like Optimus did. "I... I don't, ah... I don't understand," he said after a moment, looking at Miko confused.

Miko looked at her phone's screen. "Oops, thats the 'Con that tried to blow Raf away. Well, that's what he looked like _before_ Zech pulled a bunch of cables and wires out of his foot and Bulkhead rearranged his grill!" she said, excitedly.

The Autobots looked at me in mild surprise when Miko said I pulled cables and wires out of the 'Cons foot.

I shrugged in response.

"Miko! Raf was almost killed! This isn't a game. When are you going to get that through your thick skull!" Jack yelled, very obviously having enough of Miko's attitude.

"Not _exactly_ the words I was going to use, but he is right, Miko" I said in a neutral tone, not wanting to get in an argument.

The hyperactive girl rolled her eyes at Jack and me. "Um, we were all almost killed, Jack. You, me, Raf, Zech, even the 'Bots!" She said, in typical Miko fashion.

Jack looked at her for a moment and said, "Well, if this was an average day with the Autobots, then I don't want to be apart of it... Not anymore" he said, shaking his head.

Miko looked at him with an unreadable expression before Optimus spoke, "Jack? Putting you in harms way was never our intent. However, it is no logner the safety of you this is at risk but the safety of all mankind. We will respect your decision if you wish to lea-" Optimus was cut off by the ground bridge activating.

"No point in long goodbyes. Here's the door," Ratchet said in an uncaring tone, gesturing toward the green portal.

Jack looked at Raf. "Come on, let's go home." His voice was quiet.

Raf looked at Bumblebee, who was hanging his helm. "I'll be okay Jack... See you at school" he said with a sad tone, taking a step away from Jack.

Jack nodded in understanding and started walking toward the ground bridge.

I spoke up before he got to the stairs, "Jack... Believe me when I say I know what it's like to have your entire would changed." I walked next to him and continued, "You will likely never have a normal life again, your very brief time here will stay with you for the rest of your life." I gestured to the room we were standing in.

"What's your point?" Jack asked, a slightly irritated tone in his voice.

"My point is, Jack, if you walk through that ground bridge you're always going to wonder what it would have been like to be friends another race of beings." With that I walked back to Raf and Miko.

Jack stood in the same spot for a good minute looking at the ground bridge. Finally, he turned to Ratchet. "You can shut it down," he said simply, and went to stand next to Miko.

Ratchet deactivated the ground bridge and grumbled something about, 'A waste of energon.'

Optimus had Arcee, Bulkhead and Bumblebee take Jack, Miko and Raf home after Jack decided to stay. But he told me to stay. Apparently, they had set up a place for me to sleep.

"Zechariah," Optimus said, after they had left and Ratchet went to his computer, "You haven't informed us you were injured." He pointed a finger at my left arm, where the energon left a noticeable burn.

"I didn't think it needed treatment. While I was on the Decepticon's leg, I pulled out a cable that spilled energon. Some of it got on me. It stopped hurting awhile ago, after it evaporated," I said, not thinking much of it. It would still hurt if something was wrong, right?

Optimus' optics widened a tiny fraction of an inch, and Ratchet stopped typing on his computer and slowly turned to me. "Energon doesn't evaporate... It crystallizes, or is absorbed," he said, giving me an unreadable look.

The implication of his statement sank in. "Oh... Well, then this is really bad, isn't it?"

Before Ratchet or Optimus could answer, searing pain went throughout my body. My entire body was throbbing like a severe headache would. It was more painful than anything I'd ever experienced. I was faintly aware of being carried somewhere, then feeling a small prick in my neck. Ratchet must have given me some kind of sedative because my world was rapidly going dark.

'How many times am I going to go unconscious?' I thought, with amusement just before the sedative kicked in.

* * *

><p><strong>*Rubs nose* This is painful for me to read. So bad. So... Flat. Ick. But, it also reminds me where I came from as a writer, so there's that, at least.<strong>

**Thank you to anyone who managed to force themselves to read through this. I pity you. Please listen when I say I actually have DEPTH to my characters later on. This is just... The Dark Days, AKA the stuff I wrote like a month or two after I first started writing. It will get better... Just need to wade through 10-11 chapters of really, really amateur stuff. Sorry in advance.**


	6. A Surprised Awakening

***Gets back after cleaning up chapter* My EYES! They burn! *Rubs eyes* Oh, wow... I am _so_ glad I've learned from my mistakes, this thing was painful to read before Crystal Prime and I cleaned it up. Now it is at least readable, I am a little ashamed that I once wrote my chapters with such terrible grammar, but it is now readable.  
><strong>

****Angel of all Decepticons - Thank you.****

****Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.  
><strong>**

* * *

><p><strong>February 19, 2012 4:07 A.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

'It doesn't make any sense!' Ratchet thought frustratedly as he looked at the latest scan results of their oldest human charge. He had sedated Zechariah six breems ago, while Optimus was carrying the boy to his med-bay.

The Nanites inside the boy had multiplied themselves twenty-fold since last orbital-cycle, massively accelerating his transformation. Ratchet had tried every type of medicine compatible with the human body to slow the progress of the Nanites... Nothing worked.

A few things he tried accelerated his transformation even further. The only thing he now knew for sure was that the anomalies inside the boy were the beginnings of Cybertronian organs. As far as he could tell, the human's body absorbed the energon he came in contact with, allowing the nanites to easily multiply.

With one last look at the computer, and a glance at the human on the medical berth, Ratchet walked out of his med-bay and into the ops center.

Optimus was standing in front of the main computer, looking at a copy of Ratchet's scan of Zechariah. "What is his condition, Ratchet?" Optimus addressed his medic, not turning from the computer.

"I've done everything I can... Nothing will slow his transformation. He'll be one of us before our other human charges online for the cycle," Ratchet's tone was angry. His anger was not directed at Zechariah for becoming one of them, but at himself for not being able to stop it or slow it down.

"His femme creator is one of the Original Thirteen. If they want Zechariah to become one of us, then no one will hinder them." Optimus said, attempting to calm his medic.

Ratchet sighed. "I know, Optimus, but I don't like failing to help one of my patients." He said in a slightly depressed tone.

The ground shook slightly as the two of them were talking a breem later, and a faint shout came from inside the med-bay. With curious looks on their faceplates, both Ratchet and Optimus walked toward the med-bay doors.

"Primus..." Ratchet said quietly after the doors opened. Still getting back on to his pedes, was a very confused, and very large Cybertronian mech.

* * *

><p>I woke up and looked up at the ceiling of Ratchet's med-bay. I started sitting up as I would normally, and stopped immediately at the faint sound of moving gears. Without moving, I looked around the med-bay for signs of an Autobot and saw none. Since I was the only one who could have made the sounds, I finished sitting up and looked down.<p>

The sight of my own body made me jump so much that I fell and hit the floor with a resounding boom.

My back hit the floor first and at that moment I found out in a painful way that I had wings. "OW!" I yelled, getting up off my wings and standing to my feet... No to my pedes.

'Not now, expanding knowledge!' I scolded my CPU... Wait...

'Damn it! Well played knowledge, well played.'

The med-bay doors opened, admitting Optimus and Ratchet as I stood to my pedes.

"Primus," I heard Ratchet say when they saw me standing in the med-bay.

I looked down again at body... Chassis... 'I give up.'

My armor was jet-black and very thick. I doubt much would be able to damage it. And I had what looked like wheels on my pedes, which was unusual since I had wings as well.

Looking back up at the two Autobots I said dryly, "It seems as if I missed something important."

* * *

><p>Ratchet and Optimus spent the next breem explaining quite a few things to me.<p>

In that breem, I found that I was now standing at forty-five feet tall, six feet shorter then Optimus' massive fifty-one. On either side of my helm was a large silver mark that identified me as a direct descendant of Solus Prime. My optics were also different in color then the other Autobots. Instead of being bright sky blue, my optics were a royal cobalt blue, the same color as when I was a human.

I also was what they called a 'Triple-Changer,' which was a rare type of Cybertronian that had two alt forms. Apparently, their role in battle was the use of heavy ordinance like Missile Launchers and Rotary Cannons. I'm sure my optics lit up when they said that.

Because of my expanding knowledge I knew the basics of Cybertronian physiology. Ratchet, however, insisted I know about everything, including... Well the Cybertronian version of the Birds and the Bees. I have never been more disturbed in my life. The act of 'Interfacing' as it was called, was almost exactly like human intercourse but also involved the sparks of the mech and femme. The only part that was disturbing was how bluntly Ratchet had described it.

Enlightening discussions aside, they only had theories as to how I changed so fast. Ratchet said since I was now fully Cybertronian we would likely never know. He also said I would be able to understand Bumblebee since my CPU would automatically decipher his method of speaking.

Since the med-bay wasn't large enough to give me a thorough medical scan, Ratchet had the three of us move. Bumblebee arrived with Jack, Miko and Raf at same time we got to the ops center.

"Who's the new guy?!" Miko asked excitedly as she, along with Jack and Raf, looked up at me.

"Technically I'm not new, Miko." I said with a smile, then laughed at looks on their faces when they recognized my voice.

"You... What... How and when did this happen!?" Jack finally asked, gesturing at me.

"We have been trying to answer that ourselves, Jack," Optimus said with a sigh.

"We won't find answers standing around talking" Ratchet said, with his usual annoyed tone. Ratchet scanned me and started going over the data. "Let's see... Spark beat's normal... CPU activity, also normal..." And that was how we spent the next half breem, listening to Ratchet list things off he read on his scanner.

"Your armor is in a double layer, which is uncommon even among Triple-Changers." Ratchet's optic ridges rose as he said this. "Now... Weapon... Systems..." He trailed off and looked at his scanner with widened optics.

After he was silent for a while, Bulkhead leaned forward. "Hey! You there, Ratch'?" He asked, and waved a servo in front of Ratchet's faceplate.

When Bulkhead did this, Ratchet shook his helm and started over. "Weapon systems... Very extensive." His optics were still widened as he spoke. Ratchet walked away from the rest of us and said. "Follow me, we still have some more tests."

I sighed in frustration at how long this was taking and followed after Optimus and him.

Arcee, Bumblebee and Bulkhead with Jack, Raf and Miko on their shoulder-joints walked along side me.

"I think you'll like where Ratchet is leading us," Arcee said with a bit of excitement in her optics.

Confused, I looked at my right to where she was standing. "Why is that?" I asked with a curious tone in my voice.

Bumblebee spoke to my left. _"You'll see,"_ he said simply as all of us walked into a bot sized elevator.

After a long ride downward, the elevator stopped at the largest room I had ever seen.

The ceiling was at the least four times my height, and was probably a good square kilometer in area. Off to the left of the elevator was a workstation where Ratchet was already standing. Beyond that was what looked like a boxing ring. On the right was a shooting range, and what I guessed was the beginning of an obstacle course directly in front of us.

"You're right, Arcee," she looked at me as I said "I do like this place." I was already planning to spend a lot of time here.

"Zechariah, I brought you here to start testing your weapon systems. Go to the range first," Ratchet said gruffly, clearly wanting to get started.

Nodding, I turned and walked over to the shooting range.

The shooting range was massive, well over a kilometer long and several hundred meters wide. The range itself was filled with targets made up of old human tanks, cars, trucks, and smaller targets hung up on the back wall for testing marksmanship. There was even a medium sized building in the middle. And instead of being made out of metal, the floor of the shooting range was covered with white sand, likely because sand was easier to maintain and replenish than a metal floor would be.

"Pick a target and use the weapons built into your servos," Ratchet said as I looked down range.

Earlier, my CPU imprinted the knowledge of how to deploy and use weapons, and how to transform into an alt mode. It was surprisingly simple. With a mental command I could deploy my left or right servos with a melee weapon, a blaster weapon or one of each. I also had weapon systems on my shoulder-joints and backplates that I would use later.

I couldn't use my melee weapons at this time so with a mental command I deployed my blaster weapons on both of my servos. The weapon on my right servo I was familiar with. It was a Scatter-Blaster similar to the one from Transformers: War for Cybertron. Knowing how that would shoot I looked at the weapon on my left servo. All I could tell was that it had two barrels and was likely fully-automatic.

After this I looked at the range and took aim at a pair of old cars about two hundred meters away. The weapon on my left servo was very accurately firing, with little spread on each shot. I calculated it was shooting at six-hundred rounds per minute. Instead of exploding on contact, the little bullet-shaped red balls of energy burned clean through the car and into the ground.

The Scatter-Blaster on my right servo was a shotgun so this was about its range limit. I could tell it would do massive damage at close range considering I only grazed the car and it took the roof off the car.

Ratchet typed something into his workstation and said, "Good, now use the ones in your shoulder-joints."

I deployed the weapon systems on my shoulder-joints. They were fairly large missile launchers. I counted and found each had sixteen missiles, giving me a total of thirty-two. Of course they worked as they should have, blowing up the six cars and two tanks I targeted. Everyone present looked impressed by the destruction.

"Alright, lastly, deploy the weapons on your backplates," Ratchet said. Even he sounded slightly impressed.

With a mental command I deployed my final weapon systems. Servo grips appeared on either side of my helm. I reached over my backplates and detached two very different, but incredibly powerful weapons. In my right servo was a six-barreled version of an Ion Displacer that easily doubled my servos length. I looked at it with wide but eager optics.

In my left servo was a Nucleon Shock Cannon that was even larger than the Ion Displacer. Deciding to use the shock cannon last, I lifted my right servo and fired a long burst at well over a dozen cars and tanks. The Ion Displacer sounded like a mechanical saw as it fired over six thousand rounds per minute. It turned the cars into little more than piles of scrap and shredded the tank armor apart as if it wasn't even there.

"I just found my favorite gun," I said with glee, returning the rotary cannon to my backplates. The mix of humans and Cybertronians watching me looked far more impressed with the Ion Displacer than any other weapon I had used so far. I took aim at the building with the Nucleon Shock Cannon and fired. With a loud thump that reminded me of a grenade launcher, the shot sailed into a window and exploded with similar force as one of my missiles. Feeling as if the cannon hadn't been at full power, I again took aim at the building.

This time I let the cannon charge, and it made an increasingly loud whine that sounded like something from the Bay films. After letting it charge for three micro-klicks, I fired at the building. The recoil was far greater than before. And since I wasn't ready for it, I was knocked back a step. However, the building didn't get off as easy. Instead of destroying a wall as I expected, the entire building vanished in a deafening explosion. Arcee, Bumblebee and Bulkhead used their frames to give cover for the humans in case any debris fell toward them. It was just a precaution as it looked as if the Nucleon almost completely incinerated the building. What used to be the building was now just blackened crater with smoke rising out of it. And I could have sworn the crater was sizzling, but I didn't know for certain. No one spoke as I put the massive weapon on my backplates. They just looked at spot the building used to be.

"Well... I don't think I should use that one very often," I said evenly after nearly a full klick of silence.

"You... You blew it up," Raf said quietly, clearly still in shock from the explosion.

Ratchet sighed heavily. "That will conclude your ranged weapon test. Get to the ring and I'll set up-" a beeping from his console cut him off. Ratchet's faceplate turned grim as he looked at the console. "Optimus! I've pinpointed the location of the Deception space bridge." He turned and walked into the elevator.

"So the schematics really were for a space bridge," I said with a sigh, as the rest of us followed him into the elevator.

Ratchet looked at me, annoyance and anger clear on his faceplate. "What? You knew and you didn't tell us?!"

I winced at Ratchet's tone and said carefully. "Yes, the Cons used it at the end of the first episode to bring Megatron to earth, but I didn't know the significance of it until we found the schematics on the Nemesis. I'm sorry."

Ratchet shook his helm angrily and Optimus said. "Your apology is accepted. However, if you have any more knowledge of the future it would best if you informed us."

"The last episode I saw ended before anyone even got close to the Nemesis, and the only other thing I know about the space bridge is that it's in earth's orbit. I'm now in the dark as much as you are," I said as shook my helm regrettably.

The elevator stopped at ground level, and Ratchet walked into the ops center and then over to his workstation. An image of the earth was on the main screen. Well out of it's atmosphere was a flashing red circle, what I assumed was the space bridges location.

"Like Zechariah said, the space bridge is in earth's orbit and far beyond our range," Ratchet said in an angry tone, likely frustrated at our lack of options.

"Why can't you just ground bridge there?" Miko asked, not knowing the ground bridge had its limitations.

"The ground bridge has limited range," Ratchet put his servos close together for emphasis. "Stretched into orbit it's vortex could snap and scatter us to the stars!" He said with a shake his helm.

Miko looked horrified by the possibility.

Optimus spoke with a fire in his voice. "Since Megatron is likely already in transit I'm afraid we have no choice. Reaching the space bridge first is our only chance of stopping him. Autobots, prepare for departure!"

Optimus turned to me. "Zechariah, you must remain here. You lack proper training in fighting Decepticons." Both his tone and expression were neutral.

"I understand Optimus. I'll see you when you return." I knew he was right, but I still felt worthless as I walked over to Ratchet. At the same time, Jack, Raf and Miko said goodbye to their guardians.

"Um...be seeing you?" Jack said uncertainly, looking up at Arcee. She shrugged in response and walked over to Optimus.

"Be careful," Raf said, looking at Bumblebee, who had become a very good friend in a short time. _"_

_I will be, see you soon,"_ Bumblebee said, standing up from his crouched position and joining Arcee and Optimus.

Miko was acting like... Well, Miko. "I'm so jealous! You get to go in space and I'm stuck here!" Her tone was more frustrated than concerned.

"Don't even think about following me," Bulkhead said, pointing a digit at her and walking to the others. As Bulkhead was walking toward the others, Ratchet spoke.

"Optimus, if you leave me stranded on a planet teaming with humans, along with a mech that used be one himself, I will never forgive you." his tone held what I hoped was false anger and annoyance.

Optimus looked at him with faint amusement, "Until we meet again my old friend," he said, and then activated his battle mask. Turning back to the ground bridge he bellowed "Autobots! Roll out!" He, along with the others, then disappeared into the ground bridge.

* * *

><p>Ratchet had already set up a communications channel so we could hear them as they approached the space bridge.<p>

_"Autobots magnetize!"_ I heard Optimus say. Then the channel went silent for a short time.

Bulkhead was the next to speak, _"Don't look down...or up...or left."_ He sounded like was talking to himself.

After another short silence, Arcee spoke. _"So Megatron is packing enough dark energon to raise the dead of Cybertron?"_ It seemed like she was speaking to the others on the space bridge.

_"And since we don't possess a ready means of disabling the space bridge, nothing gets in or out."_ Optimus said, tone never changing, but still found a way to inspire you.

The channel was silent for almost three klicks before Arcee asked in a confused tone. _"Well...what are they waiting for?"_

Optimus followed up Arcee's statement, _"It appears the Decepticons have sustained serious damage to their interstellar navigations system."_ He said, sounding slightly surprised by this discovery.

_"Huh, that's my handiwork."_ Bulkhead said, tone far more surprised than Optimus'.

_"Great job, Bulkhead. Without the dish, Megatron will be unable to aim the space bridge at Cybertron,"_ Prime's voice was cautious but slightly relieved.

"Don't the Decepticons know where their own planet is?" Raf asked curiously.

"Naturally," Ratchet scoffed. "But Cybertron is located in what you call the Triangulum Galaxy. If the Decepticon's is aim is off by a single nanometer, they will miss their intended target by a hundred light-years. So, their aim must be astronomically precise"

Optimus sighed. _"If Megatron went through the trouble of rendezvousing with his space bridge, then he must have an alternate targeting system, one still on earth."_

Ratchet gave a slight laugh. "Well, we can rule out anything human-made. They don't have a single radio telescope dish powerful enough to pinpoint Cybertron."

As Ratchet was saying this, Raf had been working on the computer. "What about a bunch of linked radio telescope dishes? Like the giant sized array in Texas" he said as he looked over at the medic.

Ratchet, however, didn't think much of the idea. "This is not child's play-"

Optimus cut him off. _"Good thinking Raf. Ratchet, have Agent Fowler alert the array staff to the security threat."_

Agent Fowler suddenly sat up and yelled at me. "You! Soldier!... You're out of uniform!... Put on some pants!" With that, he fell back unconscious.

"I don't think Fowler is up to it, Optimus" I said, doing my best not to laugh.

Raf turned back to the computer and attempted to gain access to the arrays systems. After a klick he sighed, "The array has very advanced firewalls. I can't get in!" He shook his head in frustration.

Ratchet narrowed his optics at Raf. "You... Actually think you could keep the Decepticons out?" I don't know how, but he was sarcastic and curious at the same time.

Raf shrugged. "Maybe... If I could get in," he said, sounding like he wasn't truly sure himself.

Jack suddenly stepped forward. "Raf, what if we could get you all the way in? Like inside the building?" he gestured toward the picture of the array on the screen.

Raf widened his eyes in realization. "If I logged into their internal network from inside the building, the firewall would no longer be a problem." He said, looking at the computer.

_"The risk is too great. The Decepticons will be there, perhaps even inside,"_ Optimus said with a sigh.

Jack got a look of determination on his face. "Optimus, with all due respect, you said it yourself. This is bigger than the safety of three humans." He spoke with a fire I had never heard from him.

Miko added her two cents, "Yeah, if we let the Cons win the whole planet's fragged."

Optimus was silent for a klick. _"Well, Raf?"_ He asked the youngest of the humans.

"I want to give it a try," Raf said immediately.

_"And so you will. Ratchet, bridge them to the arrays location, and stand guard while they are inside,"_ Optimus said, tone suggesting he was impressed with the bravery of the three humans.

Seeing that I might be of some use, I spoke up. "I know you ordered me to stay here because I lack training. I also don't know how to operate the ground bridge. If Ratchet goes with them and you need a bridge, I won't be able to give you one. But I already know how to shoot," I gave Optimus my best argument.

"He's right, Optimus. Also, my servo is only at half strength. Even a very weak drone would get the better of me," Ratchet said, surprisingly backing me up on this.

Optimus was silent for a klick. Finally he said firmly, _"Very well, Zechariah. You will make sure no Decepticons enter the facility, but do not engage unless absolutely necessary."_

"Understood," I said simply, while Ratchet activated the ground bridge. Jack, Raf and Miko started walking into the ground bridge and I followed, a moment later we were gone.

* * *

><p><strong>February 18, 2012 7:17 A.M<strong>

**Giant Sized Array, northwest of the Guadalupe Mountains.**

After going through the ground bridge, the first thing I noticed was how large the array facility was. There were at least forty enormous dishes surrounding us, but only a single large white building.

"Alright, you go inside and get Raf into the system. For obvious reasons I can't follow you, so I'll stay out here watch for any Cons" I said, deploying my Scatter-Blaster.

Jack and the others nodded and ran toward the building, quickly disappearing into the facility's door way.

The facility was quiet... Very quiet. Nothing made any sound as I walked around the building.

Five klicks after they had gone inside and I had circled the building, the dishes started moving simultaneously, then they moved back into their original position, moving one final time and staying locked in place. A moment later, I heard a jet engine from the opposite side of the building from where I was, and by the time I turned the corner the Decepticon was gone. Looking at the top of the building, I noticed the roof had a gaping hole in it.

'How the hell did I miss that?' I thought, angry at myself for missing such an obvious thing.

A klick after the Decepticon flew away, Jack, Raf and Miko exited the building.

As I walked over to them, Ratchet opened a ground bridge and we found ourselves back at base.

* * *

><p><strong>February 18, 2012 7:24 A.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

"What went wrong?" Ratchet asked as he crossed his servos.

Jack then explained what happened inside the building, while I apologized for not stopping the con. Ratchet didn't have time to say anything before his console beeped loudly. Ratchet's optics widened as he looked at it.

"Optimus! I'm reading a rapidly expanding mass in their space bridge vortex! One with a Dark Energon signature," he said anxiously.

Optimus then said through the communications channel, _"Megatron has put his plan in motion. Ratchet, we must destroy the space bridge. There is enough live energon coursing through it to achieve detonation, but we lack the firepower to ignite it."_

Ratchet sighed. "If I knew how the space bridge was engineered I might find a way of accomplishing that," he said with a frustrated tone in his voice.

Raf then pulled something out of his backpack. "Um... Would schematics help?" he asked, holding a flashdrive in his hand.

"Optimus, I must say, the space bridge is our only hope of ever returning to Cybertron. Are you certain this is our only option?" Ratchet asked gravely.

_"I am afraid so..."_ Optimus' tone was similar to Ratchets.

"Then let it light our darkest hour!" Ratchet said, and started giving the other Autobots instructions.

A few klicks later, Fowler, who I now just noticed was walking, said nervously, "These things are getting closer...that's bad right?"

"It's very bad," I said simply, looking down at the government agent.

"When did you get here?" Fowler asked, looking surprised at my presence.

"That's a long story, one that should wait until late,r" I said, hoping he would drop the matter. Thankfully, he did.

_"Ratchet, we're in position,"_ I heard Arcee say through the channel.

"Good, now pay close attention!" Ratchet said urgently. "Below you should be a power line, do you see it?" He asked, then went silent as he waited for a response.

_"Yes,"_ Arcee said, after a moment of silence.

Ratchet continued, "Now follow the line to an energon pump, a large valve should be there."

The line was silent briefly. "I found it," Arcee said, then went quiet and waited for more instructions.

"Good, now all you need to do is reverse the current," Ratchet's voice sounded calm, but I could tell he was nervous.

"Current reversed," Arcee reported, sounding slightly relieved.

When she said this Fowler jumped in the air, "Yes!..." he yelled. Then, after a micro-klick, he looked at Raf. "Right?"

I rolled my optics, and Ratchet, not paying attention to Fowler, said to Arcee, "I'll ready the ground bridge" and walked over to his work station.

_"Don't keep us waiting,"_ Arcee said dryly, then closed the channel.

Ratchet reopened the channel, this time it was with Optimus, "The ground bridge is ready and waiting!" Jis voice held slight fear. Optimus didn't respond, instead he closed the channel again.

* * *

><p>Everyone at base was looking at the ground bridge, anxiously awaiting the others return.<p>

Raf asked worriedly, "Do you...think they're?..." He left his sentence hanging.

Ratchet looked at his servo which held a small computer. "Four life signals... They should be here by now," he said this last part too quietly for human ears to hear.

Optimus suddenly stepped through the ground bridge. He had a neutral look on his faceplate, but I could see faint sadness in his optics. Bulkhead came through the ground bridge after Optimus, looking very tired. Miko ran up to him and hugged his servo, which made him give a slight smile. Arcee and Bumblebee came through the bridge shortly after Bulkhead. Both had blackened spots on their armor from Decepticon fire and looks of exhaustion on their faceplates.

As Miko, Raf and Jack welcomed their guardians back, Ratchet leaned toward Optimus. "And Megatron?" He asked quietly.

"Not even Megatron could have survived ground zero," Optimus said, keeping all emotion from his voice.

"So..." Agent Fowler began. "When did he get here?" He asked Optimus, then looked up at me.

"Do you see every civilian you encountered here yesterday, Agent Fowler?" Optimus asked, seeming to avoid the question.

Scrunching his eyebrows in confusion, Fowler looked around the room. After a klick of searching he looked back at Optimus.

"No, I only see three out of four, the tallest one is gone," Fowler said, looking even more confused.

Optimus shook his helm. "No, Agent Fowler. All four of the civilians you encountered are in this room," he said evenly, but his optics seemed to be smiling.

Fowler kept his confused look for a moment, then widened his eyes and looked at me in shock.

"Hey... How you doing?" I asked casually.

The government agent just stared at me with his mouth slightly agape, not saying anything.

"Perhaps it is best that we tell you the full story another time, Agent Fowler," Optimus said after Fowler continued to stare at me for a few micro-klicks.

Fowler nodded mutely and walked toward the elevator, but not before he thanked the bots for his rescue.

"So... Is this the part where you say goodbye and tell us to forget everything that's happened? Because I'm not going to forget," Miko asked nervously after Fowler left.

Optimus shook his helm. "No, you all shall remain under our protection, as long as you need us."

Jack, Miko and Raf looked pleased by this, but none more then Miko. "YES! Bulkhead, we have to go to a concert, oh and monster truck rally, and..."

I automatically tuned her out after that.

"Arcee, I want you to be in charge of Zechariah's training," Optimus said as Miko kept talking.

Just as Arcee was responding, Miko cut her off and looked at me with excitement written on her face. "You should change your name, something like... Like Warhammer! Or Fireblast! How about Shadowstreak?! Or..." She would have kept going had I not stopped her with an upheld servo.

"Miko... Thank you for the suggestions and I will consider them, but I believe Arcee was trying to say something," I gestured for Arcee to continue.

Arcee gave me a grateful nod. "As I was saying, I have no problem with helping in his training, but I'll need help. Are you going to train him as well?" She asked, looking at Optimus.

"With the time I can spare, yes. All of us will," Optimus turned his helm slightly at Ratchet at that last part, making the medic grumble something I couldn't hear. Arcee nodded. "Alright, when do you want us to start?" She asked, with her servos crossed over her chestplates.

"Sorry to interrupt, but my mom just asked if I could come home early," Jack said apologetically, holding up his phone.

Raf checked the time on his phone. "My dad said to be home by nine o'clock, and it's eight right now."

"Take the children home, we will discuss Zechariah's training next cycle," Optimus said, looking at Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Arcee.

It was approximately five breems after they left that I asked Ratchet where I could recharge.

He walked away from his work station and said simply, "This way." As we walked down the same hall that held the med-bay, Ratchet turned toward me. "Miko was right in a way. Not only do you need a new name, you also need to find alt modes."

"I know, I've been considering both since they left," I said, having already reached the same conclusion.

Ratchet stopped in front of the third door after his med-bay and pressed a button off to the side.

What I now knew must be my quarters were very large, but mostly spartan. There was a bot-sized desk in the left corner with two cubes for energon on it. There was a recharge berth that was more than large enough for me, and that was all besides the lights. I turned to look at Ratchet, but found he was already gone. Shrugging my shoulder-joints, I walked into my quarters, locked the door, and turned the lights out after I got on the recharge berth. It wasn't even a klick later that I fell into a deep recharge.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, there's another chapter cleaned up still have several to go.<strong>

** I don't really know why I put all the terms in one place when I first wrote this chapter... *Scratches head in confusion before shrugging* But I will keep them here.  
><strong>

**Mech=Man.**

**Femme=Woman.**

**Carrier=Mother.**

**Sire=Father.  
><strong>

**Helm=head.**

**Optics=eyes.**

**Audio Receptors=ears.**

**Shoulder-Joints=self-explanatory.**

**Backplates=again self-explanatory.**

**Chestplates=don't make me say self-explanatory again... Wait.**

**Servos=hands/arms.**

**Digit=finger.**

**Pedes=legs.**

**Spark=basically a Cybertronian's soul.**

**Chassis=body.**

**Frame=also a term for body, but used differently. Go back and read the part in the chapter where Zechariah destroys the building, I used it there.**

**CPU=brain.**

**Processor=can also be a term for brain.**

**Astro-Klick=one millisecond.**

**Nano-Klick=one-tenth of a second.**

**Micro-Klick=one second.**

**Klick=one minute.**

**Breem=one hour.**

**Solar-Cycle=one day.**

**Mega-Cycle=one week.**

**Jour=one month.**

**Orbital-Cycle=one year.**

**Vorn=eighty three years.**

**Centi-Vorn=eight thousand three hundred years.**

**This chapter's credit song is "Augest Burns Red - Carol of the Bells" I posted this chapter during the Christmas/Holiday season. And since I didn't want to put an actual Christmas song as the credit song, as I can't stand most Christmas music, I put this here. So, enjoy.**


	7. Ratchet Is A bit Of a Control Freak

**And another one clean, and no less horrible than the last. I mean, good gosh, I thought this was good? Wow.**

** FireFox Vixen - That was what I was going for, thank you.**

****Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.****

* * *

><p><strong>February 26, 2012 9:56 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

It had been one mega-cycle since I started training. Most of that time was spent down in the area where I destroyed the building. I learned it was called the Safe. Arcee kept me on a very tight schedule when it came to my training. From six in the morning until ten at night she had me spar, run the obstacle course, and test my battle awareness with combat simulations.

When I went to spar, Arcee would often give me a severe handicap, either by making me use one servo or pede, or by having me fight multiple opponents. I once went against Bulkhead, Ratchet and Bumblebee at once with a servo tied behind my backplates. That fight went... Less than well. But, it taught me a lesson in the fact that not every fight was going to be fair.

The obstacle course was like five stages of pain and suffering.

The first stage was a long crawl under barbed wire with electricity coursing through it. Due to my very large frame I hit the wire at least four times before getting to the next stage. Stage two was a series of rotating clubs that hit you every time you touched them. Again, due to my size, it made this stage a difficult one, and also painful. The third stage was to climb a wall that came so close to the ceiling I would almost hit my helm, then I was to jump down to the other side from the top.

Stage four was set up for testing agility. There were narrow beams I was to run across, high walls to jump over, and a swinging pipe on the other side that I immediately had to duck under.

The final stage was a maze that Ratchet would change every time I went through was by far the least painful stage but also the most difficult. Arcee would give me a time limit to finish the maze and if I didn't finish by that time, I had to restart.

We rarely used the combat simulator, and when we did, Arcee would program it for random scenarios. The most common ones simulated how would I fight Decepticons in a heavily populated city, or how to protect Miko, Jack and Raf if I found myself ambushed.

When I wasn't sparing, running the obstacle course or in the simulator, Optimus was teaching me the Cybertronian language, history, and culture. At the end of the cycle, I would go to my quarters and get the second of my two daily cubes of energon.

I found out that energon had three levels of quality. Low-grade was the most common energon on earth. This was the same type as most of our supply. It had a slightly bitter, and slightly sweet taste, reminding me of grapefruit juice. Mid-grade was less common then low-grade, and it had a much more bitter taste, though sometimes it also could be equally sweet. I never tasted alcohol as a human, but apparently mid-grade was similar lower-end alcohol for Cybertronians. Drink too many cubes at once and you'd overcharge. That was the Cybertronian version of being drunk.

The last type of energon was high-grade. There wasn't any high-grade on earth, but according to Ratchet, it was far more potent than mid-grade. Unlike the other types, high-grade would change flavor. One micro-klick it was bitter, and the next it was sweet or sour. When Ratchet described the flavor of high-grade to me, he had a look of longing on his faceplate.

Getting back on track, I was currently in a weapons spar with Bulkhead, which made our melee weapons legal to use.

Of course, using our actual melee weapons would cause significant damage, so Ratchet had created a number of weapons used only for sparing. These were made with a reactive metal. When coming into contact with another weapon of the same material, they would behave normally. However, when they came into contact with Cybertronian armor, they would shatter like glass. That was how to win a sparing match, or at least one of the ways. Score what would normally be a fatal hit on an opponent, and you've won.

Bulkhead and I had yet to make the first move. We were slowly circling each other, holding our weapons at the ready. It was Bulkhead's clubs versus my broad swords. Bumblebee, Arcee, Miko, Jack and Raf were standing outside the ring, waiting for the first move.

"Kick his aft, Bulkhead!" Miko yelled, standing next to Jack and Raf, who in turn were next to Arcee. I heard Jack and Raf sigh at her words.

"Gee, thanks, Miko," I said sarcastically, not looking away from Bulkhead.

Miko didn't miss a beat, "You'er welcome!" she responded, making me roll my optics.

Bulkhead made the first move at that moment. He swung at me with his right club, trying to hit my helm. I brought my left sword up to intercept his strike while moving my right sword in position to block where I excepted his next attack would be. Our weapons met loudly less than a micro-klick later. As I predicted, immediately following his first attack he swung at me with his left club, which was blocked by my right sword. I pushed Bulkhead away from me, spun and crouched, sweeping his pedes out from under him.

Bulkhead hit the ground and immediately rolled, making me just miss getting a quick win by hitting his chestplates. I ducked under his counter-attack after he got back on his pedes. Taking the initiative, I swung my left sword at his pedes, and my right sword at his helm, making him back up to avoid the strikes. Following this up, I faked left and swung right with both swords.

Bulkhead wasn't fooled. He blocked my attack, then kicked me back away from him. Bulkhead rushed forward to end the match by swinging both clubs at my helm.

In a counter-attack, I jumped to the right and swung one sword at his backplates and the other at his helm. Both hit their marks and shattered, but the one that hit his backplates wouldn't have been a lethal hit. However, my second sword would have decapitated him had I been using my real one.

I detached what remained of my swords and walked over to Bulkhead and said modestly, "I got luckly. Good match, Bulkhead." I never liked to rub in a victory, no matter if I deserved it or not.

Bulkhead rose an optic ridge. "That wasn't luck, kid, you won that match with skill," he said approvingly.

I shrugged, not comfortable with any praise directed at me.

"All right, get some energon. You're done for the cycle," Arcee said as she and Jack walked toward the elevator, keeping it open for the rest of us.

As I followed them to the elevator, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Raf and Miko joined me.

"I can't believe you lost!" Miko yelled in frustration at Bulkhead.

I just shook my helm as Miko continued to scold Bulkhead about losing. After the elevator stopped at ground level we all walked to the ops center. On the floor directly in front of me I saw a homemade volcano sitting on a small table. To the left of the table was full-sized model of a motorcycle, and on the catwalks railing was a model of the solar system with buckets of paint next to it. I looked down at Jack, Raf and Miko as they walked past me.

"School projects?" I asked with a raised optic ridge.

Jack looked up at me and nodded "Yeah, I have to assemble the motorcycle," he said, walking toward his project.

"I'm making a model of our solar system!" Miko said excitedly, as she had Bulkhead hold the model up for her to paint.

I looked at Raf and Bumblebee as they pored an alarming amount of liquid into the volcano. "Are you sure you're supposed to use that mu-" an explosion cut me off.

As the dust and smoke cleared, I saw Raf standing in the same place, and Bumbelee had a look of surprise on his faceplate.

Ratchet and Optimus ran over from the other side of the ops center, likely to investigate the explosion, but they relaxed when they saw what had happened.

"_Can we do that again?_" Bumblebee asked, sounding much younger then usual.

"I don't think so, 'Bee" Raf said, wiping his glasses and looking at the now destroyed volcano.

Ratchet looked over to where Miko was painting her solar system model on the catwalk, then over at Jack and Arcee as they assembled the motorcycle. "What...in the Allspark...is going on here?" He asked with barely concealed anger and exasperation.

Jack shrugged at Ratchet's question. "Our projects are due tomorrow. We couldn't work on them at home so we brought them here" he said, focusing on his project.

Arcee picked up what I believed was a muffler. "Maybe it needs one of these do-hickies" she suggested, holding the part toward Jack.

"You're a motorcycle, Arcee. Shouldn't you know how to build a motorcycle engine?" Jack asked in teasing tone.

"You're a human, Jack. Can you build me a small intestine?" Arcee countered, a servo placed on her on her hip as she looked at Jack expectantly.

"She does have a point there, Jack," I commented dryly, making Jack roll his eyes at me.

Ratchet looked at Miko, Raf and Jack in frustration. "Well... You can't work on these projects in here you're... Making a mess." He obviously was fishing for any excuse for them not to work inside.

"The science fair is big part of our grade, and we don't have anywhere else to work," Raf protested, looking up at the medic.

As Raf was talking, Miko had walked along the catwalk toward us. "Yeah, if Bulkhead doesn't help me finish this model of our solar syste-"

Ratchet cut her off, "Oh? And what does _Bulkhead_ know of your solar system?" He scoffed, failing to notice Bulkhead open his mouth to speak as he continued, "Or Bumblebee of your volcanoes? Or A-"

Jack interrupted Ratchet mid-rant, "Arcee of our motorcycles?" Arcee gave her human charge a light glare at that.

Ratchet continued a micro-klick later, "Precisely! We're not earthlings, and they're," He gestured to Arcee, Bumblebee, and Bulkhead, "Not scientists."

"But to be fair, Ratchet, what do you know about this solar system?... Or Earths volcanoes?... Or human motorcycles?" I asked, looking at Miko, Raf and Jack's projects as I spoke.

My only response was Ratchet grumbling something under his breath and walking to his work station. As other the Autobots went back to helping Miko, Jack and Raf after he left, I walked to my quarters, and got my first cube of energon of the cycle.

* * *

><p>Fifteen klicks after I returned to the ops center, I got into a semi-heated debate with Miko and Bulkhead about music.<p>

"All I'm saying is, when I listen to music I like, to understand the lyrics, not hear someone scream into the mic," I said easily.

"But that's the best part! How are you_ not_ pumped up by that?" Miko asked in an exasperated voice, having already tried to explain this twice.

"Because I like actually _hearing_ afterwards," I replied.

Our conversation was cut short, since an alarm sounded from Ratchet's workstation.

"Exposed energon, and it's on the move," Ratchet said as the rest of us walked over to him.

"And since we aren't moving it, guess who it must be..." Bulkhead stated, now standing off to Ratchet's left with Arcee, looking at the screen.

"The Decepticons," Arcee finished Bulkhead's thought, crossing her servos over her chestplates.

"They _have_ been quiet this past mega-cycle," I said, standing to the right of Ratchet.

"So they were..." Optimus said , looking at the screen in thought. "Autobots, you all have projects to complete. Ratchet, I may require aid," Optimus turned slightly to look at Ratchet.

The medic glanced at Raf as he and Bumblebee rebuilt the volcano. "The science fair _is_ a big part of their grade..." Ratchet said, almost to himself. He turned back to Optimus. "Perhaps I'm better suited to remain behind and advise." Jis voice was filled with excitement, which made me nervous.

Optimus narrowed his optics slightly in suspicion, but his voice was even, however, as he spoke. "Very well. Bumblebee, let us see about this energon in transit," Optimus said, looking at the scout as he worked with Raf.

"I know your response will likely be no, but I still request to go on the mission as well," I said, looking at the Prime with my servos behind my backplates.

"You must remain here until your training is complete. And you have chosen both a name, and alt modes, Zechariah" Optimus said, as the ground bridge activated.

"Understood, Optimus," I said with a slight sigh.

A moment later, Optimus and Bumblebee disappeared into the ground bridge.

* * *

><p>My internal clock read Optimus and Bumblebee had left base a little over one breem ago. In that time Ratchet had gathered some scrap metal, and completely rebuilt Raf's volcano into something I no longer recognized. Bulkhead, Arcee and I were standing to the left of Ratchet's workstation, while Jack and Miko stood on the cat walk. We were all watching the medic work on Raf's project with a kind of excitement that I had only ever seen from one person. Dr. Frankenstein.<p>

"Now let's see, where is it?" Ratchet said to himself after making a weld.

Raf, who was standing between Ratchet's pedes asked, "Um... What is it?"

Ratchet didn't truly answer his question. "Yoouu'lll find out," he said, not looking at Raf as he drew out his simple statement. He just kept welding.

"But, Ratchet... Shouldn't I be doing the work?" Raf asked uncertainly as he reached out to touch what Ratchet was working on.

"Eap! Yap! Yap! Yap! Don't touch! Just watch, and learn," Ratchet said quickly, before Raf could touch anything.

Bulkhead then spoke uneasily. "So... We're just gonna help Jack and Miko finish thei-"

Ratchet cut him off, "_Without_ my supervision?! You want them to be right don't you?" He asked Bulkhead and Arcee. He sounded like he cared about how Jack, Miko, and Raf did on their projects.

Ratchet spoke again before Arcee or Bulkhead had the chance to, "Now watch!... A master!...At work!" Went back to working on Raf's project, with a look on his faceplate that had me convinced he was secretly an evil scientist.

"Um... Ratchet? This is just an observation... but volcanoes on Eerth aren't made out of metal..." I said cautiously after Ratchet started welding again.

"I'm not making a volcano from Earth" Ratchet stated, not turning from his work. I tried to ask what it was then, but Ratchet brought a digit to his lips "Shhh... I'm working," he said quietly, his evil scientist look returning slightly.

"Should we stop him?" I whispered to the others.

Arcee and Bulkhead just shrugged in response as we kept watching Ratchet build Raf's project.

* * *

><p>Four more breems passed. Not wanting to leave their projects at base, Jack called his mom and asked to sleep over at a friend's house. Raf asked his parents the same thing. According to Miko, her host parents didn't care, so she didn't bother calling. The three of them played video games and watched Ratchet work until about five klicks ago, when they gave up waiting and went to the makeshift beds we set up for them.<p>

Arcee, Bulkhead and I were standing with our last cubes of energon for the cycle on the opposite side of the ops center from Rachet. We watched as the control freak of a medic worked on what used to be Jack's project.

"You think he'll fall into recharge from over-working?" Arcee asked, nodding in the direction of Ratchet.

"Yup, my guess is he'll fall offline just as Jack's project is complete, after Optimus and Bumblebee get back," I said, taking a sip of energon from my cube.

"Nah, Ratchet's an old mech, I bet he falls to recharge before he completes the project, and _before_ Optimus and 'Bee get back," Bulkhead said, getting a disappointed look on his faceplate when he noticed his cube was empty.

Arcee shook her helm at us. "I think he'll complete Jack's project, then go into recharge before Optimus and 'Bee return," she said, finishing her cube off.

I looked over at Bulkhead and Arcee. "Should we make this a bet?" I asked with raised optic ridges

. Bulkhead gave a short laugh "What would we bet?" His voice was both amused and curious.

"Energon rations for a cycle?" Arcee suggested, looking between Bulkhead and I.

"Hmmm... That would work. What do you think, Bulkhead?" I asked.

Bulkhead nodded. "That's acceptable," he said, looking back at Ratchet.

Less than a klick later, Optimus opened a channel at Ratchet's workstation. _"Ratchet? we need a-"_ Before he could finish, Ratchet activated the ground bridge and went back to working on Jack's project.

Just before Optimus and Bumblebee walked through the ground bridge, Ratchet suddenly stiffened while holding what looked like the final piece of Jack's project.

Standing completely still for a micro-klick, he then fell straight on his backplates, making Jack, Miko and Raf wake with a start from the loud noise. The final piece of Jack's project flew from Ratchet's servo when he hit the floor. It bounced and landed in the exact spot Ratchet was going to place it anyway, thus completing Jack's project, in a different way than Arcee or I predicated.

Optimus walked over to the now-recharging Ratchet, while grabbing my nearly empty cube of energon to revive the medic.

"How do we rule that?" Arcee asked Bulkhead and I, a blank look on her faceplate and a flat, dry tone in her voice.

_"Rule what?"_ Bumblebee asked, looking at the three of us in confusion.

"We bet when Ratchet would fall into recharge from working too much," I said with a shrug.

Bulkhead looked at Arcee and I. "How 'bout we call it a three-way tie?" He asked hopefully.

"No, I'd say none of us win, and thus we all lose. He technically went into recharge before Optimus and Bee got back. That would make one of you the winner." I looked at Bulkhead and Arcee then continued. "But, he completed Jack's project after 'Bee and Optimus returned which would make me the winner. What makes _none_ of us win, is that Ratchet completed Jack's project _after_ he fell to recharge." I concluded, glancing at over Optimus as he finally revived the medic.

"Makes sense when you put it that way. I'm going to go recharge. I want a rematch in the ring next cycle, kid," Bulkhead said to me over his shoulder-joint.

I gave a nod of acknowledgement in Bulkhead's direction. Jack, Raf and Miko had already fallen back asleep after finding out Ratchet was responsible for waking them. I asked Optimus and Bumblebee what happened on the misson. They said Starscream revived a Decepticon seeker named Skyquake, who attacked both them and Starscream. The battle with Skyquake apparently was going well, then Agent Fowler showed up in a F-35. Skyquake scanned it and gained air superiority.

The lengthy battle only ended a breem ago with Skyquake's offlining. I had been tempted to make a comment about how the battle might have gone faster if I was there, but decided against it. I would have sounded both arrogant and disrespectful of Optimus' judgment. After Ratchet scanned both Optimus and Bumblebee for injuries, he went off to recharge properly, mumbling as he went. I went to my own quarters five klicks later and quickly fell into recharge.

The following solar cycle was similar to the previous one. I trained down in the Safe with Arcee until she took Jack to school. Optimus then came down into the Safe and trained me while Arcee and the others were gone. Of course he had trained me in a similar way as Arcee did, but sparing with Arcee was far less painful. He won every single match and I don't even think he was trying. But I learned more in every match we did, and in my opinion, that made the pain was worth it.

It was currently in the afternoon, and I was standing in the ops center with my first cube of energon of the cycle, when Arcee, Bulkhead and Bumblebee returned with Miko, Jack and Raf.

"So how'd you do on your projects?" I asked them, finishing off my cube.

Ratchet rushed past me from where he was standing at his workstation. "Yes, how were my-I mean _your_ projects received?" His evil scientist look had returned. Probably not a good sign.

They glanced at each over, then looked up at him "We um... We got F's," Jack replied.

"What do you mean you got an 'F'? An 'F' is a letter in your English alphabet. What does a letter have to do with the projects?" Ratchet asked, confused.

I chuckled lightly. "Ratchet, what he means by 'we got F's' is that their projects got the lowest grades possible. Sorry about that, by the way," I directed the last part at Jack, Raf and Miko.

"_Lowest_ grade? On Cybertron, those projects would have received the highest honors!" Ratchet said, shaking his helm in frustration.

"Well... The school tends to look down on projects that have_ nothing_ to do with _our_ solar system!" Miko yelled at Ratchet.

"Or projects that destroy doors," Jack's tone was angry, but far less then Miko's.

"Or a project that blows a hole in the school's roof," Raf said nervously, making Ratchet and I look at him in shock.

"Yeah that's the same look the fire fighters had when the principle told them how the fire started," Miko said with her usual humor.

After Miko's words, Arcee then told me to go back down to the safe. The remainder of the cycle was the usual. Sparing, using the combat simulator, running the obstacle course, and practicing on the weapons range. That was always my favorite part. It was when I went to recharge for the cycle that things became... Strange.

* * *

><p><em>The moment I fell into recharge, I found myself back in the desert. It was the same as the first time I was here, the ever-present clouds were the same dark gray, and the dust storm was still going on strong without any wind. Seeing that I was alone and I had no idea where I was, I picked a direction and walked. <em>

_I found areas I hadn't seen before, such as a small lake and a rather ominous looking mountain. About a breem of wandering later, as I walked past an large outcroping of rocks, I suddenly felt a number of emotions that were not my own that nearly flooded my senses._

_ It was as if I was standing in a river, a river whose flow I had control over. Lessening the flood of emotion I was receiving until I could focus, I became aware of the presence of someone. Someone who felt familiar._

_"You seem to be lost," the voice of Solus said from the outcropping. __I could both hear and feel her amusement. _

_Looking in the direction I heard her voice, I saw nothing but rocks. "This is a parental bond I'm feeling, isn't it?" I asked, still trying to locate Solus. I felt a slight surge of pride from the other side of the bond. "Got it in one," Solus said as I walked into the rocky outcropping. _

_I could feel Solus close by, and I soon found her standing next to one of the larger rocks. "Okay, I don't want to sound rude, but... Why am I here?... Again" I asked, looking at who was now officially my femme creator. _

_Solus didn't get the chance to answer my question, since we heard someone speak from nearby._

_"Where am I?... Am I dead?" It was the voice of Sam Witwicky, and turning to my left I saw him looking around confused. _

_"He's one of the reasons," Solus said, pointing a digit at Sam._

_ I got a sense of realization "There are only five of you here," I said._

_A strange mix of emotions came from Solus' side of our bond, but I couldn't place any of them. "Yes, and we need six to speak with Sam," my femme creator said, sending some humor to me to cover up the emotions I couldn't identify. Huh. _

_Prima, Alpha Trion, Vector Prime and Zeta Prime then walked up to Solus and I. _

_"Just stand next to us, and try to look like a Prime," Zeta whispered to me. _

_I rolled my optics incredulously in response._

_ Vector then stepped forward to address Sam. "We have been watching you a long, long time" he said, reapeating a line from Revenge Of The Fallen. _

_I stood with my servos behind my backplates, trying not to look out of place among the Primes, and also likely failing. _

_"You fought for Optimus, one of the last of our descendants," Prima said, glancing down at the now even more confused Witwicky. _

_"Wait... _One_ of your last descendants? Optimus isn't the last?" Sam asked, looking at all of us for an answer._

_ Vector and Zeta, who were standing to my left, gave me a sideways glance. Sam's gaze lingered on me a moment longer then the others. This was likely because of the wheels on my pedes and wings on my backplates, features none of the Primes had. _

_"No, Samuel, Optimus is not our last descendant." Prima said, answering Sam's question in a neutral tone before continuing from his original statement, "When you searched for the Matrix Of Leadership, you displayed the courage of a born leader, one worthy of our secret. The Matrix is not found, but earned. Now go and return to Optimus," Prima concluded. And he and the others opened space bridges and teleported away like The Fallen, leaving me alone with Sam._

_"Okay, um... I don't really know why we're both just standing here... But the other guy said 'Return to Optimus.' And that would mean I need to _leave_ here... So can you, like, flick the switch or reset the router or something, so I can go back to my crazy life?" Sam said, in one of his lengthy and often awkward rants. _

_"I'm not the one keeping you here, Sam, and for the record, I will bet money my life is crazier then yours," I said easily, confident he couldn't top dying in your original reality, starting a new life in a parallel reality you had limited knowledge of, and changing from a six and half foot tall human, into a forty-five foot tall Cybertronian whose femme creator was Solus Prime._

_ "Okay, you can't say your life _IS_ crazier, when you've probably been dead for like thousands of years! And if you're not keeping me here, why is it just the two of us?" Sam gestured around the empty desert. Well, to him it was empty. I could feel Solus watching our exchange nearby._

_"Maybe they blew a fuse, I swear Vector does that every Christmas," I said jokingly. _

_Sam widened his eyes when I mentioned Christmas. _

_"By the way, our term for death is offline... And I never said I was offline," I finished, in what I hoped was a mysterious tone. Although, I didn't have a lot of practice using one._

_ Sam tried to say something, but he then disappeared before he could open his mouth. I felt Solus' presence getting closer, and I soon heard all the Primes stop behind me. _

_"You were only supposed to stand still and not say anything" Zeta said, with a patient but gruff tone. _

_"Which I did, until you left me alone with Witwicky. Look on the bright side, Sam will have an interesting story to tell when he goes back" I said dryly, giving Zeta a shrug. _

_The Primes suddenly glanced behind me, then looked at me uncertainly. Solus sent me a wave of nervousness through the bond. _

_"I agree with Zechariah, Sam will have a far more interesting tale to tell then before. This version was more amusing. Also was funny just to see you both standing there, uncertain about what to do," an unfamiliar voice said, in the direction the Primes had looked. _

_I turned toward the voice, and my optics widened when I recognized the mech. I immediately deployed my broad swords and leapt toward the mech who was now my opponent... The Fallen._

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><p><strong>I think I MAY have thought I was good at writing back at this point in time, but ah... Yeah. Definitely not. So glad I've learned since I started. I feel like I said that before, but still.<strong>

**This chapters credit song "Two Steps From Hell - Exodus" *Listens to song* Well... Maybe this fits, but it's a little sketchy, and I am feeling a little lazy right now, so I am just going to leave it as is.**

**A Cybertronian term I haven't used before.**

**Parental Bond - Only formed between the creators and their creations. Parental Bonds allow Cybertronians to feel the emotions of their creators or creations. When either a creator or creation suddenly feels pain, the other will know, and send feelings of love and comfort through their side of the bond. Greatly reducing the other Cybertronian's pain.  
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**PS. I even had to edit the author's note in this one! The AUTHOR'S note! Okay, I'm done.**

**Please fight through the pain, improvement is coming.**


	8. Sometimes Knowledge Can Hurt

**Alright, just so you know, this chapter is shorter than usual, but still around 3k words. That's all, I'll see you at the bottom.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro, I only own my OC.  
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><p><strong>Transcending Time<strong>

**Pocket Universe**

_I swung my swords at The Fallen, only to see both of them pass clean through him as if he was made out of smoke. I, too, passed through the mech and landed in a crouch behind him. "I must give you credit, Zechariah. I wouldn't have been able to block that attack...if you were really here that is" The Fallen said, slightly impressed, as he turned to look at me. I noticed his optics were a sky blue similar to the Primes, and his chassis was gold and blue in color instead of black and red. _

_Solus must have felt my confusion as I heard her say to the others, "Give us a few klicks." They nodded and walked away. I deactivated my swords since they were useless, but didn't stop giving The Fallen a wary look as I stood from my crouching position. "Ask your questions" my femme creator said, while standing to The Fallen's left. "How is he here? Why is he here? Why are you standing next to him and not attacking him? Why does he look like an actual prime and not a traitor? And what does he mean that I'm not really here?" I asked at a speed that Miko would have been proud of. _

_The Fallen and Solus rose one of their optic ridges and looked at each other at the same time, making me narrow my own optics in suspicion at their synchronized movement. "How 'bout we answer those out of order?" Solus said, turning back to look at me. The Fallen then spoke. "To answer your last question, you aren't physically here with us. You are standing in front of us only in your CPU, and that is only possible because of the bond you share with Solus." I crossed my servos as I said to The Fallen coldly, "That explains why my sword didn't cut off your helm. I would very much like to know how and why you are even here."_

_ I caught some emotions from Solus that communicated, 'Tread carefully.' Strangely, they were not directed at me. The fallen prime leaned slightly on his staff with both servos. "Are you aware that The Allspark only appears in the reality your original one created films about?" he asked with a neutral look. He continued before I responded, "That is because we sent it there." Suddenly, I was standing next to Solus and The Fallen watching scenes from an event that occurred so long ago there was no way to measure the vorns._

_The Fallen continued, "Cybertron is far larger than any planet in the earth's solar system, and unlike any other planet, Cybertron has countless levels that go straight to it's core. When the Cybertronian race was very young we only numbered in the dozens. We explored our home for centi-vorns, but it was very dangerous. On what would have been our last expedition into the depths of Cybertron we discovered The Allspark deep under the surface of Cybertron."_

_ For the first time I saw every member of The Thirteen. All of them were standing in a massive cavern that The Allspark was occupying. When The Fallen continued his voice still held the awe I could plainly see on every member of The Thirteen, even Prima and Alpha Trion. "The Allspark was the essence of Primus. It wasn't possible for you to feel alone or unwelcomed when standing in that cavern."_

_ His voice then filled with regret and sorrow as I saw that he had been carrying a piece of dark energon when they first found The Allspark. "Earlier in our travels, I discovered a small amount of dark energon that I was going to study when we returned to the surface. This was my downfall. The dark energon corrupted my CPU, increasing my power and giving me false promises of glory if I destroyed The Allspark. My fellow Primes and the first generation of Cybertronians that followed our creation saw my sanity disappear. They stood between me and The Allspark to protect it... I offlined many of them in my madness." _

_Prima then took center stage in the vision. He was standing over the offlined chassis of two Primes I didn't know the names of and my femme creator as she clutched at her spark and seemed to be in terrible pain despite the fact she had no wounds. The Fallen, looking like the mech I remembered, leapt at Prima with murderous intent, only to be stopped well short of his goal. Then his optics briefly returned to their sky blue. "For a short time, I regained my sanity and told Prima what the dark energon had done to my CPU and that when I descended into madness again I would go after The Allspark no matter where it was. He opened a portal and sent The Cube into a parallel reality, and I followed it." The visions ended and we back to standing in the desert. _

_"What you must understand is that The Fallen and I became two separate beings when I entered the portal. The Fallen has been trapped in the parallel reality with The Allspark since we sent it there. He arrived well after The Cube started creating Cybertronians in that reality, mostly destroying his hopes of glory and power. I have been living in this pocket universe since that cycle, waiting for a chance at redemption" The Fallen concluded. "If you've been here since you sent The Allspark away, why didn't I see you first time I was here?" I admit his story was convincing but I couldn't be sure. He rose an optic ridge "Why did you attack me on sight?" He made a valid point, I attacked him because I believed him to be The Fallen._

_"I'll give you that one, but if you're not The Fallen then what should I call you?" my cold tone from earlier had disappeared. "My actual name, Megatronus Prime would be nice" he said simply. I gave a nod of acknowledgement in response and turned to Solus. "This explained my questions, but now I have a new one. Back when you were in the battle at The Allspark cavern, you seemed to be in great pain but you didn't have any wounds. Why is that?" I asked. Immediately I felt her become very nervous. "We have one more thing to discuss with you" she said, giving me a cautious look._

_ "Megatronus and I are sparkmates" she said, as Megatronus put a servo on her shoulder-joint. I didn't say anything for a long while, just looked at two of them blankly and thought about what this meant. This technically would make Megatronus my sire, since Solus was my carrier. It made sense, as Solus had no visible injuries in The Allspark cavern but was still in pain. For a Cybertronian that could only mean that a bond had been violently closed, which The Fallen likely did when he took over Megatronus' CPU. So why couldn't I accept Megatronus as I've accepted Solus? Was it because I've only just meet him? No, I accepted Solus and I've only talked with her once before now. Is it because my father was still alive when I left my original reality?_

_ Apparently the other Primes had rejoined us as Vector waved a servo in front of my optics. "Hey! We need you out here. Are you still with us?" his faceplate appeared in the lower part of my vision since he was slightly shorter then Solus. I shook my helm. "Yeah, just thinking" I said, looking at Solus and Megatronus. "Good, because we are running out of time again" Alpha Trion said from behind me. I turned and noticed that like last time I was surrounded by The Thirteen. Solus and Megatronus was directly in front of me. Vector and Zeta were standing on either side, and Prima and Alpha Trion were behind me. _

_"Um... we were kind of talking" I gestured to Megatronus and my femme creator. "It will have to wait" Solus said calmly, but the bond told me for some reason she was worried about me. "You remember, of course, when I said that I could see parallel realities and all possible outcomes in each one?" Vector said, then continued before I could respond. "Well, Primus has told us to give you limited knowledge about the future of your new reality. This knowledge will likely be inaccurate since you have already changed things with your mere presence."_

_"You know everything that's going to happen not only in the future, but in the future of every reality" I said with realization. He shook his helm and started to explain "That isn't possible. The multiverse is infinite, so in theory..." Prima cut him off. "Please, not right now Vector" he said, then looked at me. "Zechariah... the only way we can give you this knowledge is very painful, so do the best you can to remain calm" he said, with an even tone. I tried to ask what the rush was but he held up a servo and said "You can ask questions later, remember, stay calm." He, along with the other Primes closed their optics. A micro-klick later, incredible pain went through my processor. I fell to one pede and grabbed my helm with both servos. All I could see were visions of the Autobots, along with Jack, Raf and Miko. _

_The first visions were things that already happened. I saw Cliffjumper being offlined, Jack talking with Arcee in the alley, Miko following Bulkhead to The Nemesis. I was faintly aware of Solus sending me feelings of comfort trying to take away some of my pain, it wasn't working. The visions were increasing in speed. I briefly saw Bumblebee walking at base then he suddenly stopped and his optics became dark. Then I saw an unfamiliar mech strapped to a table with humans cutting off parts of his armor and taking notes. The last vision I could make out was Arcee somehow stuck on Bulkhead's backplates. _

_Then the visions moved at a speed I couldn't follow, and finally stopped completely. My helm felt like someone packed explosives into it and detonated them as I got back on my pedes. "I apologize for the lack of information a moment ago, but we didn't have much time" Prima said, crouching next to me. "And why...didn't you?" I asked, wincing in pain at the severe processor-ache I now had. Vector spoke from my left, "Because, the technique we just used to give you knowledge takes certain preparations, ones that only last for a short amount of time. Now, as I was saying before..." He tried to continue from where he stopped talking about the mutiverse but I held up a servo. _

_"Not now...I have the worst processor-ache... and I think it's about time I went back to recharging in my berth" I said, with closed optics and and a servo on the side of my helm. "Very well, then you can continue your conversation with your creators another time" Prima said, and I found myself back on my berth before I could say a word._

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><p><strong>February 28, 2012 2:15 A.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

My processor-ache wasn't as bad now, but it still hurt like hell as I slowly sat up from my berth. My internal clock read that only fifteen klicks had passed since I came here for recharge, but there was no way I would get any recharge with this processor ache.

The hallway outside my quarters was empty as it should have been at this hour. The ops center was also empty, but I did see that any alarm would be forwarded to Ratchet's quarters. I walked into the elevator, but not to go down to the safe. It wouldn't help my processor ache if I shot missiles at tanks. I hit the button to go up and waited for the elevator to arrive at the level of the helicopter pad.

Thankfully it didn't take long, and I walked over to the lone tree on the far side of the mountain and leaned against it. The tree groaned in protest since I was now taller and heavier than it, but it didn't break. I realized at that moment I could not longer feel Solus. The bond between us still existed but it was completely blocked. Deciding that it was a matter I could take up with her another time I closed my optics and hoped the crisp night air would help clear my processor. My CPU had other ideas. I kept thinking about why I couldn't accept Megatronus as I did with Solus.

The only thing that made any sense to me was that my father was still alive when I died in my original reality and my human mother had been dead for eleven years. There also was the issue why I even had a processor ache. I couldn't remember the knowledge the Primes gave me. When I was in the pocket universe I knew what it was, but now I only knew that I received knowledge from the Primes. I suspected they were responsible for my sudden memory lose. I have remembered everything since I was four, so for some reason the Primes erased the knowledge. I didn't know Optimus was up here until he was standing next to me. "You should be in your quarters recharging" he said, his tone saying he was curious at my presence here.

"Processor-ache...among other things" I said, opening my optics to look at my leader. "Among other things?" he asked me. I told him everything that happened while I was in my brief recharge. I explained my arrival in the desert, my talk with Sam Witwicky, and then I explained to him who Sam Witwicky was. What really shocked him was that I meet Megatronus Prime, and found out that he and The Fallen are separate beings. I had just finished explaining that the Primes had given me some kind of knowledge but I couldn't remember what it was.

"Why do you believe the Primes gave you knowledge when you can not recall it?" Optimus asked, not understanding what I meant. "I only know that the way it was given was very painful, hence my processor-ache. It was a series of visions. I know that much, but beyond that... nothing... it's as if someone erased it from my memory banks" I said, not knowing if this knowledge I received was even important.

"I do not know why the Primes would erase your memory about this knowledge, but there must be a good reason. And it's a reason I believe will not be revealed to you until the time is right" Optimus said easily, having sensed my frustration. "You still have training in three breems, get back to your quarters soon Zechariah." He started walking back toward the elevator. "Shadowstreaker" I said, correcting my name. Optimus stopped walking and turned to me "You've chosen a name then?" I nodded at his question.

"And your alt modes?" he asked. I thought for a micro-klick "I've decided on my jet-form, an F-22 Raptor. Since I'm not limited by human technology, with a few slight modifications I could cruise at mach 5.2, 6.8 if I pushed myself" I said, having already done a number of simulations with different jet fighters. "Have you not decided on a ground form?" Optimus was back to standing next to me. "No, but I have it down to two possibilities, modified of course- A Conquest Knight XV and a MRAP Cougar HE. Sorry, I couldn't find anything more subtle. Since I'm a triple-changer, my alt modes have to be as close in size as possible" I leaned my helm back against the tree and closed my optics.

"I understand Shadowstreaker. After your training we will see that you get your alt modes" Optimus said. This time I let him walk to the elevator. A breem later my processor-ache finally went away, and I returned to my quarters to get what recharge I could before training.

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><p><strong>The Fallen and Megatronus Prime are separate beings. The Fallen is the evil mech he was when featured in G1 and ROTF. Megatronus is a true Prime and technically ZechariahShadowstreaker's sire. About Zechariah's new name, if someone has already used that name in a fic, I'm not copying you, I just like the name. I found it interesting that The Allspark is only mentioned on a regular basis in the Bay Films and Transformers Prime, so I came up with an explanation for why that is. I bet some of you are like "Mach 5.2! there's no way he could be that fast!" Here's my reasoning. In Transformers Prime, Starscream flew to Skyquake's grave in a very short amount of time and he only used the Decepticon ground bridge to return to the Nemesis. So Cybertronians must be able to fly at hyper-sonic speeds. At least that's what I think. **

**SparkMated, is essentially being married, but it's more complicated than that. The Sparkmated Cybertronians share memories with their bonded, feel each other's emotions and take away the pain of their Sparkmate on a far higher level than with a parental bond. These two Cybertronians can communicate with their Sparkmate without speaking out loud or with a comm-link at any distance. Unlike other bonds among Cybertronians, the bond between Sparkmates can only be blocked, never broken. The only exception to this is when one of the two is offlined.**

**I love any and all feedback, especially constructive criticism. Thank you for reading and I'll see you soon.**

**This chapters credit song "Red - Break Me Down"  
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	9. Antarctica Sucks

** This is my longest update by quite a bit, around 7k words. You've probably noticed that each chapter has it's own name now, something I should have done awhile ago.  
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** Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro, not me. I only own my OC.  
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><p><strong>May 26, 2012 5:18 A.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

Three jours and a mega-cycle - that was how long it had been since I came to be in this reality, but it felt much longer. The Decepticons have been completely inactive since Optimus and Bumblebee offlined Skyquake.

My training was finally completed a few solar-cycles ago. I was now a full-fledged member of the Autobots. The last stage of training was simply learning how to drive and fly in my alt modes. I found driving my ground mode easier than flying in jet form, but the flying was getting easier. I had the slowest ground-based alt form of all the Autobots.

That really couldn't be helped since an MRAP Cougar HE was designed to move at slower speeds. I still could top out at one hundred and fifty mph. I picked the MRAP because I could deploy my Plasma Chaingun and a few smaller weapons while still in vehicle form, which is something I wouldn't have been able to do if I picked the Knight XV. On a off-note, if I had still been human this would be my eighteenth birthday. Cybertronians called birthdays creation days, but I think birthday sounded better.

A few klicks ago, Optimus commed me in my quarters and said to report to the ops center, which I was about to do. Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Ratchet and Optimus were all looking at the main screen as I walked into the ops center. Optimus turned toward me when he noticed my presence.

"Shadowstreaker, Ratchet has detected an anomaly on the continent of Antarctica. I want you, Bulkhead and Bumblebee to investigate this. Bulkhead will lead the mission" he said, in his usual neutral tone.

"Antarctica huh? That should be interesting, it's winter down there" I said with crossed servos, dreading that my first official mission was going to be on the freezing continent.

_"Can we get this over with?"_ Bumblebee asked, sounding as if he was also dreading this mission. Bulkhead sighed, "Yeah, let's get going." He grabbed a scanner from Ratchet's workstation and turned toward the now activated ground bridge. The three of us were stopped by Ratchet before we could take three steps.

"Remember, no going into vehicle form while in the Antarctic. Transforming would drop your energy levels at much higher rates" he said gruffly, as if he was annoyed that he had to say this. I learned when Ratchet was actually mad and when he was concerned. Right now he was making sure we didn't become icicles. We acknowledged Ratchet's words and stepped through the ground bridge.

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><p>The Antarctic was obviously unbelievably cold, and very dark too. My optics adjusted for the low amount of light, and the Antarctic went from night to day. Snow was blowing at a good rate but thankfully it wasn't a whiteout. We had good visibility for about a half-kilometer."Now which way do we go?" I heard Bulkhead say to himself.<p>

"You're the one with the scanner Bulkhead, you tell us" I said, not turning to look at the Wrecker.

Bulkhead held the scanner in front of his optics. "The scanner's reading says the anomaly is that way, south" he said, pointing a digit to his right. We started in the direction Bulkhead pointed.

Ten klicks past before one of us spoke. _"Am I the only one that's freezing his aft off?"_ Bumblebee asked, shivering slightly. "You're not alone in that Bee. This place sucks the life out of you" Bulkhead said.

"I'm not freezing my aft off yet, but we've only just arrived here, so..." a blaster shot hit the ground next to Bumblebee, cutting me off.

_"Sniper! Get down!"_ Bumblebee yelled, as he took cover behind an icy boulder. Bulkhead and I found cover next to a large snow bank about twenty meters from Bumblebee.

"Hey! You alright?" I called over to Bee. _"Yeah I'm good, you see where that came from?"_ Bumblebee answered my question, and asked Bulkhead one his of own."I didn't see the shot but I saw a ridge not far from here. My guess is that's where he is" was Bulkhead's reply.

Looking to my right I saw that the snow bank we were hiding behind was the begining of a small canyon that continued in the direction of the sniper.

"Hey Bulkhead, you think we could use this to flank him?" I asked, moving so he could see what I did. He nodded his helm, "This could work, Bee! Keep his attention on you" he said toward the scout.

_"Got it, and good hunting."_ Bumblebee ran out from the cover of the boulder, and dodged another shot from the sniper. "Let's move." Bulkhead stayed close to the snow bank as we started running toward the sniper.

Three more shots sounded in a row and Bumblebee comm-linked us. _"There are at least two snipers, one with a semi-automatic and the other with a single shot rifle."_ He closed the link before we responded.

Bulkhead and I slowed as one of the snipers fired again, this time they sounded as if they were right above us. Bulkhead put a digit to his lips and pointed up, his meaning was clear - 'Climb.' I started climbing as quietly as I could, with Bulkhead to the left and below me. I reached the top of the canyon and cautiously looked over the ledge.

Four Decepticon drones were on the top of the ridge Bulkhead talked about. Two of them seemed to be the spotters and the other two held large scoped rifles. Bulkhead stopped next to me, and he too looked over the ledge.

After a micro-klick he looked at me and pointed two digits toward me, then at himself, 'Two for you, and two for me.' I gave a slight nod and crept over the ledge. I saw Bulkhead doing the same out of the corner of my optic.

We deployed our weapons at the same time. Bulkhead went with his clubs, and I used my Scatter-Blaster and Plasma Chaingun. The cons turned their helms at the sound of our deployed weapons.

The spotters tried to grab some kind of pistol off the ground next to them. One got his helm blown apart by my Scatter-Blaster, and the other was knocked offline by Bulkhead's club.

One of the snipers got up and leapt at Bulkhead. That fight didn't last long as Bulkhead quickly caved in the con's helm. The other sniper tried to shoot me with his rifle but I riddled his chassis with my chaingun.

It was over in less than three micro-klicks, but I found myself looking at the sniper's offlined chassis far longer. Did he volunteer to become a Decepticon? Or was he forced to become one? Did he wish the war on Cybertron never happened? Or did he wish that it never ended? I asked myself these questions until Bulkhead brought me out of my thoughts.

"He would have done the same to you kid" I glanced at Bulkhead. He was standing to my left and giving me a knowing look. "I know... but it doesn't make it any easier" I said in a quiet voice. Bulkhead nodded "I know it may sound cold, but you get used to it. Tell Bee we dealt with the snipers." He walked back to the ledge after that. I opened a comm-link to Bumblbee, _"The snipers are offline Bee."_ I closed the link, and with a last look at the sniper's chassis, followed Bulkhead down the ledge. 'Happy birthday to me.'

We didn't encounter any more Decepticons after that. Those four were probably here looking for energon and we intercepted them as we seached for the anomaly. It had been forty klicks since we left base, and we had spent the last ten walking in a circle.

"Come on Bulkhead, there's nothing here. Let's call for a bridge and get back to base." Bumblebee obviously was fed up with the Antarctic. "I know it's here somewhere, the scanner's reading is off the meter" Bulkhead said, tapping the scanner like that was the problem. Bulkhead's words sent a small wave of pain through my CPU and I saw a vision of him and Bee standing at the bottom of a hill. I grabbed my helm with a servo and winced.

I noticed that we were standing on the top of a steep hill the whole time. In another vision, this one a bit longer, I saw Bulkhead and Bumblebee standing over a dark object in a frozen lake. Seeing a lake at the bottom. I slid down the hill. I deployed one of my swords and used it as a rudder to control my speed.

_"Come on, back me up on this Shadow... Shadowstreaker?"_ I heard Bee ask from the top of the hill. "I'm down here! And I think I found it!" I yelled, crouching next the dark object in the lake. Soon, I heard both of them sliding down the hill. "Watch out for that last part it's..." *CRASH* "...Tricky" I finished saying with a wince and turned around.

The sight that greeted my vision had me struggling not to laugh, which was more than I could say about Bumblebee. The scout was rolling on the ground laughing so hard that he couldn't even speak. Bulkhead was the reason for Bee's laughter. The Wrecker had tripped on the last part of the hill, and now was laying faceplate down on the ice. A spider web of cracks was visible in the ice around his chassis.

"Uhhh... just help me up" Bulkhead said weakly. I grabbed his shoulder-joints and pulled him up off the ice. "Now, where is it?" the Wrecker asked me, giving the still-laughing Bumblebee a sour look as he got to his pedes. "It's over here, in the frozen lake." I pointed at the object under the ice. Bulkhead looked back to the top of the hill. "How the pit did you see that?" he asked me with raised optic ridges.

"I didn't" was my simple response. I was thinking about the visit I had with the Primes three jours ago. I hadn't talked to them since then but I knew they gave me some kind of knowledge, was this part of it? "You think it has something to do with that knowledge you said the Primes gave you?" Bulkhead asked, having reached the same conclusion. "Likely, but it's not important right now" I said as Bumblebee finally joined us. _"Um... how are we going to get this back to base?"_ Bumblebee said, looking down at the dark object. He raised a good point, how were we going to this to base?

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><p>We had spent another ten klicks figuring that out. In the end, Bulkhead just had me shoot the middle of the frozen lake with my Shock Cannon to crack the ice. We called for a ground bridge immediately after we got the pod-like object out of the lake.<p>

The moment Bulkhead, Bumblebee and I rolled the pod into a storage hanger to thaw out, Ratchet pulled us to his med-bay for what he called 'Standard Defrosting Procedure.' Bulkhead was fed up after five klicks.

"I told you, doc, we're fine." The Wrecker pulled out a medical cable Ratchet hooked up to his chestplates as he tried to stand. The medic made him sit back down before he could fully stand. "The way to be certain you're fine, Bulkhead, is to endure standard defrosting procedure. You know prolonged exposure to sub-zero conditions can cause permanent system damage" Ratchet said, reattaching the cable.

I rolled my optics at Ratchet's words but didn't say anything. Optimus and Arcee entered the med bay and walked toward us. "Ratchet, have you learned anything more about our Antarctic find?" Optimus asked. The medic shook his helm, "No, and we won't know anything more until it's thawed."

Optimus looked at the image of the pod on the main screen for a moment. "Bulkhead, Bumblebee, bring our human charges to base" he said, much to the relief of Bulkhead and Bee. He then turned to me.

"Shadowstreaker, you will accompany Arcee and I in the Antarctic for clues about our find" I nodded and started getting up, but Ratchet grabbed my shoulder-joint. "Ohhh no you don't, Optimus, as your chief medical officer I can't allow Shadowstreaker to go back to out there until he finishes the defrosting procedure," Ratchet said to Optimus in a 'Don't make me pull medical rank on you' voice. Optimus nodded in understanding and I gave a slight sigh.

It was another twenty klicks before the defrosting procedure was complete, and Ratchet activated the ground bridge. The medic turned from his workstation "Only search until your sensors sound, remember..." Ratchet held a data pad toward us "...Once your core temperature drops into the blue zone..." He pressed a button on the data pad and a beeping sound came from Optimus and Arcee's shoulder-joints and my wings. "...System failures aren't likely, they're imminent" Ratchet concluded, and put the data pad back on his workstation. I heard the sound of Bulkhead and Bumblebee's engines from the entrance tunnel. They both stopped next to Ratchet and Miko, Jack and Raf climbed out.

"Miss us doc bot!" Miko asked jokingly. Ratchet sighed, "Can't they just go to school?" He looked at Optimus with a tinge of hope. Miko gave him an annoyed look, "It's Saturday. Duh, we have the whole weekend off to spend with you."

This was basically what would happen every Saturday. Ratchet would ask why they couldn't be in school, and then Miko would tease Ratchet. He would then grumble and stand at his workstation. This would repeat the following weekend.

Jack walked by Ratchet and gave the medic a slight wave "I wasn't expecting a car-pool, what gives Arcee?" he asked his guardian. "Sorry, it's my turn for exploration duty Jack" Arcee gave him an apologic shrug. "Can I come? I heard the weather's going to be great today." Jack wouldn't have asked that if he knew where we were going. "We're exploring Antarctica, Jack" I said matter of factly. Jack widened his eyes "I think I'll stay here where it's warm." He walked over to where Miko was booting up the Xbox on the catwalk.

Raf, having heard what I said, walked over. "You're going to Antarctica? I've always wanted to see snow!" In the time I knew Raf I had rarely seen him so excited about something. Optimus sighed lightly, "I would invite you to join Rafael, but the conditions are much too extreme even for Autobots" he said, gently putting down Raf's hopes. Raf looked saddened by this, but nodded none-the-less. "I... understand." He forced a smile. Optimus, Arcee and I turned to walk into the ground bridge, but the Prime looked back at Raf, stopping us.

"But, I will bring you back a snow ball" he said, smiling slightly at Raf. "And I'll tell you what it's like living around snow most of your life." My offer wasn't much but it might help. Raf seemed overjoyed by this "That would be awesome." His smile was genuine now. Optimus led Arcee and I through the ground bridge after that. As we left I couldn't shake a feeling of dread I suddenly had about the pod.

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><p>When we past through the ground bridge, I immediately noticed the wind had picked up since I was here with Bulkhead and Bumblebee. My optics adjusted to the darkness and I saw that visibility was down to about fifty meters.<p>

"How are we going to find anything in this?" Arcee asked, looking at the rather bleak conditions.

"Luck?" I answered, giving her a small shrug."Autobots, split up, we will cover more ground" Optimus said to Arcee and I. We all picked different directions and walked. This was Antarctica after all, it was the closest thing to a wasteland I had seen. I found nothing but snow and rocks in the direction I picked.

It was over a breem before Optimus opened a comm-link to Arcee and I. "Arcee, Shadowstreaker, status updates." Arcee responded first, "Nothing unusual on my end, and my sensor just went off. Guess we should call for a pick-up before things get chilly" she reported evenly.

"I didn't find anything either, my sensor still hasn't gone off, but if Arcee's sensor went off then it's only a matter of time." I looked up at the sky nervously. It was starting to snow, a rarity in Antarctica, and my visibilty was down to twenty meters. The already bad weather was about to become a blizzard. "Understood" was all Optimus said about our updates, and then he opened our comm-link to base.

"Optimus to base. The core temperature readings on Arcee and I have reached the blue zone. We are requesting a ground bridge." Static was the only response from base. "Well, that's not good" Arcee commented. She didn't seem nervous about our lack of a response. "Autobots, regroup at my position." Optimus sent his coordinates through the comm-link. He was only about three kilometers from my own position. I closed my end of the comm-link and walked in his direction.

Arcee and Optimus were standing next to each other by the time I arrived. "We need to seek shelter, the longer we stay out in the open, the lower our core temperatures fall." Optimus said, the moment I joined him and Arcee. "I saw a snow bank large enough for all of us to fit inside if we tunneled into it" I said, pointing in the direction I just walked from. Optimus nodded "Then lead the way, Shadowstreaker."

The weather became even worse as we started toward the snow bank, visibilty was no more than five meters with all the falling snow and wind. It was a true blizzard now. Our progress had slowed to a crawl as Arcee said jokingly, "Are we sure a nice long drive wouldn't help? I hear Miami's beautiful this time of year!" I didn't miss a beat, "I've been to Miami, I didn't like it that much. I recommend Hawaii" I said over my shoulder-joint. Optimus being the ever serious one, didn't pay attention to our conversation, he seemed to be trying to contact base again.

The snow bank I saw had only been about a half-kilometer away, but it took us a breem to finally get to it in the blizzard, and another half-breem before our shelter was large enough for the three of us.

My sensor finally went off after I sat down next to the entrance of our shelter. "It's about time that thing went off, I was begining to think you were made out of ice" Arcee said, as she sat in the back of the shelter, which was only about ten meters from where I sat. "Well, now that it has, let's hope Ratchet sends us a ground bridge soon" I said. Our shelter became quiet as I watched the snow go by. Fifteen klicks later I turned away from looking at the blizzard, "I wonder what Jim and David would say about this situation" I mused out loud. Arcee looked up at me. "Who?" she asked, looking slightly confused.

"My twin older brothers from my original reality" I answered. She nodded. I told the Autobots I had brothers I just hadn't said their names. "Now you have me thinking about what my sisters would say about this" Arcee said, getting a far away look in her optics. I rose an optic ridge. "You have sisters?" I asked, having never heard this until now. "Yeah, Chromia and Elita-One," she smiled as she said her sisters names, likely thinking about some happy memory.

Out of the corner of my optic, I saw Optimus stiffen ever so slightly when Arcee meantioned Elita-One, and from the look Arcee gave me she saw it as well. 'Note to self. Talk to Optimus about Elita-One.' Arcee went back to talking about her sisters.

"Elita is the oldest, Chromia is younger than her by three vorns, and I'm the youngest by ten vorns. Our creators offlined when I was still a youngling, so they basically raised me. When the war started Elita tried to keep me out of it, even though she and Chromia had already joined the Autobots she didn't want me involved in the fighting. It was when the Decepticons started attacking unarmed bots that she finally let me join up, Chromia was the one who taught me how to fight. She's slightly obsessed with big guns. Even before she meet her sparkmate Ironhide..." I interrupted her then.

"Wait... Ironhide is your sister's sparkmate?" I asked with raised optic ridges. "Yeah, you should have seen Elita's reaction. I've never seen her optics that size since" she laughed slightly and went silent with a small smile on her faceplate.

I looked to Optimus, "So tell me about Elita-One Optimus." He immediately stiffened. "Elita-One is Arcee's sister, she will know more about her than I do" Optimus said in an unusually guarded voice. I looked at Arcee, who was now paying attention to our conversation. She smiled but didn't say anything.

"I've already talked with Arcee about her sisters, but you seemed to have something to say about Elita-One so I asked you" I gave Optimus an innocent look and waited expectantly. Optimus seemed to find the snow on the ground very interesting as he spoke. "Well, um... Elita-One is... a very dedicated Autobot... and she commands great respect from her fellow soldiers. She was a good friend... back on Cybertron..." he rubbed the back of his neck.

Hold on a klick, is THE Optimus Prime, the mech who could stare down an army and win... flustered? I looked at Arcee, "Arcee, I do believe Optimus Prime has a crush on your sister" I said, stuggling to keep myself from laughing at how awkward Optimus was when talking about Elita-One.

"It certainly looks that way doesn't it?" I could have sworn I heard Optimus' cooling fans kick in at Arcee's words. That would be quite the feat for a Cybertronian to basically blush in Antarctica. Optimus' tone was neutral but slightly uncertain when he said "I am a Prime, and I can not cloud my judgment by having a relationship with a soldier under my command." It seemed as if he was trying to convince himself.

"Don't even try that with me Optimus, both my carrier and my sire are Primes" I said, knowing I just played a trump card. Optimus shook his helm and said almost to himself "I can not cloud my judgment." I glanced at Arcee and she shrugged, and again our shelter became quiet.

We sat in silence for a breem. Like the last time I was the one to break it. "Worst... Birthday... Ever" I hit my helm against the side of the shelter and sighed. "It's your creation day?" Arcee asked, sounding weak from our continued stay in Antarctica. "Yeah... and looks like it's my last one too" I gave a grim laugh and shook my helm.

Arcee had her own grim laugh, "You know, I always thought I'd offline fighting on Cybertron not slowly freezing on a world in a completely different galaxy." She was struggling to keep her optics open. Over the wind I heard the sound of a ground bridge activating. I climbed outside. The blizzard had died down enough that I could see a ground bridge about a hundred meters away. That made me hope my CPU wasn't tricking me.

"Optimus" I said tiredly, starting to feel the weather's affects. The Prime slowly got up from his sitting position and looked at the ground bridge. He widened his optics and shook Arcee's shoulder-joint. "Arcee, Ratchet has sent us a ground bridge. We need to move" he said, and climbed out of the shelter. Arcee didn't say anything, but took my offered servo to help her out of the shelter.

The ground bridge was only about a hundred meters away, but in our condition that might as well have been the other side of the world. We moved painfully slow and I knew it, but there was nothing we could do except walk.

When we were about a quarter of way to the ground bridge, I saw Bulkhead pass through it. He seemed to be limping, and the three of us stopped and looked at him curiously. Bulkhead raised a servo to his mouth and yelled "Down! Get down!" he then fell on to his chestplates and a horde of... things flew over him. I couldn't focus enough to see them clearly, but I got the same feeling of dread I had back at base when I looked at the flying mass.

None of us were in any condition to fight, all I could do was narrow my optics and stand straighter as the horde approached. My feeling of dread left me as the horde reached us and countless little frozen metal spheres bounced off our armor. Arcee, Optimus and I looked at each other confused, then at Bulkhead.

"I'd invite you in... but the place is a mess" Bulkhead said, as he picked himself up off the ground. "It's got to be better than this place" Arcee said, as I helped her walk toward the ground bridge. Bulkhead put one of Optimus' servos over his shoulder-joints to support the Prime and followed us.

"Wait" Optimus said, making Arcee and I share a curious look and turn toward Bulkhead and Optimus. While still being supported my Bulkhead, Optimus reached down and picked up a servo full of snow. "Keeping his promise to Raf" I said quietly, Arcee nodded and we past through the ground bridge.

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><p>Thousands more of those metal spheres littered the floor back at base. I looked up and saw Ratchet and Bumblebee slowly getting up from the floor. They had wounds scattered across their frames that looked like bite marks.<p>

"What the hell happened while we were gone?" I asked, following Ratchet and Bumblebee as they started walking toward the med-bay. p_"Scraplets... hidden in the pod... took out our power... we need to get to the med-bay" _Bumblebee said painfully, he had a far worse limp than Bulkhead and Ratchet was helping him walk.

"So these little things are the reason we were stuck out there?" I stomped on a group of the already offlined scraplets. "Yeah, and as it turns out they eat anything made out of metal" Miko said, as if nothing bad had happened at all.

The med-bay doors opened. It seemed to be untouched compared to the rest of the base. Ratchet set Bumblebee down on the medical berth farthest from the doors, and I set Arcee down on the one right next to the door. I couldn't walk anymore, and I sat on the floor next to the medical berth Arcee was occupying. "I officially hate Antarctica" I said, closing my optics and sighing. I heard rather than saw Arcee raise a servo. "I second that" she said, and then let her servo drop back to the berth. Bulkhead walked into the med-bay while still supporting Optimus.

Since the med-bay only had two berths Optimus sat down against the wall next to Ratchet. Before resting against the wall, Optimus set the massive ball of snow he picked up next to Raf. The look of pure joy that Raf still has on his face made me smile. Jack left the med-bay for a klick, then he returned carrying two laptops. Ratchet linked the computers into the medical equipment, and since he was injured, Raf, Miko and Jack would have to treat our wounds. After Ratchet instructed the three on how to hook up the defrosting cables to Optimus, Arcee and me, they started work on Bulkhead, Bumblebee and Ratchet himself.

"Report on bio-circuitry status" Ratchet said, after Raf hooked him up to the Cybertronian equivalent of an IV. "All levels are rising" Jack said to the medic over his shoulder. Ratchet nodded "Excellent, now Rafael, keep a close watch on Bumblebee's electro-pulse monitor. Miko, make sure Bulkhead's energon line doesn't reopen." Raf and Miko didn't say anything and went to follow Ratchet's instructions. Optimus and Ratchet started a conversation I couldn't hear, as Arcee spoke from the medical berth."I guess this isn't your last creation day," she sounded more like her usual self now that the defrosting agent was doing it's magic.

"Yeah, and on an interesting note, you and I have discovered that Optimus Prime becomes flustered while talking about your sister" I said, laughing quietly as I recalled how awkward Optimus was when I asked him about Elita-One.

"AHHHHHHHH!" Miko screamed in a loud enough voice that I covered my audio-receptor. "What is it? Is it a scraplet?" Jack asked, looking around urgently and holding a small fire extinguisher in his left hand and a crowbar in his left. Raf also was looking around the med-bay as he held a piece of pipe. "SPIDER! Is it on me!" Miko started running around the med-bay, jumping in the air and randomly grabbing parts of her back like there were things crawling all over her.

Jack dropped both his fire extinguisher and crowbar. He then preceeded to face palm. "Did she just scream like a little girl?" Bulkhead asked, watching as Miko started a very impressive string of curses in both Japanese and English. I looked down at the floor and saw a spider no more than an inch long crawling on the floor.

"Oh for crying out loud" I said, with a shake of my helm. I deployed my Scatter-Blaster and cocked it for no other reason that it sounded cool, and brought the barrel to within a foot of the spider. The Scatter-Blaster was much louder in the confined space of the med-bay than anywhere else I had shot it, and I basically vaporized part of the floor.

"It's dead Miko" I said dryly, returning my servo to normal. It was then that I noticed everyone save Miko, since she still hadn't acknowledged my words, was looking at me in shock. "What?" I asked casually, giving them all a shrug. Miko peaked around from her hiding spot next to Bumblebee's medical berth. "Are you sure it's dead?" she asked, sounding truly terrified of the spider. I gave her a disbelieving look and said sarcastically. "No, I only winged him, it's trying to crawl out of the small crater my Scatter-Blaster just made in the floor."

"I have arachnophobia, okay?" Miko was obviously annoyed as I had just made fun of her. She was also slightly embarrassed at how she handled the situation judging by the faint shade of pink in her cheeks. "And I have getting-shot-at-itis." A wrench hit me in the side of the helm as I said my smart remark. "AND I HAVE A HOLE IN MY FLOOR!"

Ratchet then cursed me out while somehow still being able to tell me that I needed to fix the floor. I had to wait another breem before the third defrosting process for Arcee, Optimus and I ended. I then walked to storage and gathered the spare metal I needed to fix the floor. That took me about ten klicks. Ratchet, Bumblebee and Bulkhead were confined to the med-bay for the rest of the cycle and since Miko and Raf didn't want to leave their guardians it was just Optimus, Arcee, Jack and I in the ops center.

Jack was playing Dark Souls on the Xbox and failing miserably. Arcee was watching him play, and I would occasionally hear her make fun of how bad he was at staying alive. To be fair, though, the game was cheating. Currently, I was leaning against the wall near the base's entrance thinking about the events of the cycle, now that I finally had the time.

No matter what I did, I couldn't stop blaming myself for being responsible for the scraplets getting into base. I was the one who discovered the pod after all. If I hadn't received visions of the pod we wouldn't have found it and the scraplets would still be in Antarctica. Was that all my knowledge from the Primes do - lead us to long forgotten traps that would almost offline us? Another thing that was bothering me was that Decepticon sniper. I know he would have offlined me in a sparkbeat, but I still couldn't get over the fact I ended his life. That wasn't something any amount of training could have prepared me for. Optimus walked over and leaned against the wall next to me.

After a short silence he said quietly "Bulkhead informed me that you encountered a Decepticon patrol before you brought the pod to base." My left optic twitched slightly, he just mentioned both the things bothering me in the same sentence. "Yeah" I said simply, staring at a spot on the floor blankly. "If you and Bulkhead not done what you did, they would have offlined all three of you" Optimus had taken an understanding tone.

"I know, Bulkhead said that... does it really get easier?" I asked, looking over at the Prime. "We are Autobots, we only take life when we have no other choice" Optimus said, it sounded like that came out of a recruiters brochure. I blinked but didn't stop looking at him, and he sighed. "When you have seen the horrors of what the Decepticons do to completely harmless bots with your own optics..." he paused and got a brief far away look in his optics. "...You stop feeling guilt when offlining a Decepticon" he said, with a saddened look on his faceplate.

I really didn't know what to say to that. We stood in silence until I brought up the other issue that was bothering me a few klicks later. "You know it's my fault the scraplets got into base" I said, recalling the visions I had before finding the pod. Optimus looked over at me with curiosity painted on his faceplate. "Just before I discovered the pod, I saw visions of where the pod was located..." Optimus held up a servo.

"Bulkhead also informed me of this. You believe that this is the knowledge the Primes gave you?" he asked, and I nodded. "What were these visions that you had? How many did you receive?" he was back to his neutral tone.

"I received two, the first one was of Bulkhead and Bumblebee standing at the bottom of a hill, and the second was of them looking at a dark object, the pod, in a frozen lake. I saw that the three of us had been standing on a hill with a frozen lake at the bottom of it, and I found the pod there, so it's my fault the scraplets got into base. What is really bothering me, is that if i have more visions in the future they could just lead us to something much worse than a scarplet trap" I finished, looking around the base at all the offlined scraplets.

"You can not blame yourself for finding the pod, Shadowstreaker. None of us knew what was waiting to be released inside. If your visions are the knowledge that the Primes gave you then they are for a purpose. I do not believe your own carrier and sire would help give you visions that would lead you to offlining." Optimus made a valid point, I was Solus' and if you want to be technical, Megatronus' creation. They wanted to help increase my chances of staying online, not offline. "Okay, you're probably right" I said, once again looking at the floor. Optimus started walking away. "Optimus," the Prime stopped and glanced back at me. "Thanks for listening." He nodded and went to the med-bay to check on the others.

A few klicks later I walked over to Jack and Arcee at the Xbox. "Finally!" Jack said, relief and frustration in his voice. "How many tries was that?" he didn't mean for his question to be answered and Arcee knew that, but she did anyway. "Twenty-seven... twenty-eight if you count when you walked off the top of the wall before you got stuck on that part" she said matter of factly, making Jack sigh. "What part were you stuck on?" I asked, watching as Jack moved his character along a massive castle wall.

"This boss called a Taurus Demon, the thing just wouldn't die" Jack said, not looking away from the screen. Jack moved character down some stairs, then stopped next to a long bridge. "That's definitely not a trap" Arcee said sarcastically. Jack shook his head as he ran at some enemies "They wouldn't give me another boss to fight this so..." fire suddenly consumed the bridge and when the flames cleared, a dragon perched itself on the other side of the bridge.

Jack didn't say anything as the words "You Died" came up on the screen. He didn't move his character when the game spawned him at the bridge's beginning. He just sat on the couch and stared blankly at the TV. Finally, he calmly stood from the couch, turned off the Xbox, tossed the controller over his shoulder and walked away. Arcee and I looked at each other, then back to where Jack was walking toward the elevator.

"I believe that is the 'I'm too pissed to even speak' reaction." Arcee nodded at my words, Jack then yelled a few curses from near the elevator. "Or not" she said, as Jack's speech became a series of jumbled up words that I couldn't understand. "I think I'll go shoot something down in the safe" I said, starting to walk away after Jack hadn't stopped yelling for a klick. "I'm going to see if Optimus needs help in the med-bay." Arcee followed me until the med-bay, and we went our separate ways.

As I rode the bot-sized elevator down the safe, I said to myself, "I got attacked by a Decepticon patrol, found a scarplet trap in a frozen lake, and got myself trapped along side Arcee and Optimus in Antarctica. I found out that Optimus Prime has a crush on Arcee's sister, and that Miko is terrified of spiders, blew a hole in the med-bay's floor, and got hit the helm by a wrench Ratchet threw at me. All in all it was a very memorable birthday." I leaned against the side of the elevator and closed my optics waiting to get down to the safe.

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><p><strong>If you've never played <span>Dark Souls<span> what you need to know is that the game cheats. I changed where the Autobots went to get the pod, from the Arctic, to Antarctica. The difference is in the month of May the Arctic would be in summer and Antarctica would be in winter. Okay, so this chapter isn't very different from the episode but that will in change in future chapters. I'm going to keep the basic plot line from the show in the story, but I'm going to add a number of my own things. I also will be modifying certain episode plot lines at varying degrees. Some episodes will be only slightly modified from the show, and others will be modified to the point that it will be almost unrecognizable. On the subject of reviews, I understand that not everyone reviews, but is it so much to ask for one or two people to review per chapter? I'm a first time author, I have simple needs. I'm not trying to sound like I'm demanding that people review, I'm just saying that it's a bit frustrating to spend a good amount of your free time writing a five or six thousand word chapter and no one says 'Hey I think you wrote this part well' or 'Maybe you could change this.' As I said I'm a first time author & I would be perfectly happy if one or two people reviewed, everyone else would be a bonus. I'm open to any ideas or suggestions you may have to make this story better. Okay I'm done talking about that, thank you for reading and I'll see you soon.**

**This chapters credit song "Audiomachine - Spirit Within"  
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	10. New Arrival

** What is it with me and writing long chapters? I just broke my own personal record for longest chapter... which I only reset last chapter. Is that a good thing for writing this many words? Or is it a bad thing because now anyone who wants to read this whole chapter will be scrolling down a lot? Anyway, I just passed the one-thousand hits mark on only this story just in the month of January, and a little over two thousand hits since I started it in November. I don't know if that's a lot for veteran writers, but it's a lot to me.**

** Sailor Shinzo - And he will know what happens... sometimes. The first story I ever read on this site was a self-insert in another franchise. In it, that main character knew everything there was to know about the franchise he was sucked into. So every time there was a major event that happened in the franchise, he changed it for the better. The main character -in a very short time- became god-like in power. That is what I'm trying to avoid in this story. Shadowstreaker will at times know almost exactly what's going to happen, and other times he will have -like in last chapter- no clue as to what will happen. Other times he won't even have visions about the future or he will be in a different place when the events occur. I hope that answers your question, and thank you for reviewing.**

** DeathByLackOfMusic - Thank you, both for thinking that my story is interesting, and for thinking my continuing the story is commendable. I'm having fun writing it, so why stop?**

** Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro not me, I only own my OC.  
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><p><strong>May 27, 2012 4:23 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

The cycle following our stay in Antarctica looked like it was going to end quietly. We hadn't detected any Decepticon activity, or any anomalies, and I found nothing unusual on my air-patrol. Optimus and Ratchet were over by the medic's workstation, going through the computer systems to check for any additional damage the scarplets caused. Bulkhead and Miko were fixing some pipes the Wrecker had shot when the scarplets were loose.

While Arcee, Bumblebee and I were watching Raf and Jack race each other on Forza 4, they were both using the same Lexus LFA, to make the race fair. _"Come on, cut him off Raf, he's right behind you,"_ Bumblebee encouraged the younger boy. Arcee, in turn was helping Jack, while I was a neutral party. "Okay, Raf is slightly slower in taking this turn than you are, make your move then" Arcee said, keeping her focus on the screen.

Jack and Raf got to the turn and tried doing what their guardians suggested -but since Jack couldn't understand what Bumblebee said- neither one of them would end up finishing. As Raf moved to block off Jack from passing, Jack sped up to overtake Raf and they collided. Raf's car flipped and landed upside down, and Jack's car was totaled from crashing into Raf. "Ahhh man, want to restart?" Raf asked Jack. "Yeah, and let's try not to..." the power for the TV and Xbox suddenly cut off, stopping Jack's response.

"I apologize, it seems I accidentally cut the power cord" Ratchet's voice carried over from his workstation, the apology he gave sounded far from sincere. There was a rapid beeping from the medic's workstation before anyone else spoke.

With a curious look on his faceplate, Ratchet started typing at the computer. Jack and Raf moved along the catwalk to where they could see the main screen, while we gathered around Ratchet and waited for the medic to speak. After a klick Ratchet turned from his workstation.

"Optimus, we are receiving a signal from a restricted channel. It seems to be coming from a personal starship which is now passing earth's moon." Ratchet turned back to the computer for a moment and then reported, "I've identified its transponder as an Autobot."

Jack seemed taken-aback by this, "Wait, so there are other Autobots out in the galaxy?" he asked, as he and Raf stood on the catwalk directly in front of Ratchet's workstation.

Arcee answered his question. "When Cybertron was evacuated at the end of the war, well over five-hundred Autobots traveled to this galaxy alone. It's likely a number of Autobots are still hiding in the stars of this galaxy, but for every Autobot that came here, ten Decepticons followed, and they have been known for baiting traps with false beacons" she concluded with a wary look at the screen. "One Autobot for every ten Decepticons huh? I like our odds" I said, and folded my servos behind my backplates.

Optimus walked closer to the workstation and in the native language of Cybertronians, opened a channel to the ship. **"Unknown vessel, this is Autobot outpos****t** **Omaga-1. Identify yourself"** he said in a no-nonsense tone.

I heard Miko ask quietly "What did he say?" I turned, and for the first time noticed that she and Bulkhead had joined us. Bulkhead looked as if he was going to answer before a slightly staticy voice spoke through the computer. **"I've had better welcomes from Decepticon** **Destroyers,"** a mech's voice said with good-natured humor.

Bulkhead moved forward fast enough for Miko to almost fall off his shoulder-joint and spoke to the mech on the ship. **"Wheeljack! Is that you? What are you doing out** **here?"** I don't think Bulkhead even noticed that he almost knocked Bumblebee to the floor when he walked over to the workstation.

"Speak a language humans can understand!" Miko yelled, frustrated that she was being left out of the conversation. **"What the pit kind of language was that?"** the mech on the ship asked. He hadn't downloaded any of the languages of earth yet, so to him Miko's speech was nothing but gibberish.

I offered a servo to Miko, and as she climbed on she asked. "What's going on? What language is that?" she looked over at Bulkhead, confused as to why he didn't answer her questions when she asked him earlier.

"That is the native language of Cybertron. The bot on the ship is named Wheeljack and Bulkhead apparently knows him" I said, setting Miko on my own shoulder-joint. "Can you translate for us? I might be able to understand Bumblebee but this is way over my head" Raf said, as he and Jack moved toward me on the catwalk. I nodded and listened to the conversation.

**"... The rock we're on is crawling with cons. When are you going to get here and help us crush a few?"** I translated Bulkhead's words for Jack, Miko and Raf. **"The** **number-two engine on my ship is only at thirty-seven percent power, so I'll be there in about a breem or maybe two."** Wheeljack responded to Bulkhead's inquiry and again I translated.

"Wait, there's another Autobot coming here? Awesome!" Miko probably would have jumped in the air in excitement if she wasn't on my shoulder-joint. Optimus switched to English, "I only know Wheeljack through reputation, is his voice-print authentic?" he asked Bulkhead.

The Wrecker nodded enthusiastically, "He is one-thousand percent the real deal, Optimus." The Prime switched back to the Cybertronian language, **"We will provide you landing coordinates,** **Wheeljack. Safe travels."** He motioned for Ratchet to close the channel.

Bulkhead got in a few last words before the channel was closed.** "See you soon buddy, I'll make sure you get a proper welcome."** Ratchet closed the channel right after that.

"So who's the boyfriend?" Arcee asked teasingly. The Wrecker laughed as I set Miko back on his shoulder-joint. "Jackie's a Wrecker. He and I go way back. We knew each other before we started training to get into the Wrecker unit" Bulkhead said fondly.

Miko asked him a flurry of questions, and she and Bulkhead walked away. "What do we have, an hour or two before Wheeljack lands? Want to go for a drive, Arcee?" Jack asked his guardian and she nodded. After they drove out of the entrance tunnel, Raf asked Bumblebee to go on a drive and they left, leaving me to wonder what I'll do to pass the time before Wheeljack arrived.

* * *

><p>I decided to just get a cube of energon at my quarters and look around the internet for anything interesting. I entered my quarters and took note of how little I had added to the near spartan room. I had added a few shelves along both the right and left walls. Those were mostly empty except for a few miscellaneous items - an offlined scraplet I was keeping as a souvenir from last cycle, some data pads with information varying from Cybertronian martial-arts and fighting techniques, and historical documents and literature.<p>

I also added a workbench to clean my weapons and armor at the end of the cycle. You would think that we Cybertronians with all our hyper-advanced technology could keep dirt off ourselves, but you'd be wrong. While we only needed to remove built up dirt and grim from our frames once every three or four solar-cycles. We usually cleaned our armor and protoform at the end of each cycle. It is a very long process to accomplish manually. I, apparently, am not the first to ask Ratchet to build a washrack, unfortunately according to the medic we lack the material.

I sat at my desk and put a cube under the energon dispenser built into the wall. After my cube was full I accessed the internet. While taking a sip from my cube, my CPU was instantly browsing through thousands of websites at a speed human computers may never match. If I wanted to I could have cracked into several hundred encrypted emails in an astro-klick, but I wasn't interested in that.

Let's see, a few people are trying to start a conspiracy about the existence of driverless cars created by the U.S government, I'll pay a bit more attention to that. I found dozens of other sites saying similar things. While whoever set up these conspiracy websites had been very careful not to leave any trace for human computers to pick up, a Cybertronian CPU wasn't a human computer.

I took another sip from my cube and tracked the creators of the websites, I found all of them were made by a group of teenagers in several states and they were currently in video chat with each other. The video chat they were in was highly encrypted. They had also set up a program that would alert them if someone tried to hack into the chat. Paranoid much? I easily hacked into the chat without setting off the alarm, and accessed their web-cams. There were five teenagers. Each had multiple computers in their rooms, and they were all talking about the websites.

"What I'm saying is that we need to bring the truth to light. The government has the technology to build cars that don't need drivers. If they were mass-produced they could bring a stop to all traffic accidents. We need to know why they're keeping this from the public." The one that had spoken first was the walking stereotype of a computer geek. He had a voice that was high and nasally, very greasy dark brown hair, a number of pimples on his face and chin, and was constantly pushing a pair of glasses far too large for him back on his nose. Another of the teenagers spoke.

"Tim, you're suggesting we try and hack into the Pentagon. Are you crazy?" This second guy was the only one of the five that looked like he went outside on a regular basis. The one named Tim mocked the second one by making his voice even higher and nasally as he said.

"Tim, you're suggesting we hack the Pentagon. Are you crazy, blah blah blah. Don't mock me Andrew" Tim tried to make the name of the second teen sound like an insult and failed miserably.

Andrew rolled his eyes "I'm not mocking you, I'm only saying that this plan is insane. I don't know why you've developed these conspiracies about the government, but I'm not going to help you try and hack into the damn Pentagon!" Andrew said this with finality. They apparently had this conversation before.

The other three teenagers looked bored as Tim started yelling at Andrew. They kept going back and forth, and finally one of them stopped it. "Enough! Andrew, we need to slave all our computers together to form a makeshift super-computer, and we didn't invite you here to debate. So, unless you want the police to know you stole the credit card information of several hundred people last month, you are going to help us out." At that moment I decided I didn't like this guy.

As Tim and Andrew had been talking, I had been going through all their computers. Four out of the five of them had hacked into the financial information of a bank and not only stole credit card information, but deleted the accounts of some members leaving over a thousand people completely broke.

They also gave some customers a massive amount of debt. Because of them one hundred and twenty-seven homes went into foreclosure. To add on to this, they hacked into Andrew's computers and used them to make it look like he was the one who hacked into the bank, and while they hid the data trail from authorities they each had a fake email to send the FBI that would make Andrew the villain.

They had this email key-bound, so if they typed in a certain word the email would automatically be sent to the FBI. I had already disabled their key-binds while I was preparing a surprise for these hackers. Andrew was the only one out of the five that wasn't hacking government data bases or financial information. I found that he only came into contact with these four hackers a month ago, so it was fair to assume that not only was Andrew being blackmailed for something he didn't do, Tim likely wasn't the real name of the teenager with glasses.

Andrew sighed, "You know that you're all bastards don't you?" Tim put on what I can only assume he believed was an intimating look, but I think a dead cat looked more intimating than he did.

"You should take that back. It would be a shame if I accidentally gave an anonymous tip to the FBI and told them where to find the hacker responsible for sending over two hundred people out on the street." Tim and the others laughed at that.

I'm going to enjoy making these four pieces of slag cry like babies. The bank they hacked wasn't even the first time they ruined lives, and from what I found they were doing things like that for fun.

They were four very messed up teenagers. The hackers started slaving their computers together, and when that was done they tried to access a government server. This was when I unleashed my surprise.

"No! No! No! No! No! something's uploading a virus into my system!" The one I knew as Tim said, and tried to give me a virus as well. To say that virus was obliterated would be an understatement. "We prepared for this, just upload that counter-virus and you should be good," one the the teenagers who hadn't spoken until now said."I did! And it's not working!" Tim was panicked now. You could hear it in his voice.

I took another sip from my cube and smiled slightly. "Okay, everyone get on this virus. We can't do anything unless it's gone," the one who stopped the yelling between Andrew and Tim said. It seemed he was the leader.

I then took over the computers of the over hackers. "I've got the virus now!... Same here!... What is this thing!" were the next words from the other three hackers a micro-klick after I took over their systems. It was when I started uploading their hard drives to the FBI that they really panicked.

"What the hell!... Counter viruses! Counter viruses!... Pull the plug!" By the time the leader ran off camera, I had finished the upload to the FBI, and given them the teenager's addresses as a bonus.

On all of their computers I put the words 'You Lose' on the screens. All of them except Andrew went pale as a ghost. I overloaded their computers. It wasn't enough to delete the data the FBI would need to recover, but enough to make it impossible to use them again.

Andrew looked slightly terrified and confused as to what just happened. I didn't take over his computers completely so he was still online. I put the words 'Your Welcome' on his screen just before I cut the connection and restarted his computers.

'Ahhh, sweet, sweet justice' I thought with a smile as I set my finished cube back on my desk. I stood and walked out of my quarters, hopefully Wheeljack was about to land.

The others had already returned to the ops center when I arrived. Jack, Raf and Miko were standing on the catwalk. Ratchet was adjusting the ground bridge controls while everyone else was gathered around the main screen. "I hope didn't miss anything" I said, as I walked toward the others.

Arcee shook her helm, "No, we're just waiting for Wheeljack to..." she was cut off by Ratchet's workstation, as it beeped rapidly as it had earlier. "The pit?" I heard Ratchet ask himself and walk past us to the computer.

"Well slag, Optimus! We have two Cybertronians on approach for an emergency crash landing!" Ratchet said, while typing commands into the computer. The main screen had been tracking Wheeljack's ship before Ratchet went over to the computer. Now it was following two red circles that were approaching Earth from opposite sides.

"On their current path, one will crash-land in the Amazon Rainforest, and the other will impact in Siberia" Ratchet said, missing the confused looks on the faces of Raf, Jack and Miko. "So you don't even need a ship to travel between planets?" Raf asked the medic, who sighed at the question. "No, Cybertronians do not need ships for planetary travel but it's very dangerous. An Autobot or Decepticon wouldn't do so unless they had no other choice" Ratchet said, not looking away from the screen. "Can you find out if they're Autobots or Decepticons?" I asked.

Ratchet shook his helm, "We have no way of knowing until they land." The workstation sounded an alarm "Oh for Primus' sake! What now!" the medic yelled as the main screen shifted focus back to Wheeljack's ship. A dozen red dots were approaching Wheeljack quickly. "That's not good" I commented, just before Optimus turned to Ratchet and asked.

"Ratchet, how much time do we have before the other two crash-land?" Ratchet looked at a smaller screen on his workstation, "None, they are already in Earth's atmosphere." Optimus looked at the rest of us, "Autobots, we need to determine if those crash-landing are friends or enemies. Bulkhead, Bumblebee, you will go and aid Wheeljack against the Decepticons. Arcee, Shadowstreaker, ground bridge to the Amazon and locate the new arrival. Hopefully they will be an Autobot. Ratchet and I will go to Siberia to find the other new arrival. Ratchet, send Arcee and Shadowstreaker first."

Optimus -as he always did- gave his orders with a calm and steady voice. Ratchet went over to the ground bridge controls and entered the proper coordinates. When he pulled the lever to activate the bridge it sparked and he hit it with a servo. "Damned scraplets, now is not the time to make repairs" Ratchet said and hit the controls again.

This time it powered up properly and the ground bridge activated. Arcee changed into her motorcycle form, while I changed into my F-22 form and we both passed through the bridge into the Amazon.

* * *

><p>The moment we cleared the ground bridge I pulled up to avoid the trees in our immediate path. Once I had climbed to about a thousand feet, I leveled out and circled the area.<p>

Arcee comm-linked me a klick later, _"These trees are too thick for me to travel by alt mode. Try and find the landing zone for whoever was crashing and give me a direction to move in."_

_"I'm already circling the area. I'll let you know when I find the landing zone"_ I replied, and closed the channel. Two klicks later, I flew over a large area where the ground was smoldering and the trees were burned to a charcoal black.

Near the edge of the rainforest I saw at least fifteen Decpeticons shooting into the tree line, and every so often I saw that a bot was returning fire. I opened a comm-link to Arcee, _"I found the landing zone. It looks as if whoever crash-landed is an Autobot, but the Decepticons have found the place as well"_ I said, as I circled over the area again.

_"Give me a direction to run then"_ she said almost immediately after I finished speaking. _"It's about two kilometers south of where we ground-bridged here."_ I was sure the Decepticons knew I was here by now, as I saw one of the smaller ones look up me. I wasn't concerned that they would identify me as an Autobot. The only time any Decepticons had seen me was last cycle, and those four were offline. So all that Decepticon saw was a heavily modified F-22 Raptor flying over him, and was probably asking himself why a human jet-fighter was out here.

Arcee asked through the comm-link,_ "You said the Decepticons are already there, how many do you see?"_ I counted the cons that were shooting into the tree line, and what was now three Decepticons looking up at me. There also were two cons that were not shooting but holding shields in their left servos and hammers in their right. 'Brutes, wonderful' I thought.

_"I count seventeen, including a pair of Brutes"_ I said to Arcee. _"Brutes, please tell me your joking"_ she said with a sigh. _"I wish I was, the Brutes are absorbing_ _any return fire from the Autobot while the other cons are staying behind them. Have any ideas for how we play this?"_ I asked, changing my flight path toward Arcee.

She didn't say anything for a klick, likely forming a plan. Arcee was apparently at the edge of the forest as she said, _"They don't have any seekers in their_ _ranks. I'll attack first to get their attention away from the other Autobot. You fly in low and hit 'em with everything you can. They won't have air-support so you'll be free to rain down as much pain as you please. Now wait until I signal you to attack"_ she closed the channel.

I flew down to treetop level and hovered in place, which was one of the abilities I added with my F-22 modifications. At my right wing root, my Ion Displacer was inside a gun port with a door covering it while not in use so I didn't compromise any of my stealth capabilities. My paint wasn't just for show, it made me invisible to any type of radar including Decepticon scanners.

One of the largest modifications I made to my F-22 was that I had a second gun port at my left wing root as well, this one housed my Shock Cannon. While I hovered, I opened the doors to both my gun ports and missile bays. Arcee commed me a few micro-klicks later. _"Hit them now"_ she said quickly and closed the channel.

I stopped hovering, and accelerated to just under the speed of sound. I cleared the trees and saw that Arcee had already offlined two of the cons, but was currently pinned by the volume of fire they were sending her way.

A few Decepticons glanced up at me as I flew toward them. For some it was the last thing they ever saw. I fired a two micro-klick burst from my Ion Displacer, launched three missiles, added a shot from my Nucleon for good measure, flew over them and started around for another pass.

The burst from the Ion Displacer caught one of the cons in the chestplates, and he was offline before what remained of his chassis hit the ground. I meant for the missiles to keep suppressing some of their fire, but I hit one of the Brutes in the servo making him take cover. The other missiles hit the ground around the Decepticons without causing much damage. The shot from my Nucleon did the most damage. The shot hit a Decepticon directly which vaporized him. The others around him were sent flying, but weren't seriously damaged.

As I flew toward the cons again, I detected that someone was trying to get a lock on me. The Decepticons had anti-air missiles. I didn't know if I could be locked onto with missiles in my alt form but I wasn't going to take the chance.

I transformed into my true form -and because I hadn't slowed before changing- slid a good distance before coming to a stop about a hundred meters from the Decepticons. They immediately opened fire on me with various weapons. A few were using the standard servo-blasters, and some were using Neutron Assault Rifles. My armor was of exceedingly high quality, and double layered, so I wasn't worried about those weapons. I was worried about the con pointing a missile launcher at me though.

Before I could move to cover, the Decepticon fired a missile and it hit me in the chestplates. I was sent flying into a river bed that was filled with ash. "Oh that hurt" I said to myself painfully. I looked down at where the missile hit. My armor held up fine but it still hurt... a lot.

I deployed both my Ion Displacer and the Nucleon from my backplates. 'My turn' I thought and walked out of the river bed. For a moment the Decepticon holding the missile launcher looked shocked I wasn't offline, but he shook his helm and aimed at me again. A shot from my Nucleon got rid of the threat he posed. The other Decepticons opened fire on me again and I returned the favor with my Ion Displacer.

Four cons fell offline, two shredded in pieces from my rotary cannon, one shot from the direction I knew Arcee was in, and one from where the other Autobot was located. One of the Brutes turned toward Arcee, which gave me a clear shot with my Nucleon, I fired and hit him squarely. He fell to the ground offline. The second Brute rushed me and I saw that this was the one I hit with the missile. I knew this fight was going to be fought in close quarters, so I returned my heavy weapons to my backplates and deployed my swords.

The Brute swung his hammer in a downward ark. I dodged to the left just as the hammer hit the ground. "Stay still you piece of slag!" the Decepticon bellowed, and swung at me again. I barely avoided his attack and countered by hitting his right servo with my sword, the one I hit with a missile. I just grazed him, but from the look on his faceplate he was in great pain.

The Brute retaliated by hitting me with his shield, dazing me for a moment. While I was dazed he landed a solid hit with his hammer, which sent me flying back about forty meters. Despite the fact that my entire chassis was throbbing in pain, I quickly got back on my pedes. The Brute was already charging me. Hoping to surprise him I charged right back. His faceplate contorted in a shocked expression. Not many bots were brave enough -or stupid enough- to charge a Brute and he lowered the hammer in his right servo slightly.

I took advantage of this, and severed the lower part of his servo. As he let out a scream and ran past me, I stabbed a sword through his backplates which came out his chestplates. I deployed my Scatter-Blaster and fired a double tap into his backplates, at least that way wasn't as painful as offlining from leaking energon. As his chassis fell to the ground I sighed.

Like with the sniper last cycle, I found myself wondering what the Decepticons I just offlined thought of the war. I shook my helm. It didn't matter what they thought, the war on Cybertron had been over for centi-vorns and they were still attacking any Autobot they saw on sight. To them the war won't end until every Autobot is offlined, and they were ruling all other species. I didn't hear any more sounds of the battle. Arcee and the other Autobot must have offlined what remained of them. I looked up to see Arcee and a femme I had never seen before were walking toward me.

"Sorry about not helping out, the other cons had us pinned. You okay?" Arcee asked, as she and the other femme stopped next to me. "Don't worry about it, and to answer your question... somewhat. I feel like... well a Brute hit me, but it's nothing permanent I'll be fine" I answered, and looked at the other femme.

She was green and white in color, and lacked the wing-like appendages that Arcee had on her backplates. Her height was about the same as Arcee's. "Shadowstreaker, this is Moonracer. She was one of our top snipers and medics back on Cybertron" Arcee said, introducing the femme.

"You must be the seeker that flew over" Moonracer stated in English. She must have downloaded Earth's languages. "Triple-changer actually" I said, and gestured to the wheels on my pedes. She rose an optic ridge slightly at that, but didn't say anything about it. Arcee opened a channel to base.

_"Arcee to base, Shadowstreaker and I found who was crash-landing. She's an Autobot, we are requesting a ground bridge."_ Ratchet responded to Arcee's request, he and Optimus must have already returned from Siberia. _"Sending ground bridge now"_ he said, and closed the channel as the bridge opened in front of us. We returned to base.

* * *

><p>We apparently were the last to arrive back at base. Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Raf and Miko were talking to a white, red and green mech that was slightly shorter than Bulkhead. I assumed he was Wheeljack. While Optimus and Jack were talking with a black and white mech with single shot missile launchers on his shoulder-joints, and a yellow visor covering his optics. There was a strange sound comming from the ground bridge as it shut down.<p>

I heard Ratchet grumble something and look at us. He looked at Moonracer and widened his optics ever so slightly. "Moonracer," he said with a surprised tone. The green and white femme had been looking around the ops center when Ratchet said her name. "Ratchet," her voice also carried a surprised tone. "So um... how are you?" Ratchet asked. He hid the awkwardness I heard in his voice very well, but it was there.

I glanced between the two medics with a curious look on my faceplate. Obviously they knew each other, and judging by how much Ratchet was affected by seeing Moonracer they knew each other very well. 'Hmmm... interesting' I thought and walked over to where Optimus and the black and white mech were standing.

The Prime looked at me as I approached, and turned to the other mech. "Prowl, this is our heavy weapons specialist and currently the only Autobot triple-changer, Shadowstreaker" he said, and looked at where I was hit by the missile. "The Decepticons were already at the site of Moonracer's arrival" Optimus said, more as a statement than a question.

"Yes, seventeen of them, including a pair of Brutes" I said, folding my servos behind my backplates. I knew this was going to be more of a report than an introducion. Optimus needed to know about our fight with the Decepticons anyway, so I told him what happened while Arcee and I were in the Amazon. Prowl made a comment when I finished speaking.

"Fighting a Brute alone and in close quarters combat was a reckless move" he said, in a voice lacking almost all emotion. "Believe me, it wasn't my first choice" I said, giving who I found was once Optimus' second-in-command a neutral look.

"Shadowstreaker, come say hello" Bulkhead called from where he and Miko were talking to the mech I believed was Wheeljack. "Is it alright if I give you my full report later?" I asked Optimus, he shook his helm.

"You have already given me a report, you do not need to give another. Besides, I have a drive to take" he said, and started toward the base entrance. He transformed into his alt form before I could ask why he was going for a drive. Prowl walked off towards to Ractchet and Moonracer, and Bulkhead called me over again. With a last look at where Optimus drove off, I headed in the direction of Bulkhead and Wheeljack.

My CPU decided I needed to have a few visions while I was walking over. In the visions I saw Starscream speaking with Soundwave on the bridge of the Nemesis, then Soundwave hooked a cable to a Decepticon covered in shadow.

Then I saw Wheeljack suspended in a cell. Finally, I saw Miko being held in Wheeljack's servo, as he slowly backed up toward the activated ground bridge. The visions ended, and I found that I had grabbed the side of my helm with a servo.

"Hey, you alright?" Bulkhead asked, as I lowered my servo. "Yeah, just a processor ache" I lied, and finished walking over to them. I didn't know if the vision I saw was true, but if it was, the Decepticons were holding Wheeljack captive, and the mech in our base was an imposter. If he was an imposter, I couldn't let the mech know I suspected him, so I put on the best poker-face I could.

"Wheeljack, allow me to introduce you to Shadowstreaker. Give this kid enough time and he'll make a good Wrecker himself" Bulkhead said, he seemed to be completely serious. "No I wouldn't" I said dismissively. The others knew I hated praise directed at me and he was probably saying that just to irritate me. "I wouldn't be to sure of that. Bulkhead told me you beat Bumblebee, Ratchet and him in a sparing match all at the same time" Wheeljack said. He had a very faint look of held-back viciousness in his optic.

I knew at that moment my vision was true, and that this mech was an imposter of Wheeljack. I kept my poker-face "I got lucky" I said neutrally. Wheeljack's imposter rose an optic ridge "He is the opposite of the twins" he said, and gave what I knew was a fake laugh. "Who?" I asked Bulkhead. Arcee must have heard what the fake Wheeljack said, because she was the one who answered my question.

"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, they think their Primus' gift to the universe. They are always hitting on femmes and almost always getting rejected. They arrogantly proclaim themselves to be the best warriors in the Autobot ranks. To add on to that list they are pranksters who's specialty is repainting bots while they're in recharge" she said, keeping an angry look on her faceplate, and an angry tone in her voice the entire time she was talking. "They're prank-loving warrior jocks essentially" Jack observed, when his guardian finished talking. "Surprisingly not far off Jack," Arcee said with a frustrated sigh.

I didn't notice that Miko had left to plug her guitar into the speakers until she started playing. "Hey, Shadowstreaker," fake Wheeljack said after Miko started playing. "Want to join us in some lobbing?" Bulkhead finished fake Wheeljack's question, while throwing a ball made out of rocks and wrapped in thin metal between his servos. "No thanks" I said, I didn't know what lobbing was but I needed time to think about how to expose the imposter.

The actual Wrecker and fake Wrecker shrugged "Suit yourself." They started tossing the ball between the two of them, taking a step back with each toss. Moonracer and Ratchet were working on the ground bridge controls near the workstation. I didn't see where Prowl went but I guessed he was exploring the base. Bumblebee and Raf were watching Miko play her guitar, while Arcee was leaning against the wall below the catwalk, and Jack was sitting on top of the wall next to her.

"Sooo... what's that about?" Jack asked Arcee, nodding at fake Wheeljack and Bulkhead as they threw the ball between them. "That's lobbing. It was one of the most popular pass-times back on Cybertron, especially among the warrior class" Arcee said and rolled her optics. She apparently didn't care very much for lobbing.

Jack just now noticed that Optimus and Prowl were no longer in the ops center. "Where's Prowl and Optimus?" he asked Arcee, and looked around the ops center. "I don't know where Prowl is, but I know that Optimus went for a drive for some reason" I said, watching as Bulkhead threw the ball at fake Wheeljack hard enough to knock him back a few steps.

"Why'd Optimus go for a drive?" Jack asked confused. "Because Primes don't party" Arcee said in answer to his question. 'Tell that to my creators' I thought, as one of Bulkhead's throws went high, and fake Wheeljack tried jumping up to catch it. The ball bounced off his servos and hit off the wall high enough for me to see the support beams well above the ops center.

That started an idea forming in my CPU. If fake Wheeljack stood near the ground bridge with Miko in his servo and I was up on the support beams, I could jump down and stop them from leaving. The question was how was I going to get up there without alerting fake Wheeljack? I could only think of one possibility. Ratchet said earlier that the part of the roof that doubled as a helicopter pad would be open for a few breems because he was trying to fix some damage the scraplets caused.

"I'm going out on air-patrol" I lied and walked toward the bot-sized elevator. _"Why?"_ Bumblebee asked with a confused look on his faceplate. "I'm bored" I lied again. My vision hadn't said whether or not if Prowl or Moonracer had been captured as well. With Moonracer so close by I couldn't take the chance of her being an imposter as well, and tipping fake Wheeljack off.

I hit the button to go up and waited to arrive next to the helicopter pad. I realized that if fake Wheeljack heard the elevator he could use it to get out of the base, and that could only mean bad things. What is most likely the only reason we don't have the entire Decepticon forces banging down our door was because the shielding inside the base blocked all unauthorized communications.

When the elevator stopped its ascent, I turned toward the controls and sighed. 'Sorry about this Ratchet' I thought and punched the control panel to keep fake Wheeljack inside the base and comm-linked Ratchet's workstation. "Hey Ratchet? I think the scraplets might have gotten into the elevator controls" I said, while walking toward the open roof of the base. "What! The elevator was one of the first things we checked, there wasn't any scraplet damage" Ratchet said, sounding far more annoyed and angry than usual.

'Yep he'll offline me for breaking the control panel' was what I was thinking as I replied. "Don't know what to tell you Ratch, as soon as I got up here the control panel started sparking and stopped working" I said, backing up slightly from the open roof so I didn't have a chance of being heard in the ops center. "Ehhh... I'll go up there next cycle and get it fixed" Ratchet said with a sigh and closed the channel. I looked down at the numerous support beams that led straight down to the ops center, and started what was going to have to be a long and silent climb downward.

The climb wasn't as bad as I feared. There were enough support beams for me to get down to the ops center without being seen. Now, I was half sitting and half standing on two support beams that had very little light near them at about two hundred feet above the ops center. If I jumped down I would land directly in front of the ground bridge.

From my vantage point, I could see that Bulkhead seemed to be telling a story of some kind. I could have listened in, but I was focused on fake Wheeljack. Whenever Bulkhead tried to get him to tell a part of his story it looked like he would stutter something. Perhaps Bulkhead would find out that this wasn't the real Wheeljack before I needed to use the plan I had made.

Fake Wheeljack suddenly jumped up and grabbed Miko with his left servo and formed a blaster with his right and pointed it at the girl. 'Or not' I thought and watched warily as Wheeljack made Ratchet activate the ground bridge. Prowl heard the commotion, entered the ops center, and when he saw what was happening he aimed both his missile launchers at fake Wheeljack and deployed a rifle-like blaster from his servo.

'Alright, so it doesn't seem like Prowl was replaced by another imposter, now what about Moonracer?' I looked to where the green and white femme was standing, she pointing what I recognized as an Energon Battle Pistol at fake Wheeljack. 'So Wheeljack was the only one replaced by an imposter, good' I thought, and as slowly and quietly as possible, I deployed my swords and waited for fake Wheeljack to get close enough for me to jump down.

He took three steps back in the direction of the ground brdge. I decided that was close enough and let myself fall toward the imposter. In the same moment I hit the floor, I severed both of his servos at the shoulder-joints.

Miko fell towards the floor while still in fake Wheeljack's detached servo, but Bulkhead dived forward and caught her and the separated limb. _"You said you were going on air-patrol"_ Bumblebee said to me with confusion in his voice.

"I lied, sorry about that" I said while returning my servos to normal. "When you grabbed your head, you were having one your vision things about the future weren't you?" Miko asked, then covered her mouth as fake Wheeljack looked at her.

"A triple-changer that sees future events, Lord Starscream will be interested to learn of this" he said, his voice was different from when I spoke with him last. Since his cover was blown this must be the imposter's real voice.

Fake Wheeljack made a break for the ground bridge, but unfortunately for him he ran straight into the actual Wheeljack who must have entered through the bridge as we were talking. The real Wheeljack quickly pulled a sword from his backplates, decapitated the imposter, put a cylinder-shaped object on the Decepticons offlined chassis, and threw him through the ground bridge in one smooth motion.

As the real Wheeljack returned the sword to his backplates then walked towards us. He said, "I'd close that bridge, it's going to get messy on the other side."

Once Ratchet deactivated the ground bridge he commed Optimus and told the Prime what happened. Optimus returned to base about ten klicks after Ratchet commed him. He and I began the long process of informing Moonracer and Prowl that I wasn't originally from this reality.

Prowl glitched. He apparently does that a lot when something he hears isn't logical. Moonracer was more interested in my story than shocked. She asked several questions about the Thirteen and the visions Miko had mentioned. I answered them to the best of my ability but I couldn't answer some of her questions because I didn't know the answers myself. Like I predicted, Ratchet was very angry at me for breaking the elevator controls, but when I offered to fix the damage he calmed down.

After I fixed the elevator, I spoke with the actual Wheeljack. He was pretty cool to hang out with, and between Bulkhead and him, they had enough war stories to satisfy even Miko's curiosity. So it was slightly disappointing to learn that Wheeljack planned to leave as soon as he fixed some damage the cons did to his ship. I found that out about a breem ago.

Right now I was in my quarters reattaching the first and second layers of my chestplate armor after I cleaned off the explosive residue from the missile. Miko insisted we give Wheeljack a going-away party, which was a little strange considering he just got here.

I was slow in joining them since I saw how the 'Party' we had earlier went. Miko played her guitar, Bulkhead and Wheeljack would be lobbing and that was about it. When I reattached the armor piece of the outer layer of my armor, it felt uncomfortable. 'Strange' I thought, and detached the armor again to search for the problem. A large and slightly burned branch fell from my armor when I detached it.

How it got between the inner and outer layers of my armor I have no idea, but it was the problem because when I reattached the armor it was no longer was uncomfortable. I reached down and picked up the branch that could only have been from the Amazon. 'Hmmm... maybe I should start a collection of souvenirs from missions' I thought and looked at the mostly empty shelves lining the walls. I walked over to where I set the offlined scraplet on the shelf and put the branch next to it. After that I left my quarters to join the others in the ops center.

* * *

><p><strong>So Prowl and Moonracer have joined up with Team Prime. I'm open to suggestions for their alt modes but it's not necessary. Unlike other chapters, I don't have much more to say. I hoped you enjoyed this chapter enough to leave a review, and thanks for reading, I'll see you soon. <strong>

**This chapter's credit song "Red - The Outside"**


	11. The Mine

**I don't have very much to say up here, but I want to thank Sailor Shinzo for reviewing again, and Crystal Prime for starting to beta-read this story. She caught a number of mistakes I made in this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro, not me. I only own my O.C  
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><p><strong>June 15, 2012 11:42 A.M<strong>

**Australian Outback**

More than two mega-cycles had passed since Wheeljack visited and Prowl and Moonracer permanently joined us on Earth. The Decepticons had been much more active since then. We've already had two skirmishes with them just this mega-cycle. Jack, Raf and Miko also were out of school for the summer and were spending more time at base than they had before.

About ten klicks ago, Ratchet and Moonracer detected an unusual energy reading in this area, so Optimus ordered Prowl and I to investigate the reading.

After Prowl and I cleared the ground bridge that had taken us to Australia, I asked, "Did Ratchet say where this reading was?"

Prowl looked at a data pad in his servo. "Yes, the reading originated two kilometers to the west of our location, but it has since disappeared from our sensors," the stoic mech said, and sub-spaced the data pad. Prowl transformed into his alt mode, which was the law enforcement edition of a 2012 Dodge Charger, and started driving toward a ridge in direction we were already facing.

I soon followed in my MRAP alt mode. As we got closer to the ridge, it became apparent that heavy machinery was in use nearby. Prowl and I changed into our true forms and crept to the top of the ridge.

I immediately saw what was making the noise - Cybertronian mining equipment... with dozens of Decepticons guarding the equipment. Prowl and I were laying prone at the ridge of a Decepticon mine, and it was massive. It was at least a kilometer to the side of the mine opposite Prowl and I, and over twice as wide. Strangely, I didn't see any energon being moved in any part of the mine.

"They are not mining for energon, they are searching for artifacts," Prowl said, seeming to read my processor.

I gave the smaller mech a sideways glance, and looked back down at the Decepticons. There were far too many for just Prowl and I to fight. I counted no less than thirty, and most of them were carrying Neutron Assault Rifles or Scrapmakers, but I saw a few with EMP Shotguns.

"We need to call for reinforcements," I said, the black and white mech next to me nodded and opened a channel to base.

_"Prowl to base. Shadowstreaker and I have discovered a Decepticon mine. We are requesting reinforcements."_

Ratchet responded quickly, _"That's not going to be possible. As soon as the two of you left, Agent Fowler requested our help in transporting a prototype human energy source he believes the Decepticons are trying to steal,"_ he said, sounding a bit more angry than usual. _"Only Moonracer and I at base, and we are needed here..."_ Ratchet was cut off by Moonracer.

_ "Actually Raf could do my job. You are the only one truly needed at base right now. I could go help them out. I just need to grab my sniper rifle from my quarters,"_ she said with a casual tone.

I didn't hear if Ratchet said anything else, but a klick later Moonracer arrived through a ground bridge that opened near Prowl and I. She walked over and went prone on the ridge next to Prowl.

"So what's the plan?" she asked Prowl.

Before the black and white mech could respond, a Decepticon we failed to notice called out "Autobots!" and opened fire at the three of us. Prowl nonchalantly transformed his servo into a Photon Burst Rifle and shot the con between the optics. That was what started it, the other Decepticons opened fire at our position simultaneously.

One of the Decepticons had a missile launcher, and he sent a pair of missiles our way. Prowl and Moonracer got out of the way to avoid the missiles, but I wasn't fast enough.

Luckily, the cons aim was off, but unfortunately they hit the ridge beneath me, and the ground gave out under my pedes. I tumbled into the Decepticon mine, and landed on my wings painfully.

I bit back a yell and got behind a large boulder just before the cons shifted their fire toward me. As the shots from Decepticon weapons passed over and around my cover, I inspected the damage to my wings. The fall luckily hadn't broken my wings, but I couldn't move them, which meant I wouldn't be able to fly anytime soon.

Over the sounds of the Decepticon weapons, I heard the sharp crack of a sniper rifle, and saw the smoke trails of two missiles from the ridge. Prowl and Moonracer must be trying to thin their ranks.

A particularly brave Decepticon came around to my side of the boulder while aiming a servo-blaster at me. He didn't have time to shoot before I introduced his faceplate to my Chaingun. As the Con's chassis fell to the ground, Moonracer comm-linked me.

_ "I recommend getting out of there. We don't have the element of surprise anymore,"_ she said, and I heard another loud report of her sniper rifle from the ridge.

_"That's going to be a problem. I can't move my wings so I won't be able to fly out, and it doesn't look like the cons made any kind of ramp,"_ I said, and fired my Chaingun blindly around the boulder.

_"So you can't get out?"_ Moonracer asked, a hint of concern was creeping into her voice.

_"It appears to be that way,"_ I responded, and started running to get behind another boulder as the one I had been behind was crumbling from all the Decepticon fire.

While I was running between boulders, I deployed the missile launchers from my shoulder-joints and sent a pair of my own missiles in the direction of the Decepticons. One missed completely, but the other hit a con in the center of his chestplates, directly over his spark. He was offline by the time I got behind my new cover.

I tried speaking through the comm-link again._ "So do you have any..."_ that was as far as I got before the boulder I just took cover behind exploded. The resulting shockwave sent me into the wall of the mine, and my vision was momentarily out of focus.

I soon became aware of a searing pain in my left shoulder-joint. My optics refocused, and I looked up from where I was laying on the ground. The Decepticons had their own Nucleon Shock Cannon on a turret, and they were aiming it at me.

Before the Decepticon operating the turret had the chance to fire again, his helm was blown apart by Moonracer's sniper rifle, and three bursts from Prowl's rifle offlined another pair of cons. The Decepticons turned their attention to the ridge, which gave me an opportunity to stand up and take aim with my missiles again.

I had time to target five Decepticons and launch missiles at each of them before they realized their mistake, and looked back at me. Two were hit in the chestplates, one had both of his pedes blown off, and the other two instantly offlined from the missiles hitting their helms. I ignored the pain that flared up in my shoulder-joint as I deployed my own Shock Cannon, and took aim.

One of the few Decepticons carrying an EMP Shotgun shot my shoulder-joint. At the same time I fired at the group of Decepticons and my shot went wide. The con with the shotgun hit me again in the same shoulder-joint, I felt my left servo go limp and I dropped my Shock Cannon. As the Decepticon reloaded his shotgun, I deployed my Scatter-Blaster and sent three shots his way. He was offlined before he finished reloading.

I shot another Decepticon holding a Scrapmaker before a missile hit my right pede. I ground my denta's as I fell down to a kneeling position, and looked over at the con who shot me.

He was an unusual looking Decepticon. He was shorter than Bumblebee, but taller than Arcee, and was colored red with purple flames covering his chestplates, which was a very strange color scheme, if you asked me. He raised a small missile launcher toward me

"Say goodbye Autobot" he said in an arrogant tone, and fired a second missile at me.

This second missile hit me in the thickest part of my chestplate armor and caused no real damage. The Decepticon shot a third missile that hit me in my already-damaged shoulder-joint. I couldn't help but yell in pain as the missile hit. The con smiled at this, and sent the final missile my direction, only for it to miss completely. The Decepticon got an annoyed look on his faceplate and dropped the missile launcher.

"You're a lucky Autobot. You get to be personally offlined by the servos of... Dead End!" the con said, as if his name would strike terror into my spark.

"Arrogance gets you nowhere" I said calmly, and deployed my right missile launcher.

Dead End's optics widened just before two of my missiles hit him in the chestplates. What remained of his chassis was sent flying in several directions, but his pedes stayed in the same spot.

With a pained groan, I got back up on my own pedes. I was going to be limping from now on, and my right pede would require extensive repairs when we got back to base.

I shot two more cons with my Scatter-Blaster and missile launcher before deploying my Ion Displacer from my backplates. Since we had already thinned the Decepticon numbers to less than a dozen, it became a one-sided battle after that. Moonracer and Prowl continued to pick off Decepticons from the ridge, while I mowed down what was left my favorite weapon.

Once the last Decepticon fell, I returned the Ion Displacer to my backplates and started limping over to where I dropped my Shock Cannon. Before I got there, something mostly buried in the ground caught my optic.

I limped towards it to get a closer look. The object buried in the ground was white in color, but if I looked down at it from different angles it's color would change to a silver-blue. I turned toward Moonracer and Prowl as they slid down the side of mine and walked toward me. The green and white femme looked at my various injuries and grimaced.

"I didn't bring any medical supplies with me. So we need to get you back to base soon," she said, and looked at the object half buried in the ground.

Moonracer crouched, and dug the object out of the ground.

"What is that?" Prowl asked. His voice held genuine curiosity, which was a rare occurrence for the stoic mech. Moonracer picked the object up in her servos and scanned it.

"What ever it is, it's giving off unusual amounts of energy. In fact it's similar to the energy Ratchet and I..." Moonracer stopped in mid sentence and looked around the mine. "Hold this" she said to Prowl, and put the object in his servos.

Moonracer ran over to a piece of seemingly unimportant machinery.

"What are you doing?" I asked, as Moonracer started scanning whatever she was looking at. She ignored me and continued her scans, when she was finished she walked back over to Prowl and I.

"The cons had a cloaking field," the femme medic and sniper said, while pointing a digit over her shoulder-joint at what she just scanned. "Whatever what we just found is, the energy it's giving off must have caused a glitch in the cloaking field that allowed us to see through the field for a short time before the cons fixed the glitch." Moonracer took the object out of Prowl's servos, and looked at it with new found wonder.

"So then we should probably leave it here, if the energy that thing is giving off can drop a cloaking field. Then it could drop the shielding we have back at base," I said, Moonracer shock her helm in response.

"That is highly unlikely, whoever built that field only knew the basics of the technology. Either Ratchet or I could build a field twice as effective as that one from broken parts," Moonracer said, nodding in the direction of the cloaking device without looking away from what was in her servos.

My injured right pede decided that it wanted a break and gave out on me, I went back to half keeling on the ground. Prowl put my right servo over his shoulder-joints and helped me up.

"That's our cue to return to base," Moonracer said, and opened a channel to Ratchet._ "Moonracer to base, we need a bridge. And I'd prepare the med-bay Ratchet, Shadowstreaker is going to need repairs"_ she closed the channel before Ratchet could respond.

A ground bridge opened up near my Shock Cannon a few micro-klicks later. Moonracer picked up my Nucleon from the ground, and went through the ground bridge just before Prowl helped me through as well.

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><p>Only Jack, Miko and Raf were in the ops center when we stepped out of the ground bridge, Ratchet must be preparing the med-bay like Moonracer suggested. "What happened to you?" Miko asked me, from where she stood on the catwalk next to Jack.<p>

"I fell off a curb," I joked, as Ratchet returned to the ops center.

"Get him to the med-bay," he said to Prowl, and started a medical scan of me. "Your injuries are severe enough that you will need to be sedated for them to be fixed properly," Ratchet said with a huff when his scan was finished.

Once we got into the med-bay Prowl helped on to a medical berth. Ratchet transformed his servo into a syringe and inserted the needle into my neck, my world quickly faded to black.

It seemed as if Ratchet had just sedated me when I onlined again. The pain in my shoulder-joint and pede had been reduced to a dull throbbing, and I found that I could move my left servo. I opened my optics and tried to sit up, but Ratchet was suddenly at the side of the medical berth and gave me an irritated look.

"Do you know how hard it is to repair five broken gears in a shoulder-joint? Or two ruptured pistons in a pede?... No? Well let me tell you. It's very hard to repair and I'm not counting that I also had to fix your immobilized wings, your parts require several solar-cycles of rest to fully heal. So I suggest that you lay back down on that berth before I sedate you until your parts are fully healed" as if to make a point, Ratchet transformed his servo into a syringe.

I sighed and laid down again. "Good," Ratchet said, and walked over to the med-bay computer. Neither of us said anything for several klicks, Ratchet kept working on something on the computer, and I just laid on the medical berth quietly.

Finally I asked, "How long was I out?"

Ratchet looked over at me, "Just over seven breems," he said, and turned his attention back to the computer.

"Are the others back from helping Agent Fowler?" I asked when we went another few klicks without saying anything.

"Yes, they arrived about three breems ago," Ratchet said, with his focus completely on the computer.

The med-bay door opened, and I looked to see who was entering. It was Moonracer, she walked over to Ratchet and said. "I have the files you asked for," she held out a data pad in her servo.

"Thank you Moonracer," Ratchet said formally, and turned back to the computer as she left the med-bay. In their short exchange, I caught an unreadable look in both of their optics.

This was the third time I had seen that look in Ratchet's optics since Moonracer arrived on Earth. The first time was when Arcee and I brought her to base from the Amazon. The second time was when he was helping her pick out an alt mode, which was something she could have done herself, but specifically asked Ratchet for help, and the third time was just now.

I had a hunch that those two had either been more than friends at one point, or secretly wanted to be more than friends but didn't know if the other felt the same way. I decided to test my theory.

"You like her don't you Ratch?" I asked, and waited for his reaction.

Ratchet jumped slightly, and looked at me. "What is wrong with your CPU to make you think that?" he asked, his usual annoyance was mixed in with caution.

"Oh I don't know" I began. "You seemed really eager to help her find an alt mode."

"She needed help" Ratchet said, before I continued. "No she didn't, she is just as smart as you are, if not more so. She asked you for help, think about if would you have helped Prowl if he asked you to help him find an alt mode?" I asked, knowing I had him there.

"Well no, Prowl is perfectly capable of finding an alt mode on his..." Ratchet realized what I had said earlier about Moonracer's intelligence, and what he just said about Prowl being capable of finding his own alt mode.

He stopped talking for a moment. The white and red medic shook his helm, and threw a wrench at the wall above my medical berth. The wrench ricocheted off the wall and hit me between the optics. I shook my helm and watched as Ratchet stormed toward the med-bay doors while saying something about 'Pit spawned triple-changers' under his breath.

A klick after Ratchet left the med-bay, Optimus stepped through the open door holding the object we found at the Decepticon mine.

"Might I inquire as to what you said to Ratchet?" the Prime asked, as he walked toward my medical berth.

"I had a theory that he liked Moonracer. I tested my theory by asking him if he did, and he hit me with a wrench," I said, in a quick summary of our conversation and held up the wrench Ratchet threw at the wall.

Optimus sighed, "I would not push Ratchet anymore than you have. He is the one treating your injuries," the Prime said, in a cautionary but humorous tone. Optimus became more serious, and looked down at the object in his servos. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, his tone suggested that he already knew, but wanted to see if I knew as well.

"No, we just found it half buried in the ground. All I know about it is that Moonracer said it was giving off an unusual amount of energy" I said, and gave him a small shrug.

Optimus looked at me for a few more micro-klicks, then back at what was in his servos. "What you have found is an internal component of the Apex Armor, one of the many relics of the Thirteen that has been lost to time," Optimus said, holding the armor component in his servos with reverence.

I widened my optics and asked, "If that's an internal component, doesn't that mean the rest of the armor is at the mine?" Optimus shook his helm but didn't look up from the armor piece.

"While you were sedated, all but Ratchet accompanied me to search the Decepticon mine. All that was left to be found was a large amount of scrap metal that we have already brought back to base. It seems that we have the only piece of the Apex Armor on Earth." I sighed in relief at Optimus' words, I didn't know much about the Apex Armor but I knew enough that in the Decepticons possession it was bad news.

The Prime wasn't finished speaking, "Are you aware of who constructed the Apex Armor?" I didn't say anything at my leader's question and gave him a confused look. Optimus spoke again. "The Thirteen each were given different roles by Primus. Prima was the leader, Alpha Trion was the scholar, and your carrier was both the scientist and the inventor" Optimus said, as he shifted his gaze from the piece of armor to me.

Realization dawned on me, "Solus created the Apex Armor," I stated, looking at the armor in Optimus' servos with interest.

"Indeed, and since you are her heir this rightfully belongs to you," Optimus held the component out toward me.

"What? I can't accept that. It may be useful and all I'm going to do with that is put it on my shelf," I said in protest.

"Without the rest of the Apex Armor this component is useless," Optimus again held the piece of armor toward me. I sighed and grudgingly took it from Prime's servos. "I wish you a quick recovery Shadowstreaker," Optimus said, and left the med-bay.

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><p>I spent nearly a breem looking at the armor component, and wondered how long it had been since Solus created it. I was so engrossed with what was in my servos, that I didn't know Arcee was in the room.<p>

"You look like slag," she said, and appeared in the corner of my vision.

"Getting shot by a Nucleon and three missiles will do that to you," I said, and turned my attention to Arcee. "Optimus didn't give me a chance to ask, how did your mission in helping Fowler go?"

Arcee sighed at my question. "We eventually got the device Fowler wanted transported to our destination, but we were attacked by a group we didn't expect," she said and sighed again.

Puzzled, I asked "Decepticons?" I knew that probably wasn't who attacked them, since Ratchet said that Fowler was concerned the cons were after what he was transporting.

Arcee shook her helm, "Humans, they called themselves MECH. Fowler said the technology they were using was some theoretical prototypes he had seen blueprints for. He said he'll find out how they obtained the tech, and search around for anyone who's heard of this MECH group before," she said, and shook her helm again.

"Well this cycle is just getting better and better" I said sarcastically and covered my optics with a servo.

Arcee's next words made me perk up, "This might make you feel a bit better, Ratchet and Moonracer think that with all the scrap metal we gathered from the Decepticon mine will be enough to make washracks," she said with a smile.

I removed the servo from my optics, "You know that actually does make me feel a bit better. Just think, we won't have to clean our armor or protoforms manually, what a concept!" I said jokingly. Arcee laughed and smiled. When she did that, I felt my spark skip a beat... wait what?

"I'll see you later Shadowstreaker," Arcee said, still laughing lightly as she walked away.

I forced an even tone, "See you later Arcee," I said, just as she left the med-bay. She had been oblivious to my slightly panicked look, which I was grateful for.

'Okay, what just happened?' I asked myself. 'Your spark fluttered when Arcee laughed' even though I was answering myself, I felt compelled to argue against that. 'That can't be it, maybe the missile that hit my chestplates caused serious damage to my spark. I could be on the verge of offlining right now.' The logical part of me argued back, 'That's weak and you know it, admit it you've found her attractive since you became a Cybertronian.'

I rubbed the sides of my helm to soothe the quickly developing processor ache I was giving myself. It was true I had found Arcee to be very attractive since I became a Cybertronian. Drop dead gorgeous was closer description, everything down to her faceplate, her pedes, her backplates and her...

I Gibbs slapped myself in the back of the helm. 'Get your CPU out of the gutter!' I scolded myself. I had never been one to ogle or let my thoughts run wild as a human, and I wasn't going to start doing that as a Cybertronian. I respected Arcee way too much to do that.

I could hear Miko's voice saying "You have a crush on Arcee!" in the back of my CPU. No, I liked having her as a friend, nothing more. My spark skipping a beat must be a glitch or something, yeah that's it. I'll just pretend it never happened.

I closed my optics to try and get some early recharge. The words of the argument I had with myself echoing in my helm, 'That's weak and you know it' followed my Miko's 'You have a crush on Arcee!' over and over again until I finally fell into recharge much later than usual instead of earlier.

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><p><strong>That last scene took me a good three hours to write. It was a real pain, but I liked how it turned out and I hope you all did as well. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and thank you for reading. I'll see you all soon.<strong>

**Denta, Teeth**

**This chapter's credit song is "Linkin Park - Valentine's Day"  
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	12. Testing Weapons

**Has anyone here ever had writer's block so bad that they erased the chapter they had been working on because it wasn't working?... oh... that's just me? So between writer's block and not being able to log on to my account for two of the last three days *Thank you Fanfiction* this chapter is late, sorry about that.**

**Again, thank you Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**anissa - Thank you. I'm not sure what you mean by Shadowstreaker having visions in the other chapters. Do you mean he should have visions in later chapters? Or do you mean Shadowstreaker should have visions that are based on the episodes that have already passed? I'm just looking for clarification. **

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for my O.C. **

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><p><strong>June 24, 2012 2:13 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

Ratchet may have said my parts only needed a few solar-cycles of rest, but the gruff medic kept me confined to the med-bay until just three breems ago. He probably was still mad at me for suggesting that he liked Moonracer. There hadn't been any skirmishes with the Decepticons while I was stuck in the med-bay, or anything really noteworthy. In fact, the only thing I missed was Ratchet and Moonracer opening the newly built washracks. The two medics had cleaned out a rarely used storage area, and fitted a dozen washracks separated into stalls for what little privacy that would give since none of the stalls had curtains or doors. This was where I was right now.

My recently cleaned armor was stacked in a pile on the floor next to me as I used a bot-sized brush to clean built-up grime from my left shoulder-joint. Ratchet said that due to the amount of damage I sustained in that shoulder-joint, it would always be more prone to built-up dirt and grime than usual. I had been confined to the med-bay for over a mega-cyle, so there was a lot of dirt and grime to clean out.

"Come on," I said to myself, as the water from the washrack above my helm washed over my protoform.

There was one last stubborn piece of grime in my shoulder-joint, and it was proving to be very difficult to get out. Finally, the piece of grime was removed from my shoulder-joint and I sighed with relief. I put the brush back where it belonged on the side of the stall, turned the water off, and then began reattaching both layers of my armor. Once the last piece of my armor was back in place, I decided to go down to the Safe for some target practice.

I stepped through the automatic door leading into the hallway and turned left toward the bot-sized elevator. I heard Jack give a frustrated yell from the ops center. That meant one of two things, either he was playing Dark Souls and dying a lot, or he was going against Miko in a racing game. Miko never raced cleanly. She would send you into a wall at every opportunity she got.

I pressed the button on elevator's control panel for the Safe as I heard Jack give another frustrated yell. This time he threw in some curses after he yelled.

'Yup, he's playing Dark Souls,' I thought, and leaned against the back of the elevator. Once the elevator stopped at the Safe, I walked over towards the weapons range and saw I wasn't the only one down here.

Bulkhead was looking down at a massive amount of various weapons he had laid out on the ground in front of him. There were a number of Neutron Assault Rilfes, Scrapmakers, EMP Shotguns, Photon Burst Rifles and a few others I didn't know the names of.

"What are you doing?" I asked, as I went over to join the Wrecker to look at the various weaponry.

Bulkhead looked at me and spoke as I approached, "I'm finally getting around to testing all the weapons we recovered from the Decepticon mine. Then I'll store the ones that still work in the armory."

My interest was piqued, "Testing the weapons you say?" I'll admit it, I loved shooting guns.

Bulkhead sighed and said, "Yes, but most of these things were buried in the ground before the Cons dug them out. It took me this long just to clean them, and I have no idea how many will work."

I looked at the different guns on the ground before turning back to Bulkhead, "Let me help," I said simply.

The Wrecker gave me his full attention, "There's over a hundred separate guns that need to be tested, do you know how long that's going to take?" he asked with a raised optic ridge.

I gave him a shrug, "I came down here to get some target practice anyway. Why not help you out while getting that target practice?"

Bulkhead nodded, "Alright, pick out a weapon and I'll get the ammo," he said, and walked over to some storage crates on the far side of the range.

I looked back at the array of weapons on the floor a moment before reaching down and picking up a Neutron Assault Rifle. I was curious to see why this was used by so many Decepticons on Earth.

While I walked toward the range, I studied the weapon in my servos. It was similar to a human assault rilfe in terms of how it functioned. It had an adjustable stock like I'd seen on military issued M4's, and it couldn't be attached or installed into a servo so you had to hold it like a human would hold an assault rifle.

Bulkhead arrived at the range at the same time as I did. He had been carrying two storage containers in his servos before setting them down.

"Neutron AR huh? It's a start," Bulkhead said, and opened up the containers he brought over. Both of the containers were filled with energy cells that were used for ammunition in weapons that couldn't be linked to our systems.

Bulkhead tossed me an energy cell, and I inserted the cell into the bottom of the Neutron AR near the stock as if I was loading a strange human shotgun. The rifle hummed to life after I loaded the energy cell into it.

I adjusted the stock on the rifle to a setting suited for my size before aiming at one of the presents Wheeljack left us before leaving - a target drone. Target drones were designed for testing weapons. Anything from a Energon Battle Pistol, to an Ion Displacer wouldn't do much damage to it and what damage was caused was easily repaired.

I pulled the Neutron AR's trigger. Instantly it was firing at what I guessed was twice the rate of my Plasma Chaingun, but it lacked the same accuracy or stopping power. Each little bullet of energy the Neutron AR was shooting wasn't doing much damage to the target drone. After two mico-klicks, the rifle spent the rest the energy in the cell, and I gave the depleted energy cell and empty rifle to Bulkhead.

Bulkhead set the energy cell and rifle down on the ground next to him. "The Neutron AR may be old, but it's reliable," he said, then he gestured over at the other weapons. "Pick out another one, we have a lot more to test." He gave a light sigh after he said this.

"I get the feeling that you've done this quite a few times," I said, as I picked up another Neutron AR from the ground. There were well over three dozen of these rifles among the weapons on the floor. It was probably a good idea to test a few of them before moving on to a different weapon.

The Wrecker chuckled as he tossed me another energy cell, "Ha ha, you have no idea kid. Back during the war, I was in charge of testing every weapon the entire Wrecker unit scavenged from battle. Let me tell you, it was a lot of weapons."

I aimed at the target drone again, the rifle clicked and refused to fire. I ejected the energy cell from the rifle and tossed it back to Bulkhead, "What do you do with a faulty gun?" I asked, and held up the Neutron AR in my sevos.

He nodded toward the elevator, "Put it over there, we'll probably just melt it down for scrap metal."

I went to the elevator and set the faulty weapon next to it, "Did you ever get help from other Bots when you tested the scavenged weapons?" I asked, while I picked out another weapon to test.

"Oh yeah, Ironhide helped me more than the others. At least until he meet his sparkmate..."

"Chromia." I finished Bulkhead's sentence as I picked up an EMP Shotgun, and walked back to the range.

Bulkhead looked at me in slight surprise. "Arcee told you she has sisters?" his voice mirrored his expression as he threw two energy cells to me.

I loaded the EMP Shotgun and before answering Bulkhead's question. The recoil on the EMP was substantial and so was the damage it caused. I saw five or six grapefruit-sized holes in the target drone, but I liked my Scatter-Blaster more. It had similar damage and was semi-automatic.

I handed the empty energy cells and the EMP Shotgun to Bulkhead, "Yes she did, she also said Chromia was slightly obsessed with big guns," I said recalling our conversation in Antarctica.

Bulkhead gave a fond laugh, "That's true. I remember that when she and Ironhide were courting, the weapons range was their most frequent rendezvous. Of course, that was after over half the entire Wrecker unit finally managed to convince Ironhide to ask her out," Bulkhead laughed again.

"Over half your entire unit? Stubborn much?" I asked, as I considered what weapon I was going to use next.

"When he's under fire Ironhide is the calmest mech you'll ever meet, but when it comes to femmes he had been the most stubborn mech you'll ever meet," Bulkhead said with a smile on his faceplate.

I picked up a smaller version of my Scatter-Blaster from the floor and took the energy cell Bulkhead offered me, "So how'd you convince him?" I asked.

"We had to pull a... What do humans call it, um..." Bulkhead snapped his digits and continued, "Intervention! That's it. Wheeljack, one of my buddies named Springer, and I got all the off-duty Wreckers together in the conference room. Then we commed Ironhide and had him report to the conference room. Once he arrived we locked the door behind him and each told fake sob stories about how he was being so stubborn that he was affecting all of us. We even got our commander Sandstorm in on it." Bulkhead laughed at the memory he was describing. "We kept him in the conference room so long that we got Ironhide to sign a contract saying he would ask Chromia out!"

That part made laugh and miss my target.

"Ironhide still hasn't thanked us for that," Bulkhead finished with a small laugh as I handed the Scatter-Blaster over to him.

We didn't say anything else for half a breem. I tested eight more Neutron ARs, two EMP Shotguns and five Photon Burst Rilfes before one of us spoke.

"You know... I can't recall another Bot that found out about Arcee's sisters from her faster than you," Bulkhead said curiously as he handed me six energy cells for the weapon I held in my left servo. It was remarkably similar to a human M-32 MGL.

"What's the big deal about that?" I asked, as I started loading each energy cell into a separate cylinder.

"Well it's... it's not like her. She hasn't seen either of her sisters since the war ended and she'll never say it out loud, but it causes her pain to be away from them for so long. Arcee rarely talks about her sisters, and when she does it's just a passing phrase. Pit, we had been on Earth for five orbital-cycles before she even mentioned more than their names in front of me," Bulkhead said, before looking me in the optic. "For her to even tell you she has sisters, let alone tell you that one of her sisters has a sparkmate... That means she either trusts you, or respects you quite a bit."

I ignored the way my spark reacted to the thought of Arcee trusting me more she would most other Bots, and shot the grenade launcher at the target drone. The result was what you'd expect, a mid-sized explosion that caused a good deal of damage to the target drone.

"Huh," was my short response to Bulkhead's words, after I had emptied all six cylinders in the grenade lanucher.

Bulkhead gave me a strange look at my very short response, but he didn't say anything about it as I gave him the empty energy cells along with the grenade launcher.

I picked out another weapon to test faster than usual, it looked like a more bulky and less streamlined version of my Chaingun.

"What is this?" I asked Bulkhead, in a subtle effort to change the subjet back to weapons.

If Bulkhead knew I was trying to change the subject he didn't show it. "That is a X-18 Scrapmaker. It was a prototype at the end of the war and I think your Chaingun is an updated version of it," he said, as he tossed me an energy cell and crossed his servos over his chestplates.

I loaded the energy cell into the Scrapmaker and fired at the target drone. Bulkhead saying that my Chaingun was an updated version of this was an accurate statement. It sounded almost identical and fired at nearly the same rate. The only difference I saw was that it was more like a spray and pray weapon, while my Chaingun was more precise. Also, when I hit the target drone it caused a bit more damage than my Chaingun.

Once the X-18 clicked empty, I tossed it to Bulkhead and walked over to the other weapons.

"How many more were you planning on testing?" Bulkhead asked and set the Scrapmaker on the ground next to the other weapons I had already tested.

"I don't know, maybe until we finish the testing," I said with a shrug, while not taking my focus off the weapons in front of me.

Bulkhead and I spent the next three and a half breems down in the Safe. I tested the weapons, Bulkhead gave me the energy cells, and when I had the occasional faulty weapon I set it by the elevator. In all forty-two Neutron ARs, eight X-18 Scrapmakers, four grenade launchers, thirteen Photon Burst Rifles, nine EMP Shotguns, three sniper rifles and two Scatter-Blasters were going to be added to the armory. I helped Bulkhead bring up the first batch of tested weapons up to the armory, and after Bulkhead thanked me for the help, I went to my quarters for some energon.

I was sitting with my pedes on the desk with a nearly finished cube of energon in my servo, it had only been a half a breem since I helped Bulkhead and I was bored out of my CPU. I already had used the washracks, and gotten a lot of target practice while I helped Bulkhead. Searching for something interesting on the internet was also not an option, I had already read everything that caught my interest while I was confined in the med-bay. Not even cleaning my own weapons was an option since they were already in pristine condition. I finally decided that sitting here wasn't going to give me an idea about what I could do. I finished off my cube of energon, walked out of my quarters, and started toward the ops center.

Ratchet was standing in his usual spot in front of the workstation when I entered the ops center. Looking over toward the catwalk, I saw Raf sitting on the couch in front of the TV. He was looking at the floor and had an unusually bummed-out look on his face. Raf didn't get sad easily so whatever was bothering him must be significant.

I made my way over toward Raf. I don't think he knew someone was approaching since his eyes never turned from where he was looking at the floor. Even after I stopped walking and had been standing behind the catwalk where Raf was sitting for a klick, he never gave any indication that I was there. It took a lot of effort to not notice a Cybertronian my size standing next to you.

"What's bothering you Raf?" I asked after another klick of silence.

Raf yelled in surprise, and turned to look at me with an alarmed look on his face. He let out a relieved sigh when he saw who had spoken, "How'd you sneak up on me like that?"

I rose an optic ridge at his question, "You were so out of it The Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot, a Tyrannosaurus Rex and Chuck Norris could have been having a breakdancing contest right in front if you and you wouldn't have noticed," I said. "Now, what's bothering you?" I repeated my question, and crossed my servos.

Raf rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he picked up from Jack. "Well... Bumblebee went on a mission with Optimus, Moonracer and Prowl," Raf paused and glanced at the ground bridge in obvious sadness, "And he was going to play video games with me," he said, and then looked down at the floor in disappointment.

I could tell that Bumblebee leaving to go on a mission wasn't really what he was sad about. "We both know there's more to what's bothering you Raf," I said, and leaned down slightly so I was closer to his level.

The brown haired boy sighed, "How are you always so perceptive?" he asked weakly, and let himself drop down on the couch.

"Teaching me how to be perceptive was one of the few things my human father taught me," I said in response, and waited for Raf to say what really was bothering him.

He seemed to collect his thoughts before speaking again, "Earlier today, my family made an important decision without asking what I thought about it," Raf finally said, and rolled on to his left side.

"What was the decision?" I asked quietly.

"They decided that all of us are going up to Boston for my cousin's wedding," Raf said with a heavy sigh.

I didn't say anything for a few micro-klicks. My human mother and father had been only children, and beyond grandparents I never had an extended family. "Is this cousin close to you and your family?" I asked, and gave Ratchet a brief glance as he walked toward the med-bay.

Raf scoffed, "He's close to everyone except me. Whenever I try to have a conversation with him, he treats me as if I'm a five-year old." I could hear the anger in his voice as he said this.

"Have you told your family you don't want to go up to Boston?" Raf didn't say that yet, but I knew he was going to eventually.

"I did, but they didn't listen! I had practically screamed at them I didn't want to go, but I have five brothers and sisters. Sometimes I can yell all I want to get their attention and no one will hear me," Raf had started his short rant with a furious tone, but his tone was a lot more sad than angry by the time he finished talking.

"How about singling out each of them out, and explaining that you want to stay in Jasper instead of going to Boston," I suggested.

Raf shook his head, "That won't work. My family has a strict time-schedule and we usually only see each other during breakfast and dinner," Raf said, and went into a sitting position on the couch.

"Raf, do your parents have their own computers?" I asked, after neither of us had said anything for several klicks.

"Yeah, my brothers and sisters have their own computers as well, but what's that got to do with my problem?" Raf asked with a confused look on his face.

I smiled slightly, "You're a hacker Raf. If they won't listen to you when your entire family is in the same room..." I let my sentence hang.

Raf kept looking at me in confusion for a moment, then he widened his eyes. "I can put a message on their computers saying that I don't want to go to Boston!" he said with realization in his voice.

"Exactly," I said with an affirmative nod, and started to walk back to my quarters since Raf was now in a better mood.

"Hey wait!" the young boy said to me after I had only taken a few steps.

I stopped and turned back to look at Raf.

"Two things. First, thanks for your help and listening. Second... Do you want to play some Forza? Bumblebee won't be back for awhile, and Arcee took Jack and Miko back to their houses for some reason," Raf said, and pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the Xbox.

After considering it for a micro-klick I shrugged, "Alright, I was trying to find something to do earlier anyway." I transformed into my MRAP alt mode, and materialized my holoform next to Raf.

Except for the military style buzz-cut, My holoform looked exactly as I did when I was a human. This was the first time I had ever used my holoform, and it was very disorientating. Have you ever held a video camera up to your eye and watched a film clip without closing your other eye? It was a lot like that. I was looking through human eyes, and the much more clear and crisp vision of Cybertronian optics at the same time.

I shook my holoform's head in an effort to get rid of some disorientation, "This is so weird," I said, and looked at Raf.

"What is?" Raf asked, and tossed my holoform a controller as he started up Forza.

"Me being in a holoform. I'm looking through my optics, but I'm also looking through human eyes. It's going to take some getting used to," I said, while powering up the controller in my holoform's hands.

"Good, it'll be easier for me to win while you're disorientated," Raf said confidently.

"We'll see about that," I said, and waited for Raf to choose his car before picking out my own.

* * *

><p>Two breems and forty five klicks later, I was standing next to the lone tree at the top of the base. Raf and I had played Forza until Ratchet bridged Moonracer, Bumblebee, Prowl and Optimus back to base.<p>

Their mission was very beneficial, they had discovered an energon stash hidden long ago by Autobots. Optimus had recruited Bulkhead and I to help transport the energon to base. It took all of us -excluding Ratchet and Arcee- nearly a breem to gather all of the energon from the stash.

Ratchet logged every energon storage container we brought through the ground bridge. When we finally emptied the energon stash, Ratchet's count was at five-hundred and one. That was by far the largest energon haul we had since I became a Cybertronian. It was enough energon to last the eight of us one orbital-cyle when we factored in repairing injuries, our basic need of two energon cubes every solar-cycle, power for the base and using the ground bridge.

After all the energon had been stored, Bumblebee took my place playing Forza with Raf, and I came up here to simply enjoy the view of the stars and the surrounding canyon. I hadn't been up here since my last talk with the Thirteen. Speaking of which, I wonder why I haven't spoken with any of them since Solus dropped the bomb about she and Megatronus being sparkmates.

I was brought out of my thoughts when I heard the human-sized elevator activate. I turned around in time to see Jack calmly step out of the elevator. Miko, however, was practically running at full speed. She cleared the elevator door and looked up at the night-sky in excitement.

"What's the rush?" I asked Miko, as both of them as they approached where I was standing.

"Raf said there was supposed to be a meteor shower tonight! I've always wanted to see one, but never got the chance in Tokyo because of all the lights. Has it started yet!" Miko asked, as she continued to frantically search the sky.

"Raf said we still have about ten minutes until it starts, Miko," Jack said, and shook his head slightly in amusement at Miko's antics.

I glanced at the human elevator behind Jack before I asked, "Anyone else coming up?"

Jack nodded, "Raf and Bumblebee are finishing up one last race. Miko asked Bulkhead, but he's still got a few things to do before he can come up. Arcee said she'll be up soon. She's trying to find some telescopes that Miko, Raf and I can use." As if Jack's words were some que, I heard the bot-sized elevator activate, and a few micro-klicks later I saw Arcee and Bumblebee walk out with Raf on Bumblebee's shoulder-joint.

Miko ran up to Arcee excitedly, "Did you find any telescopes? Come on, we don't have all night, it could start at any second!" she said urgently.

Arcee rolled her optics and crouched down to Miko's level. "I could only find two, and since Raf needed one, you and Jack will both have to use this," she said, and gave Miko a small telescope.

Miko grabbed the telescope out of Arcee's servo and ran toward the tree without saying a word.

"You're welcome," Arcee said dryly, and stood back to her full height.

Jack looked at his guardian apologetically, "Sorry about Miko, but thanks for the telescope Arcee," he said, and walked over to Miko.

Bumblebee looked over at Raf on his shoulder-joint. _"How much time do we have before it starts?"_ he asked the youngest human present at the moment, as we followed Jack and Miko to the tree.

Raf looked at the clock on his phone and answered. "Right about..." There was a faint crackling sound similar to a campfire that momentarily interrupted Raf. "... Now," the boy finished, and looked up at the night sky at the same time we stopped next to Miko and Jack.

The rest of us looked up at the sky after Raf did. The meteor shower had certainly started... and it was incredible. It seemed like the sky was constantly in movement as several meteors every micro-klick were entering Earth's atmosphere before disintegrating. The trails the meteors were leaving behind varied in color, some were white, and others were yellow or blue, and occasionally red and green.

I heard a soft *Thunk* near the base of my pedes. I looked down and saw that Miko had dropped the telescope in her hands. She didn't seem to notice as the expression on her face was one of pure awe. Jack had a similar look on his face, but not to the same extreme as Miko. I looked over at Bumblebee and Raf as they pointed at a particularly bright meteor, before turning my attention to Arcee.

She was looking up at the sky like everyone else, but it seemed like she wasn't watching the meteor shower. It looked more as if she was looking for something beyond the meteor shower. I recalled Bulkhead's conversation with me about how it caused Arcee pain to be separated from her sisters for so long.

"You're thinking about Chromia and Elita-One aren't you?" I asked her quietly, so as not to disturb the others while they watched the meteor shower.

"Yeah, it's strange to be away from them for so long. I'm always wondering where they are, what they did this cycle and when I'll see them again. I'd give anything to sit down with them again and just talk," Arcee said in a quiet and wistful tone. She turned toward me, "What about you? Do you think about your brothers very much?" She looked me straight in the optics as she asked this.

I quickly looked back up at the sky, seeming to be in thought, but I actually just wanted to prevent my spark from fluttering. "Not as much as you think about your sisters I suspect, but sometimes yeah. I've already accepted the fact I'll probably never see them again, but everything they taught me is always on my CPU," I said, and lightly tapped the silver mark on the side of my helm.

Arcee and I didn't speak for several klicks. In fact, no one else seemed to be talking either. When they did, it was barely audible to anyone other than the person next to them. We all simply watched the meteor shower.

I heard the bot-sized elevator get called down to a lower level. Less than a klick later I heard it return to our level. I didn't need to turn around to know Bulkhead had just arrived. The Wrecker appeared in my peripheral vision a moment later as he went to stand next to Miko.

"How much did I miss?" I heard Bulkhead ask her in a whisper, and leaned down to offer her and Jack a spot on his shoulder-joints.

"You missed a lot! What took you so long!" Miko scolded softly.

"Traffic," he joked, and stifled a laugh when Miko playfully punched his armor and then shook her hand at the pain that action likely brought.

I was about to tease Miko for what she just did, when an unusually bright blue-green meteor got my attention. It was lasting much longer than the other meteors we had seen, and it seemed to be slowing down.

"What is that?" Arcee asked when the anomaly caught her attention as well.

The faint sounds of conversation died with Arcee's words, and we all followed the path of the unusual meteor warily. The meteor continued burning across the night sky, its light was significant enough to drown out a few stars. Suddenly, the meteor shifted its path in a different direction... directly at Arcee and I.

"Down!" I yelled, and I saw Bulkhead leap to the side just before I half-pushed and half-tackled Arcee to the ground to get us out of the immediate path of what we now knew couldn't possibly be a meteor.

Whatever was falling out of the sky hit the ground right where Arcee and I had just been standing, slid another fifty meters or so and stopped. None of us moved as we looked at the object that had almost offlined Arcee and I. It looked to be Cybertronian in origin. It was cone-like in shape and was relativity small by our standards and was still glowing red-hot from atmospheric reentry.

Jack voiced all out thoughts with one word in an astonished voice, "Damn."

What Jack said seemed to snap me back to reality, and I noticed that I was laying on the ground next to Arcee with a servo wrapped around her tank area, I quickly removed my servo and stood up as I felt my cooling fans activate quietly.

"Thanks," Arcee said as I gave her a helping servo up, she was either ignoring that we had just been in an intimate position, or she was too focused on the object to have noticed.

"Everyone alright?" I asked and looked to where I saw Bulkhead leap earlier, but the impact from the object had created a smoke cloud that I couldn't see through.

The Wrecker emerged from behind the smoke with Jack and Miko in separate servos, "We're good," he said, and set the humans he was carrying down on the ground.

_"Raf and I are okay,"_ I heard Bumblebee say from behind me.

"I'm good," Jack said, and pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth.

"That... was... AWESOME!" Miko yelled while she pumped her fist in the air. This caused her to go in a coughing fit and she also pulled part of her shirt over her nose and mouth.

I face-palmed at Miko's words and shook my helm. It seemed like nothing could deter her from being excited about something. That was both a good thing and a bad thing, a good thing because it took a lot to dampen her sprit. And a bad thing since it somtimes made her look naive, or just not care about anything.

Arcee looked at Jack, Raf and Miko, "Stay here. We're going to go find out what almost crushed us is," she said, and waved the rest us to follow her to the smoking object.

When we got a bit closer I saw what looked to be small engines fitted on the side facing us. A small door was on the opposite side.

_"It could be a storage pod,"_ Bumblebee said, when he saw the door.

"Or it could be a trap, unless you've forgotten about the scraplets," Bulkhead said. Bumblebee shivered as the Wrecker mentioned the scraplets.

"There's only one way to find out. Shadowstreaker, open the door," Arcee ordered, and transformed one of her servos into a modified Photon Burst Rifle that she recently replaced her old blaster for.

Bulkhead and Bumblebee followed her example, and aimed their own weapons at the door.

I deployed my Chaingun, and went over to the door to search for the locking mechanism. Once I found it, I looked at the others with a question written in my optics 'Are you ready?' They nodded at my silent question, and I hit the button that would open the door.

The result was nearly instantaneous. Arcee, Bulkhead and Bumblebee recoiled as if stuck by some invisible blow, and lowered their weapons. Each of their mouths were open slightly in shock.

Curious to know what had shocked them so much, I walked closer to them and turned to look inside as well, my expression quickly mirrored my fellow Autobots. Looking out at us in uncertainty and a small amount of fear... was a sparkling.

* * *

><p><strong>Why yes, that is a large cliffhanger. And you probably thought I was going to end that chapter in some corny way.<strong>

**Please remember to leave a review. After all, reviews mean a happy author, a happy author means better chapters, better chapters mean a more well written story, and a well written story means happy readers. It's a very delicate system. As usual thank you all for reading and I'll see you soon.**

**Holoform, A Holoform *When explained in it's most simple terms* is a hologram made out of solid light that allows Cybertronians *Particularly Autobots* to interact with humans while not revealing their true nature. However, Holoforms have a limited range of only about fifty meters from the alt mode of the Cybertronian using the Holoform.**

**Tank = Stomach.**

**Courting = Dating.**

**This chapter's credit song is "Skillet - Alien Youth" I only picked it because of the first thirty-one seconds (Trust me it suits how I left this chapter very well), but it's a good song, maybe you should listen to the whole thing.**


	13. The Sparkling

**I'm not going to take much of your time by writing author's notes, so yeah.**

**Again, thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading. And also for helping me with the sparkling's name.**

**Anduren - Then I've done my job in surprising readers.**

**anissa - I think I can make that work in a way that makes sense, but it'll have to be several chapters from now since it wouldn't make sense if Shadowstreaker randomly had visions of the past. Please don't get mad that I can't use your idea right away, but I believe I have an interesting way of using your idea, you'll just have to wait for a few chapters. Thanks for the idea :)**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for my OCs.**

* * *

><p><strong>June 24, 2012 9:46 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

The sparkling was colored silver with blue trim, and very small, being only a little taller than Miko's height. He -the sparkling looked to be both a mechling and a seekerlet judging by his small wings- looked out at us with fuchsia optics from where he sat in what we now knew was some kind of escape pod.

For five klicks we just stood and looked at the sparkling dumbfoundedly. It was after I heard Miko's phone take a picture that we were snapped from our daze.

"That's definitely scrap-book material!" She said with her usual excitement as she stood between us and the escape pod.

We Autobots shook ourselves out of our stupor after Miko said this.

Bulkhead reached down and picked Miko up. "Please Miko. For now you need to go stand with Jack and Raf, this is very important," he said, and carried Miko back to the other humans.

I heard Miko huff at the Wreckers words, but she didn't say anything in protest.

Arcee took a few steps closer to the pod. She stopped when the sparkling backed away slightly from the open door. **"Hey, It's okay. We're not going to hurt you,"** Arcee said calmly to the sparkling in the language of Cybertron, and took a step back before crouching down to be closer to the sparkling's level.

**"You pointed guns at me,"** the sparkling said back to Arcee in a surprisingly clear, but frightened voice.

I walked over to Arcee and followed her example by crouching. **"We're sorry, we didn't know you were inside that pod,"** I said, keeping my voice gentle and quiet so my size didn't scare the sparkling.

The seekerlet looked at me, and tilted his helm as he studied my wings. **"You have wings like my sire."** He didn't sound as frightened as he did just a few micro-klicks ago as he said this.

I looked at my wings for a brief moment. **"Do I? Where is your sire?"** I was really hoping he wasn't going to say his sire was offline.

**"He's back on our ship... he and my carrier are probably really worried about me,"** the sparkling said as he hung his helm.

**"Why aren't you back on your ship with them?"** Arcee asked gently. I could tell she was just as relieved as I was that the sparkling's creators were still online.

The silver and blue mechling looked back at Arcee and I. **"My carrier and sire told me not to play in the escape pod..."**

**"But you did anyway didn't you?"** I asked, when I got an idea of what he was going to say.

**"Yes... I hit a button I wasn't supposed to,"** the sparkling said guiltily, and hung his helm again.

**"I bet you're not going to disobey them again are you?"** Arcee asked and gave the sparkling a small smile.

The sparkling didn't look up as he shook his helm. **"No, I should have listened to them."** The sparkling's tank rumbled faintly after he said this.

Arcee took a few steps closer to the pod and the sparkling didn't try to back away from the door this time. She couched right outside the door. **"When was the last time you had any energon?"** She asked.

**"Two solar-cycles,"** the sparkling said after his tank rumbled again.

**"Well, we're going to have to change that won't we?"** Arcee held her servo out to the sparkling after she said this.

The sparkling accepted Arcee's servo. She picked him up and held him like a human would hold a toddler. "We need to comm the others and let them know that we found this little guy up here," Arcee said to me in English.

I nodded and comm-linked the workstation in the ops center. _"Hey Ratchet, Moonracer, we have a patient the two of you need to check on that we're bringing down momentarily,"_ I said and waited for a response.

_"What? You're just watching a meteor shower, how'd one of you get injured?"_ Ratchet asked gruffly through the comm-link.

_"I didn't say that anyone was injured. Ratch, we have a new arrival that is in need of energon..."_ Ratchet cut me off before I could finish speaking.

_"How? Our sensors didn't detect any ships or crash landings,"_ he was more curious than annoyed now.

_"Our sensors aren't designed to detect an escape pod created for a sparkling, Ratchet,"_ I waited for my words to sink in.

The comm-link was quiet for several micro-klicks, it was the calm voice of Optimus that spoke through the comm-link next. _"Are you saying you've found a sparkling?"_

I watched as Bumblebee walked over to Arcee and gave the sparkling a wave as I spoke through the comm-link. _"Yes, both a mechling and a seekerlet unless my optics deceive me. His escape pod crash-landed on the top of the base after it almost hit Arcee and I."_

_"Why is he out here by himself?"_ Moonracer asked worriedly through the comm-link.

Bulkhead started walking towards us with Miko on his shoulder-joint and Jack and Raf in his servos just before I spoke to the other Bots again. _"He says that he had been playing inside the escape pod against both his carrier's and sire's will. He hit a button he shouldn't have according to the sparkling's own words. The sparkling also said that it's been two solar-cycles since he's had any energon,"_ I said, as the sparkling tilted his helm curiously at the humans Bulkhead was carrying over. He looked up at Arcee and said something to her I couldn't hear.

_"Bring him down to the med-bay so Moonracer and I can give him some energon and make sure he doesn't have any injuries,"_ Ratchet said, and then closed the comm.

After Ratchet closed the comm-link, I walked over and stood next to Arcee at the same time Bulkhead arrived with our human charges.

"Whatever that thing is... It's adorable!" Miko exclaimed from Bulkhead's shoulder-joint.

"He is not a thing, he is a sparkling, the first I've seen since the end of the war," Arcee said, and smiled at the sparkling she was holding.

"Are sparklings your children?" Raf asked, as Bulkhead set him and Jack down on the ground.

"Yes they are, Raf." Arcee said, without looking away from the sparkling.

**"What language are you speaking? It's interesting,"** the seekerlet asked Arcee curiously.

I answered the sparkling's question instead. **"The planet we are on is called Earth. The species that calls this world home are named humans. They use many different languages. That particular language is called English."**

"Oh no, not this again, can you please use a language we can understand?" Miko half whined. Jack and Raf seemed to agree with her judging by the looks on their faces.

"Sorry, sparkling CPU's aren't usually developed enough to download most information without help, including languages," I said to them with an apologetic shrug, and looked at Arcee. "Ratchet and Moonracer want us to bring the sparkling down to the med-bay so they can make sure he doesn't have any injuries."

Arcee nodded and glanced at the sparkling in her servos. **"Our medics want to see if you were injured after that crash. Would it be okay if they made sure that you aren't?"** She asked in a caring tone.

**"Are they going to give me energon after?"** the sparkling asked hopefully.

**"Yes, they will give you energon,"** I answered, as all of us started walking toward the elevator.

**"Then yes!"** The sparkling said happily, and turned slightly in Arcee's servos to look at something off to my left. **"What's that?"** He asked and pointed a digit in the direction he was looking.

I glanced at where he was pointing and saw the helicopter pad had gotten his attention. **"That's a helicopter pad. Humans use it for landing certain types of vehicles they use for transportation,"** I said, as we entered the bot-sized elevator, and pressed the button to go back down to the ground level.

**"Humans can't fly?"** The seekerlet asked, looking shocked by this revelation.

Arcee chuckled before answering his question. **"No, humans can't fly. They have to make machines to help them travel long distances."**

Jack tapped the base of my pede to get my attention. "What did the sparkling say that made Arcee laugh?" he asked, when I looked down toward him.

"The helicopter pad interested him and he asked what it was. When I told him what a helicopter pad was, and what it was used for he asked 'Humans can't fly?' in a rather shocked tone I might add," I explained with a smile.

Jack laughed after I told him what the sparkling said.

I saw Miko lean forward slightly from where she sat on Bulkhead's shoulder-joint. "What's your name?" She asked the sparkling in English despite the fact I already told her that for now he couldn't understand any other language except for the language of Cybertron.

Arcee repeated Miko's question, "**What's your name?"**

**"Wildwing, what are all of yours?"** He asked, as he looked at everyone in the elevator.

I relayed Wildwing's name and request to our human friends. **"The humans' names are Jack, Miko and Raf."** I pointed a digit at each of them as I told Wildwing their names. **"I'm Shadowstreaker, it's nice to meet you, Wildwing,"** I said, and gave the silver and blue mechling a small nod.

**"My name's Arcee. Welcome to Earth, Wildwing,"** the femme I recently discovered I had a crush on said to Wildwing.

**"The name's Bulkhead, little mech."** The Wrecker introduced himself.

_**"I'm Bumblebee,"**_ the yellow and black scout said happily.

The elevator door opened a micro-klick after we finished introductions, and we immediately headed for the med-bay.

Ratchet and Moonracer were standing on either side of one of the medical berths when we entered the med-bay, while Optimus and Prowl stood off to the side. Optimus was giving the sparkling a warm smile, while Prowl was his usual stoic self.

**"This shouldn't take very long, mechling. Have a seat,"** Ratchet said to Wildwing in a uncharacteristically kind voice, after Optimus told Wildwing the names of everyone he hadn't met yet.

Arcee set Wildwing down on the floor. The mechling ran to the medical berth and jumped up on it enthusiastically.

I saw Ratchet give a rare smile as Moonracer gave Wildwing a small cube of energon while he started a medical scan of the sparkling.

**"Thank you,"** Wildwing said to Moonracer after accepting the cube she offered him and taking a few small sips.

**"You're welcome, Wildwing,"** the green and white femme said kindly.

Ratchet spoke a klick after he started his scan of Wildwing. **"You are a bit low on energon. That will change after you finish the cube Moonracer gave you, but other than that, you're in perfect health,"** he said, and gestured to the workstation in the corner of the med-bay. **"Would it be alright if I uploaded one of the human languages into your CPU?"** Ratchet asked.

**"Will it be that human language... Engl...ish?"** Wildwing asked while he struggled with pronouncing the name of the human language, and gulped down the rest of his energon.

**"Yes-"** Ratchet didn't have time to finish speaking before Wildwing jumped off the medical berth and ran over to the workstation.

**"Yay! I get to talk like a human!"** After Wildwing said this, he climbed up on to the workstation without very much trouble, and starting jumping lightly in excitement.

I raised one of my optic ridges at Wildwing's exuberance and climbing ability. **"I believe that's a yes, Ratchet."** I said dryly.

I saw Ratchet roll his optics at my words as he walked over to the workstation and picked up a small cord off the floor that was connected to the workstation. **"This is a Neural Link cable. I need to attach it to the back of your helm and it might hurt a little bit, but only for a micro-klick. Are you ready?"** Ratchet asked, and gave Wildwing a curious look.

At the seekerlet's affrmative nod, Ratchet attached the cable to Wildwing's helm and typed a command into the workstation. Wildwing's optics became distant as the upload started. A few micro-klicks after Ratchet typing in his command, he detached the cable from Wildwing's helm.

"That tickled," Wildwing said in English with a smile after Ratchet detached the cable.

"You can talk like us now!" Miko said, and turned slightly so she could look the Bot who's shoulder-joint she was occupying. "Let me down Bulk', I want to talk with Wildwing while at the same level."

Bulkhead obliged Miko's request, and set her on the ground next to Jack and Raf.

As Wildwing climbed off the workstation and ran over to talk with humans in the room, Optimus gestured to Arcee, Bulkhead, Bumblebee and I to join Prowl and him.

Once we walked over to Optimus and Prowl at the wall, Ratchet and Moonracer joined us as well.

"With Wildwing's arrival there are some complications," Moonracer said, as she crossed her servos over her chestplates.

I scrunched my optic ridges in confusion and said. "But you said to Wildwing that he was in perfect health," I kept my voice low as I spoke.

"The complications aren't about Wildwing's health, but who will be his temporary care-taker or care-takers," Ratchet explained.

This confused me further. "Temporary care-taker or care-takers?" I asked Ratchet.

Moonracer answered my question instead. "Sparklings need almost constant attention, either from their creators or a temporary care-taker. And judging by how long it's been since Wildwing last had energon and how fast escape pods are designed to travel, it's a safe bet that it will at the least two mega-cycle before his actual creators arrive at Earth." Moonracer explained to me before looking at the other Bots that were on the top of the base watching the meteor shower. "Who were the first ones to speak with Wildwing?" she asked

I saw Arcee stiffen slightly out of the corner of my vision as I stiffened as well. "Why?" I asked cautiously, I had a feeling I wasn't going to like her answer.

Moonracer looked at me again. "Because when a sparkling is separated from its creators, it will almost always choose the first Cybertronian or Cybertronians that it speaks with as its temporary care-taker until being reunited with it's creators. Now, which one of you spoke with Wildwing first?" Moonracer answered my question casually and repeated her own question.

I had one thought going through my processor after she said that, 'Oh frag...' I'm certain Arcee had a similar thought going through her processor as well.

After no one had said anything for two klicks, Moonracer slowly looked back at me. "You were the first to speak with Wildwing weren't you?" There was barely contained humor hidden behind her voice.

"Both Shadow' and I were the first ones to speak with him," Arcee said quietly.

I was sure my spark would have fluttered when Arcee used a nickname for me, but I had other things I was a bit more focused on at the moment. "So... You're saying... That it's more than likely that Wildwing has chosen Arcee and I to be his temporary care-takers." I said flatly, more as a statement than a question.

I've yet to see Ratchet laugh, but the gruff medic looked to be damned close as he said in a forced even voice, "Yes..."

Bulkhead wrapped servos around the shoulder-joints of Arcee and I. "Congratulations to the temporary care-takers!" He said with a laugh.

I sighed at Bulkhead's words, I was about to speak again when Raf ran between my pedes and looked up at Optimus.

"We have a problem," Raf said to the Prime before he had stopped running.

"What is it Rafael?" Optimus asked, as he looked at Raf seriously.

Raf took a few deep breaths before answering. "Miko wanted to show Wildwing her guitar, so we brought him to the ops center and he..." He paused a moment. "He saw the support beams above the ops center and... Climbed up to them," Raf winced at his own words.

We all let Raf's words sink in for a micro-klick before Arcee and I rushed for the med-bay door with the others not far behind.

"This is an interesting way to start being temporary care-takers," Arcee said, as we entered the hallway and headed for the ops center.

I gave Arcee a sideways glance. "Agreed," I said simply.

When we entered the ops center, I saw Jack and Miko standing in the middle of the ops center while looking almost straight up. Arcee and I slid to a stop next to them and followed their gaze.

Wildwing was sitting on one of the support beams that was at least two-hundred feet above the ops center while he was kicking his pedes happily as they hung over the side. "It's really high up here!" The seekerlet said, after his optics brightened when he saw Arcee and I standing on the ground below him.

I shook my helm slightly in amazement. "How'd he even get up there?" I asked no one in particular.

"With some serious climbing skills," Jack said as the others approached.

I saw Optimus look up at the seekerlet out of the corner of my optic. "Wildwing, why are you up there?" he asked

"Because I like heights," Wildwing said, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

"That may be, but you need to come down," Arcee said firmly.

Wildwing looked slightly confused by Arcee's words. "Why?" He asked.

"Because you're very high up in the air, and if you fall you could go into stasis lock or worse. So you need to come down now," I said to the mechling in a similar tone as Arcee.

The seekerlet's wings drooped slightly in sadness. "Okay," he said with a light sigh, and stood up. Wildwing looked around at the surrounding support beams to find a place where he could start climbing down, but after three klicks he hadn't moved from where he first stood up.

"You can't get down," Prowl stated matter-of-factly, as Wildwing continued to look for a place to start climbing down.

Wildwing looked down at us. "No..." He admitted after a few micro-klicks. I could tell he was embarrassed.

I sighed, "Just stay there, I'm coming up." After I said this, I stepped away from the others so I'd have room, transformed into my F-22 alt mode, and hovered up toward Wildwing.

"Hop on to my wing, and hang on," I told Wildwing once I was at his level. Wildwing complied, and once he was on my wing I hovered back down to the floor of the ops center.

Optimus and Prowl left the to go to other parts of the base after I landed on the floor of the ops center.

As Wildwing jumped off my wing and landed on the floor, Arcee walked over to stand in front of Wildwing. "I trust you won't be going up there again," she said sternly.

"I won't," Wildwing said honestly when he heard the seriousness in Arcee's voice. The silver and blue mechling looked at Miko and then back at Arcee. "Miko wanted to show me how a guitar works. Can I go watch her play?" He was asking for permission like a human child would ask their mother, which confirmed that he looked at Arcee and I as his temporary care-takers.

"Go ahead," Arcee said to Wildwing, after she gave me a look that told me she had reached the same conclusion as I had.

Wildwing looked at me for permission as well. When I nodded he ran over Miko in excitement as Jack and Raf walked towards Arcee and I.

"Why'd he ask you two for permission to go watch Miko play?" Jack asked Arcee and I, as he looked over his shoulder at Wildwing with a confused expression on his face.

"Because, Jack. Until his creators arrive at Earth, Arcee and I need to be his temporary care-takers, basically his foster parents," I said with a sigh, as I crossed my servos over my chestplates. I didn't bother with explaining any Cybertronian terms to Jack, Raf and Miko anymore, since they already learned most of them in their time at base.

Raf looked a bit surprised by this as he asked. "Wait, why do you two need to be his tempoary care-takers? Why can't Optimus or Moonracer be his temporary care-taker?"

"When sparklings are separated from their creators, they almost always pick the first Cybertronians they speak to as their temporary care-takers. In this case, Shadow' and I," Arcee explained to Jack and Raf what Moonracer had said earlier. She gave a sigh that was similar to mine.

"How long are the two of you going to be his temporary care-takers?" Jack asked.

I looked over at Wildwing as we watched Miko play a slower song so he could follow her movements, and turned back to Jack. "Arcee and I are going to be his temporary care-takers until his creators arrive. When that will be we don't know for certain, but it will be at least two mega-cycles." I said, and turned my attention back to Wildwing.

Jack's phone rang a few micro-klicks after I spoke and he answered it. "Hey mom... Why tonight?... Alright I'll start for home now... Bye," Jack ended the brief conversation with his mother and looked up at Arcee. "Mom wants me to get home early tonight, I apparently have a dentist appointment in the morning. Can we leave right now Arcee?" He asked his guardian, as he put his phone back in his pocket.

Arcee transformed into her alt mode. "Let's go," she said, as Jack put on his helmet and climbed on.

Ratchet stepped in front of Arcee and blocked her path before she and Jack drove away.

His action made me raise an optic ridge. "Why are you stopping them from leaving?" I asked the white and red medic as he stood between Arcee and the entrance tunnel.

Ratchet looked at me and said simply. "Because you and Arcee can't leave the base until further notice."

"Jack, get off," Arcee said to the dark haired teen after Ratchet spoke. Once Jack got off Arcee's alt mode, she transformed back to her true form and looked at Ratchet with contained anger. "And why would that be?" She asked with a trace of anger in her voice despite tying to seem calm.

Moonracer went over and stood at Ratchet's side. "Wildwing is separated from his creators. If either of his temporary care-takers are away for a long period of time he will likely panic. He may seem to be fine now, but he's likely very scared. He has been separated from his creators and sitting alone in an escape pod for two solar-cycles. That was most certainly a traumatizing event for him. There is a chance that his recharge will be haunted by nightmares until he's reunited with his creators, and when that happens both of you will need to be in his presence to calm him down." She looked at Wilding sadly after she said this.

"So, if Wildwing has nightmares as you think he will and I'm the only one at base, I won't be able to calm him down until Arcee returns. That means that neither Arcee or I will be able to leave base until Wildwing's creators arrive." I spoke with frustration that Arcee and I were confined to base, but was accepting the fact of why it was necessary.

"That is unfortunately correct on all counts. Until Wildwing is reunited with his creators, you and Arcee can't leave the base." Ratchet said almost sympathetically, as he walked to the workstation.

"Well, I guess I have to make up an excuse to my mom for why you're not at home, Arcee." Jack said a bit regretfully, likely because he didn't want to lie to his mom more that he had too.

"Jack, I'm sorry..." Arcee started apologizing before Jack held up a hand.

"Don't worry about it, Arcee. It's not like you and Shadowstreaker chose to be Wildwing's temporary care-takers. I'll just tell my mom that my motorcycle needs some repairs," Jack said dismissively, knowing that we didn't have control over who Wildwing picked as his temporary care-takers.

Bumblebee walked over with Raf on his shoulder-joint. _"I'm taking Raf home, if you need a ride Jack. I'll be happy to give you one,"_ the scout said gladly, not that Jack could understand him.

"He says that he'll give you a ride home Jack. I needed to get home anyway," Raf translated for his friend and guardian, as Bumblebee set Raf on the floor so he could transform into his alt mode.

Before Jack climbed into Bee's alt mode with Raf, he looked back at us. "See you tomorrow," he said to us in farewell, and climbed into Bee's alt mode a few micro-klicks before the scout drove out of the entrance tunnel.

After they left, I looked at Wildwing and saw that his optics would droop until they were closed in exhaustion for a moment before he snapped his optics open again. He was quickly fading into recharge. "What are our recharge arrangements for Wildwing?" I asked Arcee, and nodded my helm in the direction of the mechling in need of recharge.

Arcee looked at Wildwing for a moment before looking back at me. "We don't have any recharge arrangements for him, split custody?" She asked jokingly, using the human term since Cybertronians have never had something like divorce.

I shook my helm slightly at her joke. "Alright, he'll recharge in my quarters this cycle and then he'll recharge in your quarters next cycle, agreed?" I asked. After Arcee nodded in agreement, I walked over to where Wildwing continued to try and stay online and watch Miko play her guitar and picked up the half recharging mechling.

"Hey, I was playing for him," Miko said with her hands on her hips as she looked up at me in annoyance.

I looked down at Miko. "Sorry, but if you haven't noticed, Wildwing here is struggling to stay online. He's going to need to get some recharge," I said, and started walking down the hallway toward my quarters.

"But I was watching Miko play," Wildwing tried protesting tiredly, which only proved my point that he needed recharge.

"I bet she'll play for you next cycle, Wildwing. Isn't that right, Miko?" I asked the energetic girl over my shoulder-joint.

"Of course I will!" I heard her reply happily. A micro-klick after she said this, I heard her ask someone, "Why does Shadowstreaker care if Wildwing needs recharge?" She likely asked Bulkhead this.

I knew the Wrecker would explain to Miko the roles Arcee and I had to play in Wildwing's life until he was reunited with his creators, so I didn't bother going back and answering Miko's question. I noticed that Wildwing had already fallen into recharge while in my servos.

At that moment it hit me at that I was basically this sparkling's sire until his actual creators arrived. Even though Wildwing's creators were likely going to get to Earth in only a couple of mega-cycles, that prospect was still terrifying. It was terrifying because I never planned on being responsible for the life of a child as an eighteen-year-old human, let alone a member of a different race and one of the temporary care-takers of a Cybertronian sparkling.

I brought myself out of my thoughts when I heard the door to my quarters open automatically. Once the door was open I stepped into my quarters and set Wildwing down on my berth.

Wildwing stirred slightly, but didn't online as I set him down on the berth. He just snuggled into the massive pillow I set his helm on and continued his recharge.

I turned to leave Wildwing to his recharge when I saw a stack of data pads on my desk that weren't there earlier. With a curious look on my faceplate, I walked over and grabbed the smallest data pad that was on the top of the stack and started reading it. Almost immediately I narrowed my optics in both annoyance and displeasure.

Prowl had found that I had yet to write a mission report, so he'd taken the liberty of giving me the task of writing up a report for every mission I had gone on so far... And he wanted them on his desk by morning.

'Well slag,' I thought with a sigh as I set the data pad off to the side. I took a seat at my desk so I'd just get this over with. I picked up the first data pad from the stack and started work on my reports.

* * *

><p>It took me almost half a breem to finish each report. Prowl has unbelievably meticulous expectations when it comes to reports. By the time I had finished my last report, it was a quarter to four in the morning. That was only one and a half breems before I usually onlined for the cycle, which meant I might as well not even try and get any recharge.<p>

I sighed as I finished off the cube of energon I had just gotten from the dispenser above my desk. I could already tell this was going to be a very long cycle. Luckily, Wildwing hadn't onlined at all after he went into recharge, which was good considering I would have been completely clueless as to how to calm down a sparkling that just had a nightmare.

"Did you just online as well?" I heard Wildwing ask. He must have onlined while I was drinking my energon. He had, after all, been recharging for almost six breems, which was the equivalent of a human sleeping for almost nine hours.

"No, I didn't get any recharge." I said, trying not to sound as tired as I was at the moment while I got out of my chair to pick up the mechling.

Wildwing tilted his helm curiously. "Why not?" He asked as I picked him up.

"Because I needed to get some stuff done before I could get recharge, and it took longer than I thought it would." I explained as we entered the hallway and started toward the ops center.

"That doesn't sound fun," Wildwing said, his sparkling logic was likely confused why anyone would put off recharge to do something that wasn't fun.

"No it wasn't fun, but I had to get it done." I said, and widened my optics slightly in shock as I saw Optimus standing in the ops center when we entered the room. It was like he never recharged.

Something out of my line of sight caught Wildwing's attention. "What's that?" he asked and pointed a digit at what had caught his optic as he had when he asked what the helicopter pad was.

I saw that it was the TV holding his curiosity. "That's called a Television. It's used for entertainment by humans," I said. When Wildwing kept his optics on it for a few more micro-klicks I asked, "Would you like me to turn it on?"

Wildwing nodded enthusiastically. In the short time he was on Earth he was curious about almost anything human-made.

I set Wildwing down on the catwalk next to the couch and turned the TV on to the Discovery Channel, making sure I didn't accidentally knock it over as I hit the power button. Wildwing looked fascinated as he watched TV. Whether he was fascinated by it was because of what was on the TV, or simply how it worked I don't know.

After I turned the TV on for Wildwing, I walked over to where Optimus stood in front of the workstation.

"You did not get any recharge," Optimus stated matter-of-factly, not even turning to look at me as I approached. Optimus had spoken without a trace of fatigue in his voice.

"No, Prowl had me write up reports about the missions I've been on so far. He wanted to know everything down to how many shots I fired in a mission. How the frag am I supposed to know that?" I spoke in a frustrated and tired tone, though still being careful not to let Wildwing hear me curse.

Optimus looked at me after I said this. "You will have to forgive Prowl. The amount of detail he requests in reports can be a bit excessive at times." The Prime said atoningly.

"Sorry, I'm a bit angry that I had to write reports instead of get recharge," I said with a sigh.

"That is understandable given the unexpected task you and Arcee have been given. Being a temporary care-taker can cause a large amount of stress," Optimus said in an understanding way, as if he had once been in the same situation as Arcee and I.

"You've been a temporary care-taker yourself, haven't you?" I asked with a bit of surprise.

Optimus nodded. "I was, more than once in fact."

"Were you a care-taker to any Bots that I've heard of?" I asked.

Optimus smiled faintly as he said, "At one point I was Bumblebee's care-taker for more than an orbital-cycle, as well as Bulkhead's for several jours."

I raised my optic ridges in surprise. "I can see you being Bumblebee's temporary care-taker since he's young by our standards, but I've heard Bulkhead talk about Cybertron before the war. That would mean that you were his temporary care-taker long before that. Just how old are you Optimus?" I asked with genuine curiosity.

"I was beginning my one-thousandth centi-vorn when I became Bulkhead's temporary care-taker. It was another six-hundred centi-vorns before the war began and I became Bumblebee's care-taker. It has been eight-thousand three-hundred centi-vorns since Cybertron was evacuated." Optimus said in a rather off-handed manner.

My optics widened so much that I'm surprised they stayed in my helm. I know that the Thirteen were ancient before time was being measured by the rest of the Cybertronian race, but finding out that every single of your fellow Autobots were literary several million times older than you was shocking.

"Are you malfunctioning?" Optimus asked dryly. He unknowingly was quoting Prima when I first met the Thirteen.

I forced the shocked look off my faceplate. "No, I'm just shocked that compared any one of the Autobots on Earth I might as well be a new-born sparkling," I said a bit morosely.

"Humans judge others by their physical age, Shadowstreaker, it is by mental maturity that Cybertronians define others. Among humans you are young, but among Cybertronians you are the same age as we are," Optimus said, subtly complementing my maturity.

"You and everyone else at base knows that I hate complements, Optimus." I said with a slight huff. I was irritated my Optimus' complement for the simple reason that it was directed at me.

"Your unwillingness to accept complements is a sign of humility, which in itself is a sign of maturity." Optimus pointed out, much to my annoyance.

I sighed at Optimus' words and was about to speak again when I felt something small climb up my backplates and on to my helm.

Optimus' optics focused on the top of my helm and looked amused by whatever he saw as he chuckled lightly.

Wildwing's faceplate suddenly appeared upside-down in the top of my vision. "You're really tall," he said the moment he appeared in my vision.

I looked up without moving my helm. "Wildwing... Why are you on my helm?" I asked.

"Because I like heights and you said I couldn't go up to the support beams," the seekerlet said in the cheerful and happy manner he had used most of the short time he had been at base.

"Well, can you get off please?" I asked the mechling with a smile.

Wildwing tilted his helm at me, "Why?" He asked.

"Because I can't move with you on my helm," I explained patiently, and brought a servo up next to Wildwing so he could climb off my helm.

"Okay," Wildwing said, and climbed off his temporary perch and into my servo.

Once Wildwing was in my servo, I lowered him on to the catwalk next to the workstation. And not a moment too soon if you ask me, as my optics drooped involuntarily and I shook my helm to get rid of the sudden tiredness I felt. I mentally blamed Prowl and his reports for my fatigue.

"You should get a few breems of recharge to keep your systems from being sluggish for the rest of the cycle," Optimus said after he noticed my optics drooping.

I shook my helm. "I usually online for the cycle about a breem from now, so I decided not to even bother recharging this cycle." I replied.

"Your frame is not used to functioning without recharge. If you are going to put off recharge, then I recommend that you at least find an unharmful way of keeping yourself online," Optimus advised.

I took note of Optimus' words. "Showers always helped me wake in the morning as a human. Could you look after Wildwing so I can go to the washracks?" I asked, as I watched Wildwing examine the workstation curiously. He seemed to be fascinated by everything he hadn't seen before.

"Of course. I will let Wildwing know where you went so he doesn't panic," Optimus said with a nod.

I gave Optimus a grateful look and walked back down the hallway toward the washracks.

Since the washracks were much further away from the ops center than my quarters, it took me much longer to get there. By the time I reached the washracks, my optics were drooping again even as I walked. I was really going to enjoy recharging tonight.

The door to the washracks opened for me as I stepped toward it, the sight that greeted me made my optics double in size while they sizzled and sparked... Arcee in her protoform.

Only a micro-klick passed before I backtracked out of the washracks and nearly slammed my backplates against the wall outside the doorway, but it was enough time for my perspective CPU to see everything that wasn't obscured by steam.

"Man, _that_ sight is_ really_ going to help me get over my stupid crush on Arcee," I said to myself sarcastically.

Arcee had been facing away from me when the door opened, and she was beginning to turn around when I made my hasty retreat. So I actually didn't see most of the um... important bits, but that didn't make this situation any less awkward.

I could practically feel Arcee glaring at me through the wall as my cooling fans kicked into overdrive. "You should really lock the door when you or Moonracer are using the washracks." I spoke in an embarrassed voice that was just loud enough for Arcee to hear. 'Especially you' I added to myself silently.

There was a very long and awkward silence. Well, awkward on my end. Arcee was probably considering several different ways of sending me into stasis lock. The silence continued long enough for my cooling fans to deactivate before one of us spoke.

"How much did you see?" Arcee said calmly, but with a hidden tone of fury behind her voice.

I thought for a long time about my answer. Should I answer truthfully? Should I lie so she doesn't offline me? Should I just innocently reply 'See what?' and hope for the best? No, that would be a bad idea. Was there a way out of this? Did she really want to know? Or was this trick question? Like no matter what I said I was still going to be in the med-bay with life threatening injuies for mega-cycles.

I took so long in replying, that Arcee repeated her question. "What... Did you... See?" Arcee's tone was still calm, but the way she said that promised pain and suffering if I didn't answer soon.

"Well... Um... I saw... Stuff," my response was slow, sheepish and awkward, but considering the situation, I couldn't help it.

"Stuff?" Arcee asked in her eerily calm tone.

I paused, deciding whether I should back up my own answer. "Yeah... Stuff," I finally said.

Another pause, this time from Arcee. "Well what kind of... Stuff?" she asked after the short silence.

'Enough to keep me up for the next mega-cycle' I thought before I spoke. "Well ah..." My cooling fans reactivated with a vengeance as I had to recall what I had seen not too long ago. "I saw that... Part below your backplates," I said awkwardly.

Arcee paused briefly again. "Okay, how 'bout anything in the ah... Frontal region?" she asked, with a tiny trace of her own awkwardness.

Arcee's words made my cooling fans start running at a rate that might make them overheat. Oh the irony. "I had already retreated to where I currently stand before you turned around," I said truthfully. "If I hadn't, I would have glitched and be on the washrack floor right now," I added to myself silently.

"Are we in agreement that we should never speak of this moment again?" Arcee asked. I didn't need to see her to know that she had her optics narrowed dangerously as she spoke.

"Yes, yes we are," I said, and nodded my helm in agreement even though she couldn't see me.

"Good, now this is what you are going to do. You are going to step far enough away from the doorway so that the door automatically closes. I will then lock the door from in here, and you will go somewhere else until I have left the washracks, and then we will both forget this ever happened, got it?" Arcee instructed in the deathly calm tone she had used since we started our conversation.

"Got it," was my quick response just before I walked straight back the way I had come from earlier, but instead of going back to the ops center, I made a beeline for the elevator so I could go down to the Safe.

I made it to the elevator in record time and hit the button for the Safe. As the elevator started its downward journey, I was mentally beating myself up over the situation that just occurred.

'You dumbaft! All that awkwardness could have been avoided if you just went to get recharge!' I berated myself. Then again, there was no way I could have known who was in the washracks when I went to them.

'Well at least the view was nice...' I Gibbs slapped that thought out of my CPU before it could fully form. I wasn't going to be able to forget what I had seen, my CPU wouldn't let me, but I wasn't going to make a habit of recalling it. I knew that some mechs would have offlined someone to see what I just saw. Other mechs would never look at Arcee the same way if they had just been in my situation, always flashing back to what they had accidently seen, but I wasn't most mechs was I?

I was briefly interrupted when the elevator doors opened up when it reached the Safe, I quickly left the elevator and walked toward the weapons range for target practice.

I was going to pretend that I had never seen Arcee in the washracks, and hope that would be enough to quell any lingering awkwardness between us.

'Of course that will be enough...' Was the sarcastic thought I formed in response to my own words.

With that last thought, I deployed my Scatter-Blaster and started to get some target practice.

* * *

><p><strong>I'd call walking in on your secret crush as she's taking a shower awkward... Very awkward... Apocalyptically awkward. <strong>

**Can you picture Optimus being the temporary care-taker of Bulkhead and Bumblebee? I know I can since he seems to be have the father/older brother effect on the other Bots except for Ratchet.**

**This chapter's credit song is... I don't know. I couldn't find a song that suited this chapter so... Just listen to something you like. On that note, does anyone listen to the songs I list? Because I choose each song so it fits how I ended each chapter.**

**Please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.**


	14. The Dream and The General

***Looks around tentatively* Hey... Been a bit longer than usual hasn't it? I'm really sorry about the late update, I'm even going to make an excuse. I hate not updating for awhile especially when I didn't even give anyone who's reading this a heads up :/ Again I'm sorry, but I have the longest chapter I've ever written to make up for the late update. **

**Thanks again to Crystal Prime for beta reading. For anyone who reads Crystal Prime's story 'Its A Prime Adventure' this next thing I'm going to talk about is not going news to you, but to those who don't read her stories. She and I are having a chapter where our stories crossover, it _will_ be awesome. That is all I can say that isn't classified above top secret *Puts on dark sunglasses and black suit* Nothing to see here... Move along.**

**anissa - Nice to know you're not mad that it's going to take me awhile to get to writing your idea. But I think you'll like my plan.**

**KayleeChiara - Doesn't seem incoherent to me :) I am glad that you're enjoying my story. I believe *And always will* that character development was my main weak point, so to hear that you like how I'm treating the characters means that I'm doing something right. Thank you very much. Hopefully I won't take two weeks to update next time. **

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for my story and my OCs.**

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><p><strong><em>Unknown Time<em>**

**_Unknown Place_**

_I pulled one of my swords out of the Decepticon Brute I just offlined and prepared for my next opponents._

_Two Decepticon ground soldiers tried double-teaming me. One of them was carrying an Energon Staff, and the other had a katana-like sword that he was swinging towards my helm._

_I ducked under the sword-wielding Decepticon's attack and rushed towards the Con with the staff. The Decepticon with the staff tried dodging to his left, but I was too fast._

_Within a micro-klick, I had severed the lower half of the Decepticon's servo that held the staff with my left sword, and stabbed the Con through the chestplates and straight into his spark with my right one. He was offlined instantly._

_Sensing movement behind me, I swung the sword that was still impaling the Decepticon, and sent his offlined chassis flying into the sword-wielding Con. It slammed into him with enough force to knock him to the ground._

_The second Decepticon tossed the offlined chassis of his comrade off him and was back on his pedes in an instant. The Con gave a battle cry and charged at me with his sword held over his helm._

_I didn't respond to the Decepticon's words as he charged toward me. I calmly side-stepped his attack and swung a sword at his helm as he ran past. His chassis fell to the ground minus his helm, as well as a servo my sword severed when I swung. I heard the unmistakable sound of a helicopter approaching from behind me just before a charged Plasma Cannon blast hit the right side of my backplates. The blast didn't cause anything more than superficial damage, but the force behind the blast forced me to turn one-hundred eighty degrees and look at my attacker._

_A Decepticon using a Pave Low helicopter as his alt mode was my latest attacker judging by the modified Plasma Cannon hanging from the bottom of his alt mode. He changed into his true form while in mid-air and when he landed it shook the ground. The Decepticon looked almost exactly like Blackout from the Transformers film, but Instead of M134 Miniguns on his servos this Con had two tri-barreled Plasma Cannons, and he stood at least four times my height._

_"Little Autobot must be destroyed," the Decepticon spoke in a deep baritone voice that lacked an average level of intelligencs. He was just the Brute that was only unleashed to destroy everything in his way._

_The Decepticon started charging up his Plasma Cannons, and I began going through my options._

_I had fired so many shots over the course of this battle that my energon levels were dangerously low, so I couldn't deploy my Ion Displacer or my Nucleon. I also had long run out of missiles, since I had used my last two on a Decepticon seeker. I had only two options. One, make a break for it and dodge the Con's shots until I found cover. Or, option two, rush the massive Decepticon and attack him from below. Option two seemed like my best chance._

_As the Deception continued to charge his Plasma Cannons, I rushed forward and started hacking at everything I was able to get at. Armor, wires, pistions, gears, you name it, I was attacking it with my swords, but it didn't seem to have much of an effect on the colossal being._

_"Little Autobot annoying," the Decepticon boomed, and simply punted me away from him._

_I was sent sailing through the air and traveled well over a hundred meters before I was stopped by the side of the canyon where the Decepticons and I had been waging our small war._

_I was very slow in getting back up. My armor had already been weakened by dozens of Decepticon weapons as they landed countless hits all over my chassis. Hitting the side of the canyon was the last straw. I was now leaking energon from multiple wounds, and my left shoulder-joint was starting to stiffen up from all the abuse this battle had put it through. I tried getting back to my pedes, but my battered frame could only manage to get into a kneeling position. I knew I was starting to go into stasis lock when my optics began to close against my will._

_A few Decepticons that were watching my battle with the titan from the sidelines saw this and laughed cruelly. One of them said something I couldn't hear, but I somehow knew it was directed toward me._

_I don't know what the Con said, but I suddenly felt white hot rage build up within me, and I heard myself give a primal roar of anger. I was back on my pedes in an instant and was no longer in full control of my chassis. I ignored the Decepticon that just punted me, and searched for the Con who had spoken. The nano-klick I saw the Decepticons standing off to the side, I rushed toward them at a far greater speed than I should have been able to obtain._

_The Decepticons looked at me in pure terror as I approached. Some of them even ran in the opposite direction in an attempt to flee, but that wouldn't save them._

_I leapt into the air with both my swords raised over my helm in preparation for offlining the nearest Decepticon... it was at this moment that I onlined._

* * *

><p><strong>July 5, 2012 5:11 A.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

I sat bolt-upright in my berth while I instinctually deployed one of my swords. A few micro-klicks of sitting on my berth and looking around later, I realized that I just had a very vivid dream. It was a good thing that Wildwing was with Arcee last solar-cycle, my sudden movement would have shaken him from recharge. He would have been terrified if he saw me sitting upright with one of my swords deployed for no reason.

I returned my servo to normal while I got up off the berth and walked to my desk. My internal clock read that it was only a few klicks before I usually onlined for the cycle anyway, so there was no reason for me to just sit on my berth.

Picking up one of my cubes from the desk, I put it under the dispenser so it would fill with energon. As the dispenser started to fill my cube, I puzzled over the dream I just had.

Dreams are a regular occurrence in both the human race as well as the Cybertronian race. I was one of the few that had dreams as both races. When I became a Cybertronian several jours ago, and Ratchet explained Cybertronian physiology to me, he also explained how our dreams were different from those of my former race.

Human dreams are very rarely clear. Most of the time their dreams are a jumbled mess of information that their subconscious mind is feeding to them based from the day's events. Humans often don't even know they are dreaming until the dream is over and they wake up, or in most cases they don't even remember they had a dream.

Cybertronian dreams, however, are virtually the opposite of human dreams. Instead of a jumbled mess of information, Cybertronians have very clear and ordered dreams that review certain situations from the previous cycle. Or, in some cases, they relive memories both sad and happy from an earlier time in their lives. Sparkmated Cybertronians share their dreams, and also have the ability to experience and relive each other's memories while they dream. If they want to, they can relive these memories from their sparkmate's point of view, and feel what they felt when that memory occurred.

I noticed that the dispenser had filled my cube and automatically turned itself off, a feature that prevented any energon being wasted.

I took a sip from my now full cube and went back to pondering my dream. The strangest thing about my dream was just how real it seemed to be. I felt my swords slicing through the armor of the Decepticons in my dream. I felt the pain of the Plasma Cannon blast and impacting the side of the canyon, and the feeling of energon leaking out of my frame was still fresh in my CPU.

But most of all, I had felt the primal rage at the very end of the dream. When that rage surged up within me at the end, I had no control. Normally that wouldn't bother me since it was a dream and you usually don't have control over dreams, but I had full control over my movements up until that moment. Why was that dream so life-like? Why did I completely lose control when that last Decepticon spoke? What had the Con even said that got me so enraged? Was the Decepticon really talking to me?

I shook my helm, thinking about what a fake Decepticon said in my dream was like arguing against Optimus' logic, pointless. I waited until I finished my cube and set it back on the desk before I left my quarters and headed for the washracks.

The hallway was unsurprisingly empty when I left my quarters. I looked directly accross the hall at the control panel of Arcee's quarters. It seemed that she and Wildwing were still recharging since the light on the control panel was red.

'Good, there won't be a repeat of last mega-cycle's incident,' I thought, as I walked toward the washracks. Not much had happened since I accidently caught Arcee in the washracks. There had only been one skirmish with the Cons over some energon and a small weapons cache. Optimus, Bulkhead, Prowl and Bumblebee won the skirmish and recovered the energon and weapons cache. There were only a couple dozen energon storage crates and just few Neutron Assault Rifles that still worked, so the spoils of that skirmish weren't significant.

I noticed I was getting close to the washracks and walked off to the side before the door opened. Arcee may be recharging, but I didn't know where Moonracer was, and as much Ratchet would deny it he would be uber-pissed if I saw Moonracer in the washrack. Not to mention Moonracer herself being uber-pissed if I saw her in the washrack.

I leaned against the wall outside the washrack as the door automatically opened. "Hello? anyone in there?" I called around the corner. Complete silence was the only response. Now that I knew no one was in the washracks, I stepped around the corner, picked a stall off to the side and turned on the water.

* * *

><p>Forty klicks later, I snapped the last piece of my recently cleaned armor back into place as I left the washracks. I had taken more time in the washrack than usual simply because I enjoyed showers. Knowing it was almost my turn to watch Wildwing, I started walking toward the ops center.<p>

I saw Prowl step out of the bot-sized elevator with a data pad in his servo, and then walk right by me as he headed towards his own quarters.

It had almost been two jours since Prowl and Moonracer joined us on Earth. In that time I had never seen Prowl smile, make a joke, laugh even slightly, or leave base just to go for a relaxing drive. Prowl was a hidden enigma. To most who spoke with the black and white mech he was just stoic and incredibly serious all the time. But to me, that in itself begged the question of why. I got the feeling that an event in Prowl's life was the cause of all his seriousness and complete disinterest with anything except reports and keeping order at base.

I continued walking toward the ops center and made a mental note to ask Prowl at some point why he was so stoic all the time. I heard the sounds of a race being played in the Xbox from the ops center and as I got closer I heard a crash followed by an outburst.

"Damn it Miko! Stop sending me into the wall!" the frustrated voice of Jack yelled.

'Wildwing better not be within hearing distance for his sake,' I thought. The phrase 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' applied to the Cybertronian race as well, Arcee and Moonracer were no exception. Curse once within a hundred meters of Wildwing, and you will find yourself on the receiving end of their wrath. Ratchet had done this a few solar-cycles ago. After he was scolded by Moonracer and Arcee out of Wildwing's hearing range, he hadn't uttered a single curse, not even when Wildwing was recharging.

"But it's so much fun to make people crash," I heard Miko reply to Jack's words in a smug tone. She would try and send everyone into the wall when playing Forza, but since Jack would get frustrated the easiest by hitting the wall, she made a considerable effort to send Jack into the wall as much as possible.

I entered the ops center and saw that Bulkhead, Bumblebee and Raf were watching Jack and Miko play each other. Ratchet was standing at the workstation and was looking annoyed by the yelling between Miko and Jack. Jack spoke again as I started walking over to watch the race between Miko and him.

"It's not how you play the game though," Jack argued. This was their usual conversation when they played Foza. It would start when Miko sent Jack into the wall, then Jack would then get frustrated about how much Miko cheated. It would usually stop at that, at least until Miko sent Jack into the wall again and then they would repeat.

An alarm sounded from the workstation before I had finished walking over to the others. I stopped and changed direction to walk toward Ratchet and the workstation.

"Peculiar," I heard Ratchet say under his breath. He started typing commands into the workstation as I stepped up next to him.

The face of Agent Fowler appeared on the main screen. Judging from the background noise, he must have been sitting in a helicopter.

_"Prime!"_ Agent Fowler yelled almost immediately. He looked at Ratchet and I for a few micro-klicks before speaking again. "Where's Prime?" he asked with a bit of urgency in his voice.

"He is in his quarters, Agent Fowler," Ratchet responded formally, but I could hear the annoyance he was trying to keep out of his voice.

The others had just enough time to join us at the workstation before Fowler spoke again.

_"Well then, I'll just have to talk with him in person, this is call has to be short. I'm certain you remember that terrorist group, MECH. Well, I've finally found someone who's heard of them, and you all need to hear what he has to say about MECH's leader. He and I are riding aboard his personal helicopter on the way to your base. Our ETA is twenty minutes. Fowler out,"_ the government agent cut the link on his end.

"That was rude, he barely even let you say anything!" Miko said, and narrowed her eyes at the part of the screen Fowler had just occupied.

I turned to look at Miko, "He did say that his call had to be short," I said with a shrug.

"We need to inform the others of Agent Fowler's incoming vist," Ratchet said with obvious displeasure directed at the government agent, even if Fowler wasn't here yet. His optics dimmed slightly, which meant that he had opened a private channel with someone, likely Optimus or Moonracer.

I was about to comm-link Arcee when I felt the small form of Wildwing climb up my pedes and backplates and came to rest on top of my helm.

"Hi!" he said enthusiastically as he appeared in the top of my vision. Climbing on to my helm was now a regular occurrence for Wildwing when he entered the ops center. It wasn't like he was doing anything harmful. I had to admit that it was funny, so I let him climb on my helm when he wanted.

I chuckled before looking up at the mechling. "Hello Wildwing, how was your recharge?" I asked, as I offered a servo to Wildwing so he could get back down.

"Great! Arcee told me a story before I went into recharge!" Wildwing said happily, and climbed on to my servo

Arcee stepped next to me as I set Wildwing on the catwalk in front of the workstation. The mechling quickly ran over to Miko as she stood next to Jack and Raf.

"Two things Arcee," I began, and looked at her. "First, Agent Fowler contacted us saying he finally found someone who's heard of that human terrorist group you encountered a few mega-cycles ago. Agent Fowler and this person he found are going to arrive at base in about twenty klicks. Second, what story did you tell Wildwing? It looks like he's telling it to Miko, Raf and Jack as well," I said, and watched the silver and blue seekerlet describe something to the humans.

"I hope that whoever Fowler is bringing to base can tell us where MECH came from. They could be a real problem. As for the story I told him, well, when I was a sparkling, my sisters used to tell me this story called 'Guardian Prime'. It's about a fictional Prime that sacrifices himself to save an alien world from destruction. It was one of the most popular sparkling stories back before the war. He apparently had never heard it before," Arcee said, and put a servo on her hip as she watched Wildwing tell the humans the story she told him earlier.

"Well, it seems that he liked it," I said, as Wildwing started making gestures with his servos as he told the story to the humans.

Arcee and I watched Wildwing tell the story to Miko, Jack and Raf until Optimus, Prowl and Moonracer entered the ops center.

"Ratchet tell you that Fowler is coming here?" I asked Optimus, as he went to stand to off to my right.

"Yes," the Prime said to me simply, and looked at Miko, Jack, Raf and Wildwing. "It would be best if you were not present while we speak with Agent Fowler, especially Wildwing. You will need to avoid the ops center for the time being," Optimus said to them. He then walked over Ratchet and began a conversation with the medic that likely was about our impending visit from Fowler.

Seeing that this wasn't something that could be argued, the humans and Wildwing got off the catwalk and started walking toward the hallway.

As Wildwing followed the humans out of the ops center, there weren't any sounds other than his narrative as he told the humans the story Arcee told him. Optimus and Ratchet were the only ones who spoke as we waited for the proximity sensor to signal the arrival of Agent Fowler and his guest. It wasn't long before an alarm sounded from the workstation. Fowler was here.

Ratchet tapped a single key on the workstation and the main screen began to show a live feed from a security camera up topside.

A Pave Low helicopter of the same model as to the one in my dream was in the process of landing on the helicopter pad. But that was the only similarity this helicopter shared with the one from my dream.

The Pave Low was colored black, almost the same shade of my armor, midnight black. The angles on the helicopter were sharper, as if they were designed to limit the radar cross section of the massive helicopter, like a F-117 Nighthawk only on a larger scale. The strangest thing about the helicopter was that instead of having fuel tanks strapped to either side of the Pave Low, there were unusual looking missile pods. Along the side the missile pods were high-caliber autocannons, likely chambered with twenty or thirty millimeter rounds. The immense transport helicopter was more heavily armed than most fast attack helicopters. Overall, the helicopter breathed an 'Don't mess with me' air that would strike terror into those that opposed it, and inspire its allies while telling them that rescue had just arrived.

As the helicopter landed, I narrowed my optics at the screen and I could faintly see the initials 'S.T.F 141' painted just below the tail rotor. I didn't have time to ponder what that could mean before the helicopter finally landed. Almost immediately two human silhouettes appeared from the back ramp while the rotors were still winding down over their heads.

I recognized Agent Fowler's silhouette, but the other was unfamiliar. I could tell by his posture that he was a military man through and through. He kept his back straight as an arrow while he followed Agent Fowler toward the human elevator. Each step he took was measured and precise.

"This should be interesting," Arcee commented, as the two humans disappeared out of the camera's sight and Ratchet cut the feed.

"Indeed," I said in response, as I turned to watch the elevator approach.

The elevator stopped at our level. Agent Fowler stepped out and was followed by a man who made me stiffen and flinch ever so slightly when I recognized him. My reaction to seeing the human Fowler brought to base was almost impossible for a human to see, but I saw Arcee give me a look that said she saw my reaction.

The person who stepped out of the elevator with Fowler was only a hair shorter than the government agent standing at about six foot three. He appeared to be in his mid to late fifties with a chevron mustache that was starting to fade from its original brown color to grey. He wore a standard army ACU with two shoulder-patches identifying him as a member of the Airborne. A black beret with three silver stars on the front of it that both signified his rank of a lieutenant general, and covered his greying brown hair that was in a buzz cut. A holster -that held a .44 Magnum- was strapped to his hip, alongside two pouches that could either hold ammo for the massive handgun on his hip or some small electric devices.

"Autobots, this is Lieutenant General Lance Shepherd," Fowler said to all of us and gestured to the man next to him.

I didn't need the introduction Fowler gave to know who was standing next to the government agent. General Shepherd was a character from Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, someone who shouldn't exist in this reality, someone who I wasn't sure if we could trust. But I couldn't say anything without having to explain my origins to the general, so I just kept up my best poker face and stayed silent.

Agent Fowler continued, "General Shepherd, these are the Autobots. Optimus Prime, their leader. Prowl, their SIC. Ratchet, their chief medical officer and engineer. Moonracer, their second medic and primary sniper. Arcee, their TIC. Shadowstreaker, their heavy weapons specialist and currently their only triple-changer. Bulkhead, their armorer. And Bumblebee, their scout." Fowler pointed at each of us when he said our names. We had told Fowler of my origins and new name not long after Megatron was offlined, so I wasn't surprised when he introduced me to the general by my Cybertronian name. "I'll let you take it from here general," Fowler said to Shepherd, and walked off to the side.

General Shepherd stepped up the railing and looked at each of us with intelligent ice-blue eyes. "It's an honor to meet you all," he said honestly. He sounded just like the actor who voiced him in the game, Lance Henriksen.

"Likewise general," Optimus said, and gave the general a polite nod. "Now, I was informed that you know of the human group called MECH?" he asked, likely wanting to know everything that the general knew about the terrorist group.

Shepherd opened one of the pouches next to the .44 Magnum on his hip, and pulled out a device similar to a smart phone or PDA, but smaller since it fit neatly into his palm. "Would it be possible to link this to your main screen?" the general asked Ratchet, and held up the device in his hand.

Ratchet took a few steps closer to the general and scanned the device in the human's hand. To Shepherd it looked like he was making sure the device would work with our computer systems, I could tell that Ratchet was actually making sure there were no viruses in the device.

"Yes, yes, I believe so," Ratchet said to the general without his usual annoyance. He walked over to the workstation andtyped in a few commands. A moment later, the main screen changed its background to a simple desktop that only had labled files on it. Ratchet had linked Shepherd's device to the main screen.

"Thank you Ratchet." General Shepherd said gratefully, missing the slightly surprised look on the medic's facplate at being thanked. Shepherd pulled a pen out of his already opened pouch that looked like it belonged with the device in his hand. "Before I start talking about MECH, there are a few things I need to inform you of," Shepherd said, and tapped the screen of his PDA.

The main sceen changed from a desktop to a old news report about an attack on a military base in the middle-east, Shepherd continued. "As you already know, the Decepticons attacked one of our military bases three years ago. Five hundred and thirty-six men were killed. That number would have been far higher if you Autobots hadn't come to our defense. The Pentagon didn't want an attack like that to happen again. They made me the commanding officer of the newly reformed 141st Special Operations Division, which they renamed 'The Special Tasks Force of the 141st Division' or abbreviated 'S.T.F 141' for short. The members of S.T.F 141 are multi-national consisting of special forces groups from multiple countries. Apart from combat, our primary field is technological research, armor, aircraft, warships, alternative fuels and weapons. We are particularly interested in researching effective human weapons against Decepticon forces," Shepherd paused and looked up at Optimus. He was waiting to see if Prime would be angry that humans were making weapons that were effective against the Decepticons. We were the same race as the Cons, any human weapon effective against them would be effective against us.

I was torn between being angry at my former race for lying to us and making weapons that potentially could harm us, or being proud of them for wanting to defend themselves from the Cons.

Optimus spoke to the general in a neutral tone. "We advised your government not to get involved in our war. The fact your government has made effective weapons against the Decepticons can only mean that they wish to become involved." Optimus' voice held no anger, he's never one to lose his temper.

"I said effective human weapons Optimus Prime. Even the lowest quality armor you have makes titanium look like wet paper, and compared to the firepower the smallest of your weapons pack, our rifles might as well be shooting spit-balls. The U.S government and the few other governments that know of your existence doesn't want to get fully involved. The multi-national S.T.F 141 is the most involvement their willing to get themselves into." General Shepherd's response was almost on par with Optimus' in how calm it was.

"Nevertheless, this is our war not yours. The human race is still trying to sort their own differences. Getting involved in a war that predates your own history more than a thousand fold could very well destroy your species." Optimus argued calmly, I could tell he cared more about the humans wanting to get involved with our war than the weapons they were developing.

"Earth is the cradle of humanity. We want to defend our home. The human race will fight wars even when we know we cannot win them. We're stubborn like that," Shepherd countered Optimus' words, again with a calm that was similar to the Prime's.

'What is this? Battle of the epic voices?' I thought, as I looked back and forth between Optimus and General Shepherd. Neither of them had changed the level of their voices or their tones, and both were adamant in their opinions. Optimus was against human involvement in our war with the Decepticons, while General Shepherd wanted humanity to at least assist in defending Earth even with their technological disadvantage.

"Those five hundred and thirty six human casualties from the Decepticon attack on your military base will be a mere fraction of the casualties the human race will sustain if you enter our war," Optimus said, obviously concerned that the human race could find itself involved in a war worse than any they had faced before.

General Shepherd paused as he seemed mull over Optimus' words. "Casualties are a part of war, everyone in the S.T.F 141 are ready to die defending our world. As for how many casualties we sustain, we have learned since the Decepticons attacked us three years ago," Shepherd said, and worked for a moment on the PDA he held.

The main screen was now showing a picture of what looked like UCAV, but I didn't recognize the model. The UCAV was the same shade of black as the Pave Low topside. It was made for stealth. Next to the aircraft on the screen was a picture of an adult human for scale. Judging by how small the human was compared to the UCAV, the plane had a wingspan of about two hundred feet.

Shepherd spoke again. "This is the X-47C, it's an unmanned aircraft that can hold enough missiles to start its own war. We can adapt its payload for an air superiority mission, ground support or simply just drop bombs. S.T.F 141 has thirty of these currently in service, with another thirty in production." General Shepherd didn't have much more to say about the X-47 and tapped the screen on his PDA again.

The main screen changed again. Now it showed a picture of a bulky rifle. A large ammo-drum was fitted behind the trigger of the rifle in a bullpup configuration, an ACOG scope was attached to a rail on the top of the rifle. The rifle had what looked like a miniature version of the missile pods I had seen on General Shepherd's Pave Low strapped under the barrel like a M203.

"An underslung missile launcher? Isn't that a bit impractical?" I asked Shepherd with a raised optic ridge. I was being polite since I had no clue if this General Shepherd was like his counterpart in Modern Warfare 2, and was secretly planning to betray us.

General Shepherd looked at me in slight surprise. "You saw the missile pods on my helicopter," he said, more of a statement than a question.

I nodded, "Yes, strange things to have on a transport helicopter general." I put my servos behind my backplates after I said this.

"Usually it wouldn't even be possible with that model helicopter. But thanks to some modifications we made to the engine, we can fit a number of weapons on any type of helicopter with the same modifications," Shepherd said to me. Then he turned back to the screen and said, "The rifle you see on screen has been designated the 'M-320A' by our S.F.T 141 engineers. Its primary ammunition is 7.62 by 53 mm sabot rounds loaded into an eighty round drum. Thanks to a few plates of Decepticon armor we recovered, we have found that sabot rounds are reasonably effective against their low-end armor, but still require unloading the entire drum into the same armor piece to do any noticeable damage. As Shadowstreaker already saw, the M-320A also had an underslung micro-missile launcher that holds eight missiles. Each missile could take out any un upgraded human tank in existence, but only when these missiles number in the dozens can they damage Decepticon armor."

Arcee asked the General a question. "From what I understand about human weapons, your ammunition has significant weight. Doesn't the extra weight from the ammo weigh down human soldiers who carry that weapon?" I could tell she was genuinely curious.

Shepherd nodded. "If the sabot rounds were made out of lead, copper, tungsten or any other human metal then yes, it would weigh the soldier that carries it, but we recently discovered a new type of metal in the Earth's crust." General Shepherd tapped the screen of his PDA with the pen again.

The new image on the main screen was of a piece of bright silver metal. "We call it Adamantium. It's only a tenth of the weight of titanium while being five times the tensile strength, and three times as resistant to heat. We use it in tank and aircraft armor, ammunition, engines and the manufacturing of weapons, " Shepherd explained to Arcee just before Bulkhead asked the general his own question.

"I know this tech is advanced for humans and everything, but when are you going to talk about MECH?" Bulkhead's tone was impatient and bored.

Optimus gave Bulkhead a disapproving look for his rudeness before General Shepherd answered the Wrecker's question.

"I was going to get to that in a few minutes, but I guess I can speed things up," Shepherd said, and tapped the screen of his PDA a few times.

A micro-klick later, the main screen was showing a green beret's service record. The green beret had short silver hair and dark brown almost black eyes. I got a bad vibe from him just by looking at his picture.

"This, is former Army First Lieutenant Clancy Arkeville. He joined the S.T.F 141 approximately one year ago. He had the commanding officers of S.T.F 141 concerned about his behavior ever since. He tried on multiple occasions to perform his own experiments on the pieces of Decepticon armor we use for weapons tests. He failed every time and because he was loved by those under his command and he was very good at his job, little disciplinary action was taken against him... Something that we came to regret six months ago."

I could see Shepherd struggle to hold back the anger he held toward the man on the screen out of his voice as he continued, "The last time he attempted to experiment on the Decepticon armor, he was caught by a night watchmen. The night watchmen knew of Clancy's various attempts to experiment on the Decepticon armor, so he didn't bother to handcuff him since this was a regular occurrence." Shepherd paused for a moment, and when he spoke he kept his voice very calm, but the anger in his voice was clear as day. "However, when the night watchmen's back was turned, Clancy snapped his neck. He died almost instantly. As Clancy had killed the night watchmen, those under his command were stealing what equipment that wasn't locked up. They stole seven helicopters and enough M-320s to equip two companies of soldiers. Clancy had been planning this for months, before he and everyone under his command vanished. Clancy left this recording." Shepherd tapped the screen on his PDA again.

The voice that spoke held a fanatical tone that was blinded by greed and ambition. _"Shepherd, there's a war brewing... A war between the new world order... And the newest world order. A war in which the victor will be the side with the most innovative technology. The peace between us and the... Aliens can't last, it won't last. These machines outclass us in almost everything. We need to make the first move, we need to know how they work... We need our own machines on our side. When the war inevitably begins, I will be our savior. I will lead us to victory. Don't try and stop me Shepherd, and don't try to send your pitbulls after us. I am Silas leader of MECH and we are going to save the world."_ The recording ended.

I could practically feel the anger emitting from my fellow Autbots. This self-proclaimed savior of the human race was a psychopath. A psychopath that wanted nothing more than to pick Cybertronians apart so he could find out how we work, and then create his own drones to attack any Cybertronian they see.

I shrugged off the protective feeling in my spark and bit back the growl working its way out my throat when I thought about what Clancy would do to Arcee if MECH captured her. I really need to get over my stupid crush on her.

"How could you keep a mentally disturbed soldier in your ranks?" Prowl asked, with a trace of disgust in his voice that was directed at the now identified MECH leader.

General Shepherd spoke calmly, but with an underlined tone of frustrated anger. "His psychological profile was spotless. We detected no issues what-so-ever with him before he joined S.T.F 141. It was only after he learned of the nature of our work that we started to suspect that he wasn't right in the head." The general shook his head regrettably after he said this.

Moonracer spoke up for the first time since General Shepherd arrived at base. "While there are other things of more significant importance that Clancy spoke of, but what did he mean by, 'Don't try to send your pitbulls after us' general?" she asked with a curious look on her faceplate.

General Shepherd looked at her in slight relief at the temporary change of subject. "Clancy was referring to 'Shadow Company', my hand-picked choices for the very best in the S.T.F 141. I only give the most important assignments to them," he sounded proud of his hand-picked unit.

"How many soldiers are in this 'Shadow Company'?" Bulkhead asked, as he leaned against the catwalk near the Xbox.

"Never more or less than one hundred and sixty," General Shepherd answered, still looking as if he was relieved that we weren't talking about Clancy. He must have felt guilty about the death of that night watchmen.

"And how many followed Clancy?" Optumus asked, knowing that we needed to get back on the current subject.

General Shepherd looked back up at the Prime. "One hundred and twenty followed Clancy when he formed MECH. I have been sending Shadow Company after every lead and hunch we can track down or come up with, but everyone in the S.T.F is trained to stay off the grid. We're chasing ghosts, which is why the Pentagon orders that you help in bring MECH to justice." Shepherd spoke in a tone suggesting that he was reciting orders from a superior he didn't like very much.

"We have enough problems fighting the Decepticons. Why would we hunt down a human terrorist group? And what makes you think you can order us to do this?" Ratchet asked angerily.

I saw Agent Fowler roll his eyes out of my peripheral vision as he stepped toward the railing next to Shepherd. "In the words of our esteemed Director of National Intelligence, Theodore Galloway, 'The Autobots owe us for keeping their existence a secret from the public. The very least they can do as a favor is fix our MECH problem. If the Autobots don't want to fix our problem, we'll just order them too.' I don't even know how that guy even got his job," Fowler said, clearly disliking his superior.

It took a considerable effort for me to keep from cringing at the mention of Theodore Galloway. When I was still human, that man had my entire circle of friends wanting to punch his lights out for his stupidity and arrogance after we all saw Revenge of The Fallen.

Shepherd looked at the government agent next to him. "He got his job from being a kiss-ass and a pencil pusher. That man wouldn't survive a single day in the field," Shepherd's own dislike of Galloway was in his voice, but his tone was a bit more reserved.

"Despite what your director of intelligence believes, we Autobots are not under the command of the U.S government. I argee that Clancy and his followers must be stopped. But our fight against the Decepticons is far too important to be hampered by hunting for a group of humans who are very good at staying hidden." Optimus spoke in a neutral voice as he addressed the two humans.

Shepherd turned his attention back to Optimus. "We know that we can't order you to do anything Prime. All I will ask of you is that you inform S.T.F when you encounter MECH." General Shepherd turned his PDA off and returned it to the pouch next to his handgun after he said this.

"What about your Director Galloway? Won't he be displeased with you for not following his orders?" I asked the two humans, trying to sound as if I had never heard of the man and didn't know what his reaction would be.

"I've personally pissed him off enough to not give a damn about what he says anymore. All Galloway will do to me for a punishment is try and bury me in paperwork." Agent Fowler said in response, just before Shepherd answered my question as well.

"Galloway isn't very popular among any members of the S.T.F. I don't follow his orders to the letter. But my Second in Command that Galloway would replace me with if he fired me would probably spit in his face if he ordered my SIC to do almost anything." Shepherd knew Galloway just wanted to feel as if he was in charge, so he entertained the idoit. If Galloway tried to replace Shepherd, he wouldn't have any say in what the S.T.F did, even though he didn't have much say in the first place.

"I find your request to be more reasonable, General. If we encounter MECH forces in our fight against the Decepticons we will contact you, General Shepherd," Optimus said.

Shepherd nodded gratefully, "That is all I ask Prime. I've told you everything I know about MECH and their goals. Now I need to get back to my own base. We'll be in contact in the future, Optimus." General Shepherd started walking back to the elevator with Fowler right behind him after he said this.

After Shepherd and Agent Fowler entered the elevator and started moving toward the helicopter pad, Arcee turned to me.

"You knew who General Shepherd was before Agent Fowler even told us his name, didn't you?" Arcee's question caught the attention of the other Autobots as well.

I kept looking at the elevator Agent Fowler and Shepherd just left in as I answered. "Yes, I knew who he was the moment he walked out of the elevator. He was a character in a video game from my original reality called 'Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2'. His character betrayed the player near the end of the game."

_"How and why did he betray you in the game?"_ Bumblebee asked, sounding a bit surprised that someone who was fiction in my original reality was a real person here. Ironic, considering he along with everyone else in the room was fiction in my original reality.

I noticed that the others were waiting for me to answer as well when I looked at Bumblebee. "One of the last missions in the game was to attack a safehouse of -at the time of the mission- the main antagonist of the story and hoped to kill him there. The person you were looking for wasn't at the safehouse, but his playbook for all his operations was there on a computer. After the player downloaded the information on a DSM and ran to the extraction point, Shepherd killed the player character and everyone with him so he could get the glory of finding the DSM instead of the soldier who found it. I would have said this earlier, but Shepherd was right there and he might not be like his counterpart in the game." Everyone seemed to digest my words for a few klicks.

Optimus broke the silence. "While this information is alarming, we can't be certain of General Shepherd's personal motivations. We will keep a close optic on him for now, but this potential alliance with the S.T.F is promising and we cannot judge the General by his actions in a different reality."

"Are you seriously considering allowing the humans to fight the Decepticons? Not only are they at a serious disadvantage in terms of technology. But they won't even be able take down a single Con without a company of their soldiers getting slaughtered." Ratchet looked at Optimus incredulously as he said this.

"I am Ratchet. I will have to see how they plan to fight the Decepticons with their newer technology before I decide, but there is a possiblity I will agree for them to fight alongside us." Optimus spoke with a thoughtful expression on his faceplate.

"If it helps you in your decision, Optimus, there was an alliance between the humans and the Autobots in the movies I told you about." I said with a shrug.

Optimus nodded at my words and kept the thoughtful expression on his faceplate as he started walking out of the ops center over to the entrance tunnel. He was going for a drive.

I turned to Arcee after Optimus went for his drive. "Would you mind helping me find Wildwing and the humans? It's been awhile since we started talking with Fowler and Shepherd. There are a lot of places they could be." I began to walk down the hallway I had seen them go down just before Fowler arrived.

Arcee nodded her helm and started following me down the hallway. "Of course, there's a spot near the armory that Wildwing likes to climb. He might have taken the humans there," she suggested.

Arcee and I continued in silence as we walked toward the armory. I took the time to ponder what the existence of General Shepherd and Galloway in this reality could mean. Were there other characters from other movies or games here? And if there are other fictional characters here, who are they? Would they be people I've heard of? Or would I not even know when I met one of them?

"You seem deep in thought," Arcee said, giving me a side-ways glance as we walked past my quarters and continued.

"I was wondering if there could be other people in this reality who were fiction in my original one," I responded.

"Don't we Cybertronians count?" Arcee joked.

"Of course, but I meant whether there were people who shouldn't even be in this reality. I know of two people who weren't in this reality. This reality had nothing to do with General Shepherd or Theodore Galloway." We past the washracks as I said this.

Arcee looked at me with a bit of curiosity. "Galloway wasn't in the cartoon from your reality?" she asked.

I shook my helm. "No, he was involved with the Transformers franchise, but he only appeared in one of the movies, the second movie to be precise."

"Is Galloway as bad as Fowler and General Shepherd were saying?" Arcee asked.

I sighed before replying. "Worse. You know that alliance I told Optimus about? Well, he tried to shut it down several times. In the second movie Optimus was temporarily offlined, and Galloway basically had the other Autobots arrested while he was offline. The man is power hungry and like Shepherd said, a pencil pusher. I don't know how I would react to meeting Galloway in person." My tone clearly showed my displeasure toward the human.

Arcee took a few micro-klicks to reply. "I guess I should be grateful that Fowler is our liaison with the U.S government instead of Galloway," she said, looking shocked by the events of the second movie and by Galloway's actions in it.

"Yes, we should be grateful for that," I said in agreement.

Arcee and I didn't speak anymore after my response. We just walked to the armory. Wildwing was near the armory with the humans as Arcee had said. Arcee and I parted ways after I started my turn watching Wildwing. That was sixteen breems ago. Now I was sitting at my desk.

I finished off my last cube of the cycle as I sat in a chair with my pedes on the desk.

I heard Wildwing shift position as he recharged on my berth. After I started watching him, Wildwing had spent most of the cycle climbing the wall in the obstacle course.

The wall in the obstacle course was the one thing at base that he had real trouble climbing. The only way I allowed him to try climbing the wall was when I hovered under him in my F-22 mode so I could catch him if he slipped.

Wildwing had tried climbing the wall so much that he fell into recharge as he was walking toward the wall to try again. I had returned to my quarters so he could recharge properly about three breems ago. I'd been looking at the human news through the internet since then.

The group of teenage hackers whose hard drives I uploaded to the FBI had finally been sentenced in a public trial earlier in the cycle. They were tried as adults, and sentenced to thirty years behind bars. I watched the highlights of the newscast.

It turns out that the teenagers had filthy rich parents with very expensive lawyers that delayed the trial for almost two jours. When I heard what their defense was I found out why they delayed the trial... And I laughed out loud.

To quote the leader of the hacker group 'The virus that uploaded our hard drives planted the evidence.' That was seriously their best defense.

The one innocent teenager, Andrew, testified against the others. He told of how he was being blackmailed by the group, and how the 'Virus' took out each of their computers and left his computers untouched.

I liked the part where he asked to speak off the record for a moment. His words were. _"I wanted to thank the person, whoever they are, for getting me out of that situation. I still would be in that situation if it wasn't for you."_

The next part of the trial highlights was a public statement by the FBI. Surprisingly, I recognized the agent holding the press conference. His name was Aaron Hotchner and he was on a TV show called Criminal Minds from my original reality.

_"We are pleased that justice has finally been served to these misguided youths. While I cannot thank the person behind the unexpected uploading of their hard drives, I admit that catching them would have been much more difficult."_ The highlights of the newscast became a few biased people discussing if the teenager's sentence was too much, so I cut it at after Hotchner spoke.

'How many people that I once believed were fictional are real now?' I asked myself as I set my empty cube on the desk. This was such a strange cycle, first I meet General Shepherd, then I saw the real-life Aaron Hotchnre on TV. Next I'm going to have a drink with James Bond and Jason Bourne.

Since Wildwing was occupying my berth, I crossed my servos over my chestplates and tried to fall into recharge as I sat in the chair. It didn't take me long to get into a deep recharge... But things never are that simple are they?

* * *

><p><em>I was standing in the desert again, and in the same spot that Sam Witwicky had been standing when I spoke to him more than four jours ago.<em>

_'Wonder what he's been up to in his reality?' I thought, as I looked over the area I was standing in. I was alone, just like the last time I was here, but I could feel Solus through the parental bond we shared. She was quite a fair distance off to my right and she was happy that our bond was open again._

_'Don't really have anywhere else to go' I thought, as I started walking toward Solus and sent my own feelings of happiness through the bond._

_I walked through the boulders that surrounded the area where I arrived and continued. The desert was now dramatically different from the area I talked with Sam._

_There were virtually no boulders, instead the desert was almost flat and everywhere I looked I only saw white sand. It was strange to see such a quick change in scenery, but it was a desert and the terrain could shift at any time._

_I kept walking through the desert until I reached another field of boulders. The boulders were different from the area I arrived, each pillar of rock was etched with runes of the language of the Primes. I couldn't understand what any of the runes said, only Primes could, but I recognized the style._

_Following my parental bond with Solus, I criss-crossed through the boulders. Something out of my peripheral vision made me turn slightly to look at it. Two carved rock statues of Cybertronians locked in battle was what caught my optic._

_One of the statues was carved out of a white boulder. Every angle on the Cybertronian was regal and majestic. The unnamed Cybertronian didn't use any weapons against his opponent. He seemed to be using some telepathic ability as he held up his servos toward the other Cybertronian. His adversary's statue was in a position suggesting he was being thrown backward._

_The second statue was carved out of a dark grey boulder and was the polar opposite of the first Cybertronian. The angles on his chassis were so sharp that they might as well have been swords, which was appropriate considering his right servo was a spiked drill and his left servo was just a spike. It didn't take a genius to know that the statues were carved in the likeness of Primus and Unicron. One was the creator of our race and the other was the reason Primus created us, to fight him._

_I stood there for several klicks and looked at the two statues, the legendary beings seemly locked in eternal combat. After looking at the statues long enough to analyze every detail, I continued on my walk toward Solus and I assumed the other members of the Thirteen._

_It wasn't very long before I came to a clearing in the field of boulders and saw the Thirteen standing on six of seven low stone platforms surrounding an eighth platform. I looked at the ninth platform briefly. It was covered in runes I couldn't understand and was likely the language of the Primes. It was made for a small Cybertronian, judging by its size compared to the Thirteen and myself. I looked up from the platform and right at my carrier, who was the closest to where I was standing._

_Solus gestured to the empty stone platform next to her. "Stand over here. We have much to discuss, my son."_

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><p><strong>Yup, I left you with another cliffhanger... Sorry.<strong>

**I've been planning on General Shepherd being in this story for awhile now. I thought he was an awesome character in Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare 2... At least until he killed the player character and then I hated him. **

****UCAV I mentioned in this chapter is real. I just made it much larger than its real life counter part**. The S.T.F 141 is my own version of both NEST and Task Force 141. **As you saw in the chapter, they get some pretty cool toys***Puts sunglasses and suit back on* But I'm afraid that anymore information about them is classified... BTW Activision and Infinity Ward own the rights to General Shepherd... *Is paranoid about copyrights***

**What I said about sparkmated Cybertronians share dreams in this chapter has always made sense to me. They are the other half of each other and share their memories, wouldn't it make sense if they shared dreams? Like in the detail of Inception except you know that you're dreaming. **

**This chapter's credit song is "Two Steps From Hell - Otherworld" Again, not a song that really has any lyrics, but it somehow fits the chapter.**

**Please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.  
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	15. Discoveries

**I really love posting late updates don't I? I am sorry for another two week wait, but this chapter *Aside from being my longest* is the chapter where Crystal Prime's story *It's A Prime Adventure* and my story crossover. I will not say what happens in this chapter, but Crystal and I agree that you'll really like it :) Again I'm sorry for the late update.**

**Thanks again go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**Reitzel-chan - Well, you'll just have to read to find out won't you? Hehe.**

**KayleeChiara - Yup lol, I left last chapter at another cliffhanger. And you're welcome :)**

**jayna prime - You reviewed five times since my last update... So I'll combine all responses into one haha. Review for chapter 2: I love the music for that chapter as well. Review for chapter 8: I am glad you think my story is, and I quote "freaking sweet" I love writing it :) Review for chapter 13: I laughed when I got the idea, and while I was writing it lol. Review for chapter 14: Yup, I left you hanging again, but I'm pulling you back up :D**

**Akira Alvina - Awww, but I love writing evil cliffhangers *Sniffle* And wait no more! For I finally updated! Lol.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for my story and my OCs.  
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><p><strong><em>Transcending Time<em>**

**_Pocket Universe_**

_I looked at Solus for a moment before I spoke. "Am I going to remember what we discuss this time?" I asked jokingly._

_Judging by the regretful feelings I was getting from Solus' end of the bond, the partial erasing of my memory wasn't their choice and she felt guilty about it. "I am sorry about your memory loss, Primus forbid allowing you access to the knowledge we gave you unless you needed it." Solus spoke with a tone that mirrored the feelings I felt from her._

_"Don't worry about that, I know you had your reasons for keeping the knowledge you gave me locked away." I tapped the silver mark on the side of my helm for emphasis as I sent Solus feelings of reassurance that I wasn't mad about not knowing what the knowledge they gave me was._

_Solus gave a small smile as she sent relieved feelings through her end of the bond and gestured for me to stand the stone platform again._

_"So you were saying something about having much to discuss?" I asked Solus, as I went to stand on the stone platform next to her._

_Megatronus -who was standing on the stone platform on the other side of Solus- answered my question instead. "You remember when we told Sam Witwicky that Optimus wasn't the last of our descendants?"_

_I raised an optic ridge at the question of my as of yet unofficial sire. "Of course, my memory already was photographic when I was still a human. The only time I've ever forgotten anything was when you erased part of my memory. Does this have anything to do with what we're going to discuss?" I asked with a slightly confused look on my faceplate, I had a feeling this conversation was going to be a little strange._

_"Because my son, you are about to meet one of our few descendants other than yourself." Solus said as she gave another smile._

_Her words surprised me a bit. "I'm going to meet one of your other descendants? Is this descendent a mech or a femme?" I asked curiously. I couldn't think of a better question, but since I knew nothing about this other descendent, any kind of information about him or her was good._

_Vector spoke up from where he stood on the stone platform opposite of me. "The descendent you are going to meet is a femme, but you will need to know a few things about her before you meet her." Vector opened another window in front of me like the one that showed me what happened to me in my original reality._

_This window was showing me an image of a human woman that seemed to be about Miko's height with brown shoulder length hair and wearing an Autobot insignia necklace. I couldn't tell what color her eyes were because she appeared to be sleeping in a tree, a strange place to be taking a nap if you ask me._

_Vector spoke again. "This is Amelia back when she was still a human, her life was not... Easy before she met the Autobots. Her story is similar to yours in quite a few ways, however, you both have been members of the human and Cybertronian races. Both of you are fiercely loyal to the Autobot cause and have good relationships with your fellow Autobots..." Vector was temporarily cut off by Megatronus._

_"But only one of you likes Arcee more than as a friend," my sire said in a teasing tone as he smiled smugly._

_I could feel Solus' amusement from her side of the bond and noticed that the rest of the Thirteen were chuckling lightly as I sent an absolute glower Megatronus' way, even as I felt my cooling fans kick in lightly. But my glare only made the Prime with an unusually developed sense of humor smile wider, fragger._

_I shook my and helm looked back into the window as Vector picked up where he left off, albeit while he was obviously trying not to smile. "You are both our descendants, but Amelia is a Prime," he said with a bit of pride, he must have a connection to Amelia._

_As if Vector's words were some que, the window showed Amelia fall out of the tree, scrap her arm on a branch and hit her head on the ground. "Ow!" she half yelled, as she sat up in a sitting position. "Ugh, note to self, don't fall asleep in trees," I heard Amelia say to herself as she rubbed her head and arm with a pained expression on her face._

_I looked through the window at Amelia for a moment longer before glancing up at Vector. "Aren't Primes usually a bit more... Graceful?" I asked dryly._

_Vector narrowed his optics slightly at me as Zeta gave a brief laugh at my question. "Being a Prime is not about how powerful a warrior you are or how your frame is built. It is about how selfless your spark is, and Amelia's spark was in the right place even while she was a human," Vector said in a protective manner, a parental manner._

_"She is your daughter," I said matter-of-factly._

_Vector nodded. "You are a perceptive one, yes she is my daughter, but there are a few complicated details that I will explain later. Keep watching," Vector said, and pointed at the window in front of me._

_I complied, and looked into the window again. It seemed that time had skipped, because now Amelia was walking across a street over Miko and Bulkhead's alt mode when a red sports car that seemed to be a European model appeared further down the road and sped straight toward her. Amelia tried back pedaling away from the car's path, but she wouldn't make it back to the sidewalk before the car struck her._

_Just before Amelia was struck by the car, a man ran off the sidewalk and pulled her out of the car's path at the last moment._

_"That's way beyond the speed limit you idiot!" The man yelled. The unnamed man had dark brown hair, equally dark, but not unfriendly eyes and a beard. I remember seeing him in an ad for Falling Skies, his name was Tom Mason._

_I was distracted by my thoughts and missed whatever happened next in that situation and the window changed again. The next scene was very brief, it only showed the Autobot insignia necklace Amelia had been wearing fall out of someone's pocket, I assume it was Amelia's pocket. The necklace glowed a bright blue as it left her pocket and fell to the floor, she apparently didn't notice since she was perched on someone's shoulder-joint._

_I didn't have time to puzzle over why her necklace was glowing before the scene changed yet again. Now I was watching Amelia, Optimus and Ratchet look at the screen of the workstation in the med-bay. The reason they were looking at the screen was obvious, on the screen was an image of a human skeleton that was exactly half metal and half flesh._

_"Is this when she started her transformation?" I asked, as the Ratchet in the window explained something to Amelia and Optimus._

_"No, this is a little over a mega-cycle after her transformation had begun," Vector responded, as the window shifted to show Amelia laying down on the couch in the ops center as she watched a TV show._

_Suddenly, her face contorted in pain. "Ratchet," she started speaking in a very weak voice as the medic went to her side. "I think you had good reason to worry after all." She blacked out right after she spoke._

_I could hear the pain Amelia was trying to keep out of her voice, she did a very good job of keeping an even voice while the final stage of her transformation took over, but I heard it. I really felt for her when it came to her transformation, changing between human and Cybertronian was by far the most painful thing I ever endured._

_"That was when she entered the final stage of her transformation," Solus said in a sad tone, as she looked in the window from where she stood next to me._

_"I know, I feel for her when it comes to her transformation. There is no proper way to describe pain like that," I gave an unwilling shiver as I thought about the pain of my changing. Solus sent me feelings of comfort to avoid having me relive my transformation._

_The scene in the window changed again, now Arcee was standing next to a femme that stood about two feet taller than her, this must be Amelia as a Cybertronian._

_Amelia's Cybertronian frame was colored white, she had door-wings similar to Bumblebee's, but hers had purple flames on them. From what I could see of the parts of her alt mode on her chassis, she had chosen a Ford Focus, but I didn't know what the model or the year of the small car._

_The scene changed before either femme had said a single word and I looked up at Vector curious as to why he'd change the scene so quickly._

_"There is much that we must catch you up on, and some things are more important than others. Now look back at the window, we're not even close to being done." Vector instructed, and gestured at the window in front of me._

_I focused back on the window and studied the new scene as Vector started explaining when and where it was from._

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><p><em>Vector showed me more scenes from Amelia's life since she met the Autobots for the next two breems. I found out Ironhide and Jazz were at the Autobot base in her reality and that at one point Amelia had a glitch in her processor at that didn't allow her to dream. The glitch affected her reasoning and caused her to believe the other Bots were trying to hurt her. The other Autobots chased her around base until they could sedate her and allow Ratchet to fix the glitch.<em>

_It was after Ratchet had fixed Amelia's glitch that I noticed the white and red medic in the other reality was giving Amelia very caring looks when he believed no one was looking. I think the Ratchet in Amelia's reality had feelings for her like the Ratchet from my reality had feelings for Moonracer, but I couldn't be sure._

_Another thing Vector showed me was Amelia crawling through an air-duct on a Decepticon ship, whatever mission she was on ended with Ironhide helping a yellow Autobot support a red Autobot as the red Bot limped along, and Amelia supported Ratchet since his pede was injured._

_There were several other events Vector showed me that occurred in Amelia's reality. A few of them showed Ratchet giving Amelia the same look I had seen the medic give Moonracer in my reality and Amelia seemed to be confused over the feelings her spark gave her when Ratchet was nearby. There was no doubt in my CPU that those two cared greatly for each other, even though they didn't know how the other felt, or in Amelia's case didn't know she felt about him that way._

_Vector finally closed the window and spoke. "Now that you know everything you need to know about Amelia, there is one more thing we need to tell you about her past even she does not know."_

_"You said earlier that there are some complicated details you were going to explain later, is that what you are going to explain now?" I asked Vector._

_The light grey and black Prime nodded. "That among other things. Unlike how you were born a human and became a Cybertronian. Amelia was born a Cybertronian and changed into a human shortly after she was born," Vector said with a look of recollection on his faceplate._

_That shocked me. "So Amelia was originally born a Cybertronian, but was somehow changed into a human? How is that even possible?" I was tremendously confused by what Vector said, which wasn't something I was used to._

_Vector seemed to collect his thoughts for a micro-klick before responding. "My sparkmate gave birth to Amelia, who we named Shadebreaker when she was born, several centi-vorns after we discovered the Allspark. In those times there were some... Fluxes in the boundaries between the realities of the multiverse." Vector paused a moment. "My sparkmate and I were worried that The Fallen might break free from the reality we trapped him in and take Shadebreaker in revenge for our trapping him. So, to protect our newborn daughter, we found a way to change her into a human and placed her in a human family located in a reality where our race did not exist. I have been watching over her from this pocket reality since I entered it, wishing I could speak with her faceplate to faceplate," Vector spoke with a little regret in his voice._

_I looked over at my carrier and Megatronus. "How did Vector and his sparkmate find a way to change a Cybertronian into a human?" I asked with genuine amazement that Amelia was a Cybertronian before she was a human and changed again back to her original race. Considering I was once a human this wouldn't seem amazing, but hearing that someone had changed races twice was not something you hear often._

_"Vector and his sparkmate brought their newborn sparkling before the Core of Cybertron and asked Primus to help them hide her from The Fallen. Primus changed Shadebreaker into a human infant and told Vector to send her into a different reality." Solus explained._

_"But what caused her to change back into a Cybertronian? Your nanites is what caused me to become a Cybertronian, something must have caused her transformation." I said with a bit less confusion now that I knew who was responsible for Shadebreaker's change._

_Prima spoke for the first time since I arrived. "You saw the necklace Shadebreaker was wearing when she was sitting in the tree?" He continued at my confirming nod. "When Primus changed Shadebreaker into a human she was wearing that necklace. The necklace is what brought Shadebreaker reality she now calls home, even if she doesn't know that fact just yet. The necklace is what was also the only thing keeping her from changing back into a Cybertronian, when it fell from her pocket her transformation began." Prima said in his very Optimus-like voice, seriously, it was a little creepy how alike they sounded._

_"When is Shadebreaker going to get here?" I asked, after I thought about Prima's words a moment. I didn't bother asking how a necklace was keeping Shadebreaker from changing back into a Cybertronian. Primus was involved after all, and he could do things that wouldn't seem possible to our CPUs._

_"It will not be long now," Vector said, sounding excited by the prospect of seeing his daughter again._

_"Is there anything else I need to know about Shadebreaker before she arrives?" I asked, as I folded my servos behind my backplates in a casual pose I'd grown fond of over the jours since I'd became a Cybertronian._

_"No, you know everything that is essential for you meeting her." Vector said with a shake of his helm._

_Knowing that there wasn't much to speak of until Shadebreaker arrived, I just stood on the stone platform beneath my pedes and waited for her to arrive._

_About ten klicks after one of us spoke, a sound similar to a slightly staticy speaker came from the empty stone platform that we surrounded._

_In a flicker of light like a hologram I saw the shape of a Cybertronian femme, there was only a flash of white before it was gone. There was another flicker of light, this time I could make out purple flames on two door-wings before the light disappeared. There was no doubt it was Shadebreaker now._

_The hologram-like flicker of light appeared again and stayed this time. Shadebreaker seemed to materialize from the light, with a few last flickers of light finished she appeared before us and started looking around like she couldn't make out the shapes around her. My earlier height estimate of her was accurate, she stood at about twenty seven feet, which was exactly two feet taller than Arcee. The purple flames on her door-wings were more pronounced than when I saw her in the window, and they would change their shade of purple when she moved even slightly. Her left door-wing didn't move as much as her right one for some reason, she likely injured it somehow. Her optics were cyan blue, but like her door-wings they would change their shade of blue when she moved._

_"I see why they named her Shadebreaker," I whispered to Solus without moving from my position. It was interesting to see how the color of the door-wings and optics changed with her movement._

_Shadebreaker seemed to at last hear my tone and turned toward me, she stared at where I stood and blinked several times like she was trying to focus her vision. Shadebreaker got a very confused look on her faceplate after she stopped blinking rapidly and glanced up at me, she must have focused her vision._

_We stood and looked at each other for a while, Shadebreaker's perplexed look never leaving her faceplate while I looked back at her calmly as I stood in my relaxed military-like pose with my servos behind my backplates._

_"Hey... What's up?" I asked with a polite and causal tone._

_Shadebreaker looked like she was about to ask me a question, but then she noticed Solus standing next to me and Megatronus standing on the other side of my carrier. The very confused white and purple femme kept noticing another member of the Thirteen after the other, after Megatronus it was Alpha Trion, then Prima then Vector, Zeta was the last new mech, and then she looked back to me._

_"Um... Something tells me this isn't a dream..." Shadebreaker said with a bit of uncertainty, and shifted her optics between the mechs and femme surrounding her._

_"No, this is not a dream Amelia," Prima said, not calling her by her Cybertronian name likely because Vector wanted to tell her himself._

_Shadebreaker -or Amelia since we were calling by her human name for now- looked at Prima. "I know there are probably better questions I could ask right now, but why do you sound like Optimus Prime?" She asked, looking like was trying to not strain her neck while she looked up at the enormous Cybertronian._

_Prima looked amused by her rather unusual question. "Optimus Prime is my descendent, no matter how many generations separate his creation from my own, he will inherit traits from me. Now let us introduce ourselves, I am Prima," the first Cybertronian said kindly._

_I wasn't surprised to hear that Optimus was Prima's descendent, they were almost exactly alike in terms of personality and wisdom, but I think Prima learned to have a bit better sense of humor somewhere along the line._

_I was brought out of my brief thought by Amelia's shocked gasp. "Prima?... Wait, you're the Thirteen!" That was all she could say in her shocked state before she looked around at the other members of the Thirteen with pure awe in her optics._

_"Yes, we are the Thirteen, what remains of them at least. But not all of us are members of the Thirteen," Alpha Trion said to Amelia and gave me a brief look._

_Amelia followed Alpha's gaze and gave me another confused look like she had earlier._

_"Questions can wait for a few moments Amelia. Please allow my fellow Primes to introduce themselves to you," Prima said, at the same moment Amelia opened her mouth to speak, likely to ask why I wasn't a member of the Thirteen._

_Amelia looked back at Prima and narrowed her optics slightly at how the first Cybertronian seemed to know she was going to ask a question. She eventually just shrugged indifferently, likely having deduced that you should expect the unexpected with the Thirteen and looked at Alpha Trion._

_"My name is Alpha Trion, Amelia," he said with a slight nod._

_'I've been in this situation before' I thought, making comparisons between how the Thirteen started their introductions to me and right now._

_The introductions continued. "My name is Megatronus Prime," my sort-of sire said while giving Amelia a calm and friendly look._

_"Megatronus?..." Amelia asked, looking like she had heard the name before and was raking her CPU for an answer, this likely won't go over well. Amelia widened her optics while her door-wings arched back in fear as she looked at Megatronus. "You're The Fallen!" She exclaimed, and ran off the platform she had been standing on, and took cover behind Prima's pedes._

_"It seems I am doomed to be mistaken for The Fallen for the rest of my life," Megatronus said with a sigh of mock hurt and disappointment._

_I rolled my optics at his subtle reference to when I tried attacking him when we first met, but at least he wasn't teasing me about my crush on Arcee._

_Amelia poked her helm around Prima's pedes, surprising me slightly when she used her servos to support herself on a part of the first Cybertronian's armor. "Um... Sorry?" She said uncertainly. Her door-wings twitched slightly before she ducked behind Prima's pede again, clearly confused by Megatronus' statement. But she was still too afraid to come out from behind Prima's pede._

_"Amelia," Prima began. "Megatronus is not The Fallen, not anymore. You have no reason to fear those around you, we would not have brought you here if you did have something to fear." The first Cybertronian spoke in a logical and firm, but still caring tone, which made me wonder how he just pulled that off._

_"Are you sure?" Amelia asked with a trace of reassurance entering her voice at Prima's words, but still gave Megatronus a wary glance._

_"Yes Amelia, I am certain. Can you come out from behind my pede now?" Prima asked, as he looked down at the white and purple femme._

_Amelia stepped out from behind Prima and stood back on her rune-covered platform again. "Hi...?" She gave Megatronus a tentative wave, still obviously nervous about his presence._

_"I will take that over your previous reaction," Megatronus said with a smile, trying to appease her worry._

_A trace of a smile graced Amelia's faceplate at Megatronus' words and then she looked at Solus. "Since you're the only other femme here, I'm guessing you're Solus Prime?" she asked my carrier with her optic ridges raised slightly in almost youngling-like excitement._

_"And you would be correct Amelia, and don't worry about Megatronus, I wouldn't have become his sparkmate if I didn't trust him," Solus said, as she smiled at Amelia sweetly._

_"Oh... That makes sense I guess..." Amelia's optic ridges came together, likely thinking about Solus' words. After she stood with the thoughtful look on her faceplate for a few micro-klicks, she ducked her helm sheepishly and her door-wings drooped slightly in embarrassment. "Sorry I freaked out then," she said apologetically. She kicked at the sand under her pedes like a child who was caught trying to steal a cookie from the jar, another youngling-like moment._

_Megatronus laughed. "Do not worry about that, your reaction was better than his was," he said, and gestured to me with his helm._

_Amelia looked at me and asked, "How did you react?"_

_Megatronus responded before I could. "He tried to decapitate me," he said, as if that was obvious._

_Amelia's door-wings twitched a little and looked at me with a confused look on her faceplate as she tilted her helm in what was obviously deep thought. She seemed to be wondering if she should be worried about my presence or not. Both her door-wings suddenly lifted slightly and a moment later I heard her stifle laugh before she gave a small humored smile. "I suppose I don't feel so bad then," her door-wings moved slightly to mirror her emotions._

_"To be fair, he did sneak up on me," I said in my own defense._

_"Hmmm... I will give you that one my son," Megatronus said, revealing to Amelia that I was his direct descendent, even though it was actually still a technicality._

_Amelia looked at me with widened optics and door-wings that were twitching slightly in surprise._

_She blinked at me before speaking. "You're..." she pointed a digit at Megatronus, "His son?" Her voice was both curious and surprised._

_"Yes, though there is a long story behind that. My name is Shadowstreaker, it is nice to meet you Amelia," I said and gave the white and purple femme a polite nod._

_Amelia gave me a small half-sparked wave, like she was really confused about something and was trying so hard to figure it out that she was spacing out. I heard a whirl coming from Amelia's helm, she was thinking so much that her processor had started to overheat._

_I was about to ask her if she was alright before Alpha Trion stole the words out of my mouth. "Amelia?" He asked, as the whirl from Amelia's processor stopped and she took a deep breath. "Are you alright?" Some concern was in Alpha Trion's voice as he asked this._

_Amelia looked up at Alpha Trion. "I'm just... Having trouble wrapping my processor around this. It's a lot to take in," she said honestly._

_'You don't even know the half of it yet,' I thought, as Prima gave Amelia a slight smile._

_"That it is, and I am sure you and Shadowstreaker will have time to talk it out." Prima said in a rather cryptic tone._

_Amelia tilted her helm in a very Wildwing-like fashion before gazing back to me with a bit of confusion painted on her faceplate._

_"That is an even longer story," I said, knowing that from what I'd seen of Amelia she would want to know, but I also knew this wasn't the time to explain._

_"Isn't it always?" Amelia asked with a grin on her faceplate as she straightened her helm._

_"Now, we should get on with introductions," Prima said, likely wanting to get back on track._

_"I am Zeta Prime," the slighter mech next to me introduced himself to Amelia._

_Amelia turned to Vector, who's optics were filled with joy as he looked at his creation. "And I am Vector Prime, Little One," he wasn't doing a very good job of keeping affection he was obviously feeling out of his voice. From the way he spoke, I could tell he wanted nothing more than to crush Amelia in a giant hug, but that wasn't an option since she still didn't know she was his daughter._

_"Now, do you have any questions for us?" Prima asked in a friendly manner, which made Amelia turn her attention to him._

_"Um," Amelia said, she looked to be in thought since her door-wings were moving ever so slightly. She seemed to remember something and looked at me. "You said earlier something about someone naming someone Shadebreaker... What did you mean by that?" She asked, curiosity written on her faceplate._

_Vector cleared his throat to get Amelia's attention, he spoke when she turned to him. "Amelia," he said, as he waved her over. "We need to have a talk. Privately?" He said, most likely wanting to explain how she was his daughter._

_Amelia hesitated and looked at me again, the look in her optics asking me if she should go. I nodded affirmatively and she looked over at Prima, likely wanting to know what the massive Prime thought of her leaving._

_Prima smiled as he nodded as well. "Go on, Little One," he said with an encouraging tone._

_Amelia looked very nervous as she walked over to Vector after Prima spoke. The light grey and black Prime lead Amelia through the boulders surrounding the small clearing we were standing in and soon disappeared from my sight._

_"How do you think Shadebreaker will react to the piece of news Vector is about to give her?" I asked my creators when Vector and Amelia were out of audio receptor range._

_"I think she will handle it well, she is a Prime after all," Solus said, still looking at the spot where we'd last seen them before they disappeared._

_Megatronus added his two cents. "Not only that, it takes something significant to dampen her spirit. I have a feeling she will be happy with the news."_

_"I think she'll be happy as well. From what I've seen of her, she always tries to find the silver lining in every situation, even if the situation was already a good one." I said, while I nodded in agreement with Megatronus' words._

_"She is very much like her carrier in many aspects," Zeta said, a small fond smile forming on his faceplate as he spoke._

_I looked at Zeta. "Like what?" I asked, taking my servos out from behind my backplates so I could cross them over my chestplates._

_Alpha Trion answered my question instead. "Shadebreaker shares the same colors as her carrier, but her carrier's were not in the shape of flames and didn't change their shade when she moved. They are similar in height as well, Shadebreaker is slightly taller than her carrier, but only by two feet or so. They are also very similar in their personalities in the way that they care about those around them, and the way they go out of their own way to comfort others."_

_We didn't say anything else after Alpha Trion spoke, there really wasn't that much else to talk about while Vector and Shadebreaker were away._

_I saw Vector and Shadebreaker reappear from the direction where they had gone off to have their discussion. Shadebreaker was walking with a happy spring in her step, it was obvious Vector told her that she was his daughter and she was very happy about this revelation._

_"Vector told you that you are his daughter," I stated matter-of-factly, as they returned to their respective platforms._

_Shadebreaker beamed with happiness. "Yup, so that makes you basically my cousin doesn't it?" she asked cheerfully, door-wings moving slightly with her words._

_"I guess it does," I said, giving Shadebreaker a friendly nod._

_The white and purple femme's door-wings twitched a bit in happiness before she looked at Prima._

_"What other questions do you have Shadebreaker?" The huge Cybertronian asked, smiling lightly as he used her proper name._

_"Only a like bajillion!" Shadebreaker said, sounding incredulous that he just said that._

_Solus laughed. "How about we just stick with one at a time?" She asked in an amused tone._

_"Okay," Shadebreaker said, and paused as she likely was thinking of a question. "Why are there only six of you? You're missing seven," she asked, looking confused by the absence of the other six members of the Thirteen._

_I was interested to hear what the answer was going to be. I had been wondering where the other members of the Thirteen had gone ever since I had seen all of them in the visions my creators showed me when they found the Allspark._

_I saw Megatronus flinch slightly at Shadebreaker's question, more than likely thinking about the two Primes he had offlined when he briefly descended into madness._

_From the look Solus was giving him, I knew she was sending him comforting feelings through their bond. It made me wish I had a bond with Megatronus like I did with Solus and help him out, but for some reason I had yet to form a parental bond with him._

_Prima looked at Shadebreaker for a few micro-klicks before answering. "That requires a longer answer than you'd expect," that was all the warning he gave us before we all were standing in the Allspark cavern on Cybertron. We were all now watching the event my creators had shown me the last time I was in the pocket universe._

_Shadebreaker's optics immediately fell on the Allspark. "Whoa," she said in a barely audible voice, clearly in awe of the monumental cube, even though we were not really here._

_"This is the Allspark, it contained part of the essence of Primus when we discovered it deep beneath the surface of Cybertron." Prima said, looking up at the Allspark._

_Shadebreaker shook her helm after Prima spoke, seeming to snap out of a trance. "How are we here?" She asked confusedly, turning to look at the first Cybertronian._

_"We're not really here," Vector began, gaining the attention of his creation. "This is merely a hologram that Solus and I created. It allows us to play back events that occurred countless centi-vorns ago, such as this one," he said, looking around the cavern as he spoke._

_Shadebreaker widened her optics slightly, without a doubt shocked by how long ago this event occurred._

_"It is a long time isn't?" I asked Shadebreaker, knowing that was the cause for her shocked expression._

_The white and purple femme looked at me in surprise before glancing at her sire with a questioning look on her faceplate._

_"He is very perceptive my Little One, don't bother trying to figure out how he knew that," he said, giving his daughter an amused, but loving look._

_"We were exploring the depths of Cybertron when discovered the Allspark," Prima gestured to Shadebreaker that she should watch the unfolding scene as he spoke._

_Megatronus took over explaining to Shadebreaker when she had turned to watch the scene. "The Allspark was the essence of Primus, it is impossible to feel unwelcomed in this cavern," he said, giving the Allspark an awe-filled look. He grew sad and regretful when he looked at the hologram of himself as it held the shard of Dark Energon._

_Shadebreaker looked at Megatronus briefly before he continued. "Earlier in our travels, I came across a small amount of Dark Energon. It would be my downfall," he said with a depressed sigh, knowing what would come next._

_I saw Shadebreaker shivered at the mention of Dark Energon it made me curious, but this wasn't the time to ask her why she shivered at the mention of Unicron's life-blood._

_Shadebreaker looked at Megatronus again, this time a bit curiously. "Is that what made you become The Fallen?" She asked._

_Megatronus have a grime nod in response and continued looking at the scene with regret. It again made me wish I shared a parental bond with him so I could help Solus take away some of the guilt Megatronus no-doubt felt._

_Alpha Trion took over for Megatronus. "We saw his sanity disappear and moved to protect the Allspark from his corrupted state." He said, as the holographic forms of the other members of the Thirteen blocked Megatronus' path to the cube._

_I sighed sadly as I watched the same short scene my creators showed me of The Fallen initiating a destructive struggle with the other members of the Thirteen that caused two Primes to be offlined and Solus to fall to the ground as she clutched she spark._

_I saw Shadebreaker's door-wings droop sadly when she saw the two unnamed Primes get offlined, but she didn't turn away from watching the unfolding scene._

_When the past Megatronus' optics returned to their normal blue color, the actual Megatronus spoke again. "Briefly, I gained control of myself. And told Prima of the corruption done by the Dark Energon, and that when I descended into madness again I'd go after the Allspark no matter where it was."_

_Vector followed up Megatronus' words. "We opened up a portal to another reality and sent the Allspark through it," he stated, as the past versions of the Thirteen carried out what he just said._

_"I followed, and it was when I entered the portal that The Fallen and I became separate beings," Megatronus explained, just before the cavern and holograms around us flickered from existence, only for us to start watching a new scene unfold that I hadn't seen before._

_The new scene was a vastly different location from the Allspark cavern. The surrounding landscape was very flat and with few buildings nearby, and even fewer still that were still standing. What buildings that were still standing had varying amounts of debris laying at the base of their structures, obviously the result of massive weapons fire._

_I noticed the past versions of the Thirteen and a small number of other Cybertronians were fighting an army of obviously less heavily armed and trained Cybertronians that, to my surprise, were being lead by a mech I recognized as another member of the Thirteen. The sheer scale of the battle was shocking, hundreds of mechs and femmes were fighting for their lives in the huge battle._

_"After the incident with the Dark Energon, Liege Maximo started secretly plotting against us," I heard Vector say, making me look at the Prime. He was looking at Shadebreaker, who had likely wanted to know why a member of the Thirteen was leading an army against his fellow Primes. "He waited for more than a centi-vorn until he had gathered enough followers, and then he turned on us, making a grab for power while aiming to destroy those that opposed him." Vector said, sounding just as hurt by watching Liege Maximo's betrayal in a hologram, then as he must have hurt when the actual event occurred._

_I could feel Solus' sadness as she watched the events of the battle, at least one Cybertronian on either side was being offlined every couple of micro-klicks. With so many mechs and femmes getting offlined, the battlefield was becoming littered with severed servos, pedes, helms, parts of armor and energon. It was far from a pleasant sight, sure I had offlined Cons, but this battle was on its own scale._

_We all watched the battle for a few moments before Alpha Trion continued the story Vector had started. "Those that did not follow Liege Maximo's tyranny came to our aid. We fought to protect that which Liege Maximo sought to destroy." He paused, voice revealing his sadness at the events unfolding. "But our fallen brother and his army of supporters proved difficult to defeat."_

_The scenes of battle changed several times, showing numerous Cybertronians being offlined on either side, including a few non-Prime Cybertronians I had seen in the Allspark cavern._

_"Many of those that stood by us were lost in that war," Prima began. His voice was calm, but a trace of the sadness he no-doubt felt was in his voice. "Including some of our brothers," he said with a saddened sigh._

_The scenes around us changed again, each time the scene changed it showed a Prime being offlined, but they obviously did not go quietly. Dozens upon dozens of their enemies lay offlined at the pedes of each Prime, many of their opponents were either missing limbs, completely cut in half or blown apart by the powerful weapons the Primes used in battle._

_One last time the scene changed, it showed Prima, Alpha Trion, Vector, Zeta and Solus locked in battle with Liege Maximo. Maximo was fighting them all on his own after his army had apparently been defeated._

_"Eventually," Alpha Trion said. "We were able to stop Liege Maximo, in what would be the mech's last stand before offlining." I could see Alpha Trion watching the scene of battle steadily out of my peripheral vision._

_Liege Maximo fought off the Primes around him with an incredible amount of skill. He was taking advantage of the surrounding debris to avoid getting shot by the cannons of the other members of the Thirteen. The fallen member of the Thirteen was using a pair of swords that crackled with electricity which easily cut through the armor of lesser armored Cybertronians, but not Primes._

_The battle was over when Prima pulled out the hilt of the sword he carried on his backplates. The elegant and artistically carved sword hilt produced a blade made from pure energy, which took the shape of a double-edged greatsword that gleamed like the core of a star._

_Prima and Liege Maximo fought one on one in what was now a one-sided battle for a very brief time before Prima stabbed Liege Maximo through the chestplates and into his spark. The remaining members of the past Thirteen looked sadly at the offlined chassis of their fallen brother for a few moments, morning for the mech that had once been their brother._

_"It was thus that our number dwindled to where it is now," Prima said in a solemn tone, as the scenes as battle faded and was replaced by the clearing where we actually stood._

_We stood in silence for a klick, each of us lost on our own thoughts. I was surprised and angry that one of the Thirteen had willingly and deliberately betrayed the others. Megatronus had done the same of course, but because of the Dark Energon he didn't have a choice in the matter, while Liege Maximo did. I couldn't imagine the hurt and betrayal the Thirteen felt when this event actually occurred_

_Sensing my bitterness, Solus sent me feelings of peace, love and regret, she was telling me three things at once through our bond. She was telling me that I shouldn't be angry over an event that occurred so long ago that the universe didn't even exist... According to human scientists anyway. She was also saying that while she was saddened by the betrayal of Liege Maximo, her being my carrier was one of the things that was bring her joy, the others being Megatronus and the Thirteen._

_I sent the same feelings she sent me through my end of the bond as Shadebreaker suddenly walked up to Prima and gave the first Cybertronian a tight and reassuring hug._

_I had seen Shadebreaker do this in the window when Vector was catching me up on the events of her life. She had chased a yellow Autobot all throughout the base to give him a hug. It was a very humorous event that ended with the yellow Bot giving up and letting her give him a hug._

_Shadebreaker moved on to Alpha Trion and gave him a hug as well, she knew the Thirteen were still affected by Liege Maximo's betrayal and was giving them all hugs to cheer them up._

_Shadebreaker proceeded to hug Megatronus, Solus, Zeta and finally Vector, who she gave an extra long hug. The white and purple femme turned and looked up at me with a look in her optic that told me she was debating if she should give me a hug as well._

_I held up a servo. "That's alright, I don't need a hug," I said dismissively. Kindly turning down the hug I knew she was going to offer, but also knowing my words would just make her want to give me a hug more._

_"Why not?" She asked, walking over to me and poking me in the chestplates, only for her servo to pass right through me in a puff of black smoke. Shadebreaker's jaw dropped as she stared at the spot she poked while the smoke disappeared._

_"That's why," I said, smiling slightly as she kept looking at the spot where she poked me with a shocked expression on her faceplate._

_"Oh..." She said, as her optic ridges came together clearly in thought. "How come I can't touch you? I can touch everybot else..." She asked, tilting her helm in confusion as she spoke._

_"Because, Little One. Unlike you, Shadowstreaker is not a Prime. As such, he is not really here." Prima said, answering her question for me._

_"Oh," Shadebreaker said, giving me a last look before walking back to her platform and turning to Prima. "Why isn't he a Prime?" She asked curiously, but tone suggesting she felt bad about not being able to give me a hug, something that wasn't a problem for me._

_Alpha Trion spoke up from his platform. "He has not yet gained that status," he explained in a causal manner._

_Megatronus looked at me. "I do believe he will though," he said with a proud smile forming on his faceplate._

_To say I was shocked by Megatronus' words would be an understatement. "I will never be a Prime, I am not worthy of such a prestigious title." I said humbly. Megatronus had to be joking. Saying I could be a Prime was like going scuba diving at the Great Barrier Reef, then going to a swimming pool and saying the swimming pool was more interesting, it wasn't going to happen._

_"You don't know that," Shadebreaker said, drawing my attention to her. "No Bot knows the future." She crossed her servos over her chestplates as she spoke._

_'Your sire does at times,' I thought, and paused a moment before replying to Shadebreaker's words. "I will give you that one, but I still don't believe it will happen," I said, adamantly refusing to even think about how disastrous it would be if I was a Prime. With my leadership skills, I'd get everyone offlined within a mega-cycle._

_Shadebreaker gave me an exasperated look and huffed slightly, but didn't say anything else about the subject._

_"Do you have any more questions, Shadebreaker?" My carrier asked, changing the topic completely._

_"Um, yeah," Shadebreaker said. She looked between Megatronus, Solus and I, but her optics stopped at me. "Um, you said earlier that there was a long story behind you being Megatronus' son. How is that a long story?" She asked, looking up at me in slight confusion._

_My creators and I shared a brief, amused look._

_"Perhaps we could go for a walk and tell you all about it," my sire suggested, as he and Solus walked off their platforms and went to stand a bit further away from the others._

_I followed their example and walked off my platform to join them, while Shadebreaker hesitated a moment and looked at her sire. She went to join us after Vector smiled and nodded at her, but she stopped again and went back to give him a hug before finally joining us._

_"So, tell me about this long story," Shadebreaker said, after she joined us and we started walking in the same general direction I arrived from._

_"Well, let see where do we start?" I asked no one in particular, looking up at the swirling cauldron of dark grey clouds as I thought. "Ah!" I exclaimed. "It all started about four jours ago..." That was how I started telling Shadebreaker my rather long story._

* * *

><p><em>It took Megatronus, Solus and I twenty klicks to tell Shadebreaker my story from where it began, to where it was now.<em>

_We had just finished explaining to Shadebreaker about how I shared a parental bond with Solus, but not Megatronus since it was her nanites that caused my transformation. It was then that the white and purple femme spoke for the first time since we left the others._

_"But..." Shadebreaker said, giving me a confused look. "I don't get it. Why don't you have a bond with Megatronus? He is technically your… Sire." She paused briefly when she used the Cybertronian term for father, seeming to finding the word a bit strange._

_"I don't know why Megatronus and I do not share bond, there are a number of possible reasons for why that is." I said, giving Shadebreaker a small shrug as we kept walking along._

_Shadebreaker looked like she was about to ask another question, but something caught her optic and she stopped to look at whatever she had seen._

_My creators and I stopped as well to see what had caught Shadebreaker's optic. It was the statues of Primus and Unicron that had gained her attention._

_We watched Shadebreaker observe the statues for a few moments before she pointed at Unicron's statue and looked at me with a serious glint in her optic. "In the case you are ever inside that creep, don't ever ride on his anti-bodies, it's not fun."_

_I raised an optic ridge slightly, a bit surprised by her words. "You've been inside Unicron?" I asked, giving her a curious look._

_Shadebreaker nodded and shivered. "Not a pleasant experience, but yes," she replied._

_"Huh. That would explain why you shivered when Megatronus mentioned Dark Energon," I said._

_Shadebreaker's door-wings tilted downward a little bit. "Can we stop talking about it? It's rather creepy," she said, evidently not wanting to talk anymore about Unicron's life-blood._

_Megatronus glanced at me with a mischievous gleam in his optics, I didn't like where this was going. "Perhaps we could talk about how a certain mech has feelings for a certain blue femme," he suggested in a teasing voice, and nudged me in the side with a scrap-eating grin on his faceplate._

_I narrowed my optics at Megatronus in irritation as Solus stifled a laugh with her servo._

_"What?" Shadebreaker asked, clearly interested by Megatronus' suggestion as we started walking again._

_"Nothing, nothing at all," I said a little too quickly, which made what I said seem a bit suspicious and untrue._

_Shadebreaker gave me an appraising look before her faceplate lit up with realization. "Oh, you like Arcee!" She said, laughing softly after she spoke._

_My left optic twitched slightly and I scoffed. "My CPU says it's a stupid temporary crush I should just ignore, but my spark has been saying otherwise as of late. I'm more inclined to listen to my CPU and ignore what my spark says." I said, wanting to get this topic out of everyone's systems after I felt my cooling fans activate._

_Shadebreaker narrowed her optics at me and crossed her servos over her chestplates. "You should never ignore what your spark is telling you," she said firmly, almost shocked that I would shrug off what my spark was telling me so easily._

_"Says the femme who is on love with Ratchet and doesn't even know it." I countered almost immediately, as I ducked slightly to avoid hitting my helm on a rock-arch with Prime-runes covering it._

_The white and purple femme tilted her helm at me in pure confusion. "What?" She asked, completely oblivious to what I meant._

_I gave her a 'Really?' look, like she should have known this long a long time ago and glanced over at my creators as they walked next to me. **"Is she seriously that oblivious?"** I asked them in Cybertronian._

_"Hey! Don't cut me out of the conversation!" Shadebreaker protested, obviously irritated by being left out of our conversation._

_**"She's that oblivious,"** Megatronus replied in Cybertronian, sounding amused by how little she knew about her own feelings._

_"When I get back I am so going to ask Ratchet to teach me how to speak Cybertronian," Shadebreaker grumbled unhappily._

_Megatronus and I laughed at what Shadebreaker said while Solus kept herself from laughing, but the emotions I got from her said that she was very close to laughing with us. Without knowing it, Shadebreaker added on to her obliviousness, it was just too perfect not to laugh at._

_My laughing caused Shadebreaker to stop walking and give a loud huff of irritation. "Haha," she said dryly. "It's not funny from my end..." She said, narrowing her optics at Megatronus and I in displeasure._

_"Really? It sure is from this end though," Megatronus noted humorously, which made Shadebreaker huff again._

_"How's that?" She asked, looking between Megatronus and I for an answer._

_"Because you and Ratchet both like each other, but you are oblivious to your own feelings," Solus said casually._

_Shadebreaker looked at us with an incredulous look on her faceplate. "You know what I think?" She asked, still looking between the three of us. "I think you're all crazy." She said, dismissing the subject with a wave of her servos._

_"And you're in denial," I stated, all I got in response was Shadebreaker rolling her optics at me._

_"I think that maybe it's time to head back," Solus said, causing me to turn and look at her. "It's almost time for the two of you to return to your realities," she started walking back the way we came after she said this._

_I shared a brief look with Megatronus and Shadebreaker before I shrugged and followed after my carrier._

_The four of us spent the time walking back to the others by talking about random subjects. What are your built in weapon systems? I had asked Shadebreaker that one of course, she had a pair of Ion Blasters build into her servos and an Energon Battle Pistol on her backplates. The look on her faceplate made me laugh when I listed off my extensive weapon systems._

_Shadebreaker in turn asked me what my alt modes where, and after I told her I had an MRAP and a F-22, she said her alt mode was Ford Focus RS._

_We even asked what our favorite colors were, so it was a bit surprising when Shadebreaker said._

_"Hey I have a real question," her words caused my creators and I to look at her. "Do you any of you guys know what MECH is?" She asked._

_I sighed slightly. "I'll give you the short version." I began, making Shadebreaker look at me. "They are a group of human terrorists bent on stealing our technology so they can make their own versions of us and usher in the newest world order." I rolled my optics before continuing. "They believe that it's only a matter of time before the Autobots try and take over the world. They steal every piece of useful technology they come across, and the leader of MECH dreams of capturing one of us and learning how we work." I said, making the disgust I felt towards the leader of MECH clear in my voice._

_"They sound like idiots to me," Shadebreaker said, seemingly not concerned with the existence of the group, but I saw that she shivered ever-so slightly. "Who leads them?" She asked, dropping her bravado and looking at me with a bit of fear in her optics._

_"A psychopath named Clancy Arkeville," I answered, folding my servos behind my backplate as I had them when Shadebreaker arrived._

_The fear in Shadebreaker's optics faded as she let out a small laugh. "Clancy? I bet he hates that name," she said, now with an amused grin on her faceplate._

_'Huh, I never considered that,' I thought, smiling slightly as I said. "Yeah, I bet he does." I kept the smile on my faceplate as we continued walking back toward the others._

_When we arrived back at the clearing the others had been waiting in, they told us to say our goodbyes, which we did. I said goodbye to Shadebreaker just before she ran to give her sire another hug, and then I went to say goodbye to my creators._

_"You better be back here soon. Understood young mech?" Solus said, in a mock angry tone which made me chuckle._

_Megatronus looked at me. "I want you to make some progress with Arcee by the time you get back," he said in a dry and teasing tone._

_I didn't have time to respond to his words before I was back to sitting in the chair at my desk._

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><p><strong>July 6, 2012 5:13 A.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

I onlined and opened my optics, I was quickly greeted by the sight of Wildwing's upside-down faceplate in the top of my vision.

"You're online!" He said, for some reason sounding far more enthusiastic than he usually was, which was saying something since he was always enthusiastic.

"What are you so excited about?" I asked, offering him a servo to climb into.

The seekerlet climbed into my servo and responded as I stood from the desk. "I can feel my creators getting closer to Earth! They're going to be here soon!" He was practically bouncing in excitement as I held him in my servos.

I was slightly surprised by the mechling's words, his creators weren't supposed to get here for at least two solar-cycles or more. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised, if I was separated from my son by hundreds or thousands of light-years for any amount of time I'd push my ship beyond its limits to reach him. It's what most would do in that situation.

"Well then, let's go see if they've tried to send us a transmission." I said with a smile, as my door opened and I stepped out into the hallway.

I knew Wildwing was ecstatic about his creators coming to Earth, but to be truthful I was a little disappointed they didn't take longer in arriving. I had greatly enjoyed spending time with the little seekerlet since he arrived, I was going to miss having him around and I knew Arcee would as well.

I entered the ops center and saw that all the Autobots minus Bulkhead and Moonracer standing around the main screen.

Scratch that, Moonracer was driving into the ops center through the entrance tunnel in her alt mode, a 2013 Hyundai Genesis Coupe. I had been confused when she had picked out the sports car as her alt mode since she was the same height as Arcee and she had a motorcycle as her alt mode. But it made sense after Moonracer explained how every Cybertronian varied in how much they could change their mass. Moonracer said she perferred not changing her mass very much when transforming into her alt mode, but Arcee loved changing her mass significantly. That was why their alt modes were very different in size, but they were still the same height in their true forms.

Moonracer transformed into her true form and walked over to the workstation that made all except Bulkhead present at the moment, and all of them looking at the main screen, which made me curious.

"What's going on?" I asked a groggy looking Raf as he walked back to the couch next to the Xbox where he had been staying for the past few solar-cycles.

Raf had taken my advice about how to tell his family he didn't want to go Boston. His family had been angry at him at first since he had basically hacked their computers, but calmed down once they heard what he had to say. After what had apparently been a very long discussion about more personal things than just not wanting to go to Boston. Raf's family agreed to let him stay at a friend's house while they were on their two mega-cycle trip, which was why Raf was sleeping on the couch in the ops center.

"A ship that isn't broadcasting any IFF signal, Decepticon or Autobot, is half way to Earth and going well past the recommended speed for a ship that size. Now I'm going back to bed, you guys are active way too early for my liking." Raf said, not even looking at me in his drowsy state as he walked to the couch.

"My creators are almost here!" Wildwing said happily, making the other Autobots turn towards us.

"Your creators? How could they be here so soon?" Ratchet asked the seekerlet, his faceplate scrunched in confusion.

"Most creators will do almost anything to protect or be reunited with their creations Ratchet, including push their ship past the speed which is considered safe." Optimus said to Ratchet, coming to the same conclusion I had earlier.

Ratchet considered the Prime's words before giving out a simple 'Huh' and looking back at the main screen.

I glanced over at Arcee. "Have we contacted the ship yet? I'm sure Wildwing's creators want to know he's safe and protected," I asked, as I walked over to stand next to her.

"No, Ratchet and Moonracer had already tried over a dozen frequencies before they got close to the moon. But we haven't been able to make contact, their either ignoring us, or we're not using the right frequency." Arcee said, putting a servo on her hip as she looked at the main screen.

It was at that moment that a message on the main screen told us we were being hailed by an unknown ship, the same ship we appearently haven't been able to contact.

Ratchet looked surprised by the unexpected contact from the ship as he typed commands into the computer and accepted the hail from the ship.

Immediately after Ratchet accepted the hail, the voice of a mech came through the workstation.

_**"To the commanding officer of the local Autobot base, this is neutral scout vessel The Collected. We are searching for a mech sparkling that we know crash landed two mega-cycles ago and is located somewhere on this planet. Any help you can provide in finding his whereabouts would be greatly appreciated."**_ The mech on board the ship, now identified as The Collected, sounded very calm as he respectfully asked for our help. But I could hear the near-pleading tone in his voice as he requested our help, this must be Wildwing's sire.

My suspicon of the mech's identity was confirmed when Wildwing spoke. **"Sire! You're here!"** The mechling said joyfully, looking up at the screen with happiness filling his fuschia optics.

_**"Wildwing?"**_ A new voice asked, this new voice belonged to a femme that must have been Wildwing's carrier. She sounded incredibly relieved to hear her son's voice. _**"Are you okay? How long have you been with the Autobots? Who's been taking care of you? Have they been doing a good job of taking care of you? Are you getting your energon? Is there anyway of making the ship go faster?"**_ She asked all her questions very quickly, and had obviously directed her last inquiry at her mate. Wildwing's carrier was definitely a worrier.

Wildwing and his sire both laughed lightly at the femme's antics at the same time before the mechling responded. **"Hehe, I am fine carrier of course I've been getting my energon. I've been with the Autobots since I landed on the planet, the native species are so fascinating! Shadowstreaker and Arcee have been great care-takers while I've been here, they're awesome!"** Wildwing said.

I shared an amused look with Arcee. "We're awesome apparently, that's two levels above cool." I joked, making Arcee laugh at my joke, which in turn made my spark flutter. 'Stupid damn spark and it's stupid damn fluttering.' I thought. No matter what Shadebreaker or my creators said in the Pocket Universe, I was still going to ignore whatever my spark tells me when I was around Arcee. On that note, I'm going to have to tell Optimus about my visit with the Thirteen later.

Optimus brought me out of my thoughts when he spoke to Wildwing's creators. **"My apologies for interrupting your conversation with Wildwing, but I must ask. My name is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, why did you not establish contact with us when we hailed you earlier?"** He asked.

_**"Sorry about that, we have a limited communications range in this scout vessel. We inherited this ship and our main vessel from an organic race on the other side of this galaxy three vorns ago, we still haven't upgraded all the technology that was already installed."**_ Wildwing's sire said apologetically, clearly having heard the transmissions Ratchet sent out while I was still recharging, but couldn't respond until they were within range.

Optimus opened his mouth to speak, but there was an explosion from the ship's side of the communications channel, which caused Wildwing's carrier to let out a surprised yell.

_**"What was that?"**_ Wildwing's sire asked, sounding like he was asking someone who was far away from the communicator.

I could hear that there was a response to the mech's question, but I couldn't make out any of the words.

Wildwing's sire spoke through the communications channel again._** "Optimus! A Decepticon stealth frigate just dropped its cloak and attacked us."**_ He said, trying to keep any fear he may have felt out of his tone for the sparkling's benefit.

**"We can assist you against the Decepticons if you can land your ship somewhere on this planet."** Optimus said, voice turning serious at the news of the Decepticon attack.

Wildwing's sire replied. _**"We have already chosen a landing zone. We will be landing within the next ten klicks in the... I don't know the name of the area, but it is a vast desert located on the second largest continent of this planet."**_ There was another explosion on The Collected's side of our communications channel. _**"I am going to have to close the channel Optimus, I need to focus on getting my ship down planet-side."**_ He said, then barked out a few commands that must have been meant for Cybertronians he was leading.

**"Sire... Don't go..."** Wildwing said quietly, the joy and excitement had left his voice and optics at the moment of the first explosion. His voice and optics were now filled with fear and anxiety.

Wildwing's carrier spoke through the channel. _**"We have to go Wildwing, but I promise we'll be back."**_ She was using a very calm and soothing voice as she spoke to her creation.

**"But... I don't want you to go..."** Wildwing said, almost shedding tears as he spoke. Obviously distressed by the situation.

_**"Don't cry 'Wing,"**_ Wildwing's carrier said, either knowing from their parental bond or from her creation's tone that he was on the verge of tears._** "We are not going anywhere, your sire and I are getting closer to you. But we can't talk through this channel anymore."**_ There was another explosion from her side of the channel, but she didn't seem to notice. _**"I promise you this 'Wing. When we get down to that planet, I am going to give you the biggest hug you've ever had and never let you go. Does that sound good?"**_ She asked, sounding like she wasn't the least bit worried about the explosions we occasionally hear in the background.

**"Yes... But I don't want you or sire to be hurt."** Wildwing said sadly.

I leaned over to Arcee. "Listening to this conversation is sparkbreaking. That ship can only take so many hits." I whispered so Wildwing couldn't hear me, not wanting my words to distress the saddened mechling any further.

"I know," Arcee said in a sad tone, while she gave Wildwing a look with the same emotion.

Wildwing's carrier responded to her creation's words right after Arcee spoke. _**"Your sire and I will be fine 'Wing."**_ I could almost hear the reassuring smile she had on her faceplate as she talked with her creation. _**"I am going to close the channel now 'Wing, but do not worry, we will be there soon."**_ Wildwing's carrier closed the channel after she spoke.

Wildwing kept looking at the screen as his carrier cut the channel. As if he was trying to will her to open it again and tell him there was no attack, that they weren't in any danger and they'd be there soon. It made me feel sorry for my temporary charge, and angry at the Decepticons who were attacking his creators.

Optimus looked at Ratchet. "Can you determine the exact location where they will land?" He asked the medic.

"Of course," Ratchet replied, not even scoffing at Optimus' simple request as he immediately typing commands into the workstation.

After Ratchet had typed in a few commands, the main screen started tracking two inbound ships highlighted by red circles that were just entering Earth's upper atmosphere. They were entering the Exosphere if I wasn't mistaken.

Ratchet typed something else into the workstation and the main screen showed two dotted lines that extended from the red circles. "The projected landing areas are both in the Sahara Desert about five miles apart from each other." He said, pointing at the screen as he spoke.

"What can you tell about the ships?" Moonracer asked.

Ratchet looked over at the femme I truly believed he had feelings for. "The only thing I know about the ship we've been tracking for the past breem is that it's almost a kilometer in length, and the new ship that I just detected is roughly a quarter of the length of the first." He gave Moonracer a helpless shrug, obviously sorry he couldn't find out anything useful about the two ships.

Optimus looked at the screen a moment in thought before he turned to Wildwing. "Wildwing," he said gently, gaining the seekerlet's attention. "We are going to help your creators in their fight, but your temporary care-takers will need to fight as well if we are to have the greatest chance." It was clear what he wanted of Wildwing, to let Arcee and I go with everyone else to the Sahara.

Wildwing looked at Arcee and I. "Go help my creators," he sounded very worried and frightened for the safety of his creators.

I walked over to where the mechling stood on the catwalk and leaned down closer to his level. "I will do everything in my power to help your creators Wildwing, I promise that." I said earnestly, standing back to my full height and walking over to rejoin Arcee.

"You have my promise to help your creators as well Wildwing," the blue femme next to me said, giving Wildwing a sincere look.

"I know you all will..." Wildwing said dejectedly, and turned back to stare at the main screen as the two red circles approached the Thermosphere.

Optimus activated his battle mask and looked at Ratchet. "Activate the ground bridge," he said, walking past Arcee and I to stand in front of the deactivated ground bridge.

I went to stand at his left side while Arcee stood at his right. The others joined soon joined us, all except Ratchet and Bulkhead were going to the Sahara. The white and red medic activated the ground bridge.

"Autobots!" Optimus bellowed when the green portal opened. "Transform and roll out!" He finished saying and transformed into his alt mode.

I transformed into my F-22 form as the other Autobots around me followed Optimus example and changed into their alt modes.

One thought was going through my processor when Optimus started driving toward the green portal leading to the Sahara. That thought was that even with the help of The Collected and Wildwing's creators, we were about to face a very tough battle in going against a Decepticon frigate... But we were about to bring the rain.

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><p><strong>Why yes, yes I did leave you hanging two chapters in a row, aren't I terrible? Hehe. <strong>

**This chapter was a lot of fun to write, frustrating at times, but a lot of fun to write. I love making Megatronus really mischievous when it comes to teasing Shadowstreaker for his crush on Arcee lol. **

**This chapter's credit song is "Les Friction - Here Comes The Reign" Did you see what I did with the last line in the chapter? :D That's not the only reason of course, this song is simply awesome.  
><strong>

**So, please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.  
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	16. The Battle

**And so I have at last finished this chapter :) It would have been posted sooner, but I had writer's block for almost a whole week -.- I have written most of this chapter in the last five days or so. Sorry that you had to wait for another two weeks to find out what happens after I left the last chapter on a cliffhanger lol. In other news, I got WFC and have been playing co-op, a bit of multiplayer and Escalation with Crystal Prime :) The Cons never stood a chance lol.**

**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**jayna prime - I did that because it's fun *Smiles evilly* Just kidding lol... But seriously it is fun :D. **

**Akira Alvina - *Fights off mimes* That isn't very nice, and yes, yes I am ^.^ And don't worry, Shadow will get his aft in gear... Eventually lol. I promise no more sheer drop cliff hangers... This chapter hehe.**

**Sailor Shinzo - No I did not. Did you read chapter 14 'The Dream and The General'? I explain where Silas came from, what his real name is *In this story* and how he started MECH in that chapter... And how he took the name Silas as an alias after he started MECH. :|**

**TheBlackRose - Yes, seriously a cliffy lol. But don't worry there won't be another cliffy for a while :)**

**KayleeChiara - You will have to read to find out won't you? :) And I like sharing ^.^**

**The-Darkest-Hour-2311 - I don't know if you are reading this as you reviewed chapters 2 and 5 *Thank you btw :)* But I am responding anyway. Review for chapter 2: Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Lol. Review for chapter 5: I would have been happy if you said that I wrote that episode simply as well as the cartoon, but for you to say you liked it 11 times better is very nice of you :) Thanks.**

**Devil-O-Angel - I don't know if you are reading this either, but I am responding to this as well :) I don't know, I once wanted that to happen when I first started Fate Calls, but now I think I wouldn't be able to make it work :/ It would funny though if Sam Witwicky Met Shadowstreaker in person lol.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.**

**Oh! And before I forget, I highly recommend you listen to "Epic Score - They Hit Without Warning" When you read the whole battle scenes :) You may have to repeat it a few times though, there is a lot of battle in this chapter.  
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><p><strong>July 6, 2012 10:31 A.M<strong>

**Somewhere in the Sahara Desert.**

After we all exited the ground bridge and I pulled up to avoid the ground, I immediately become aware of two things. The first thing I noticed was the intense heat of the Sahara. Jasper may have been warm, but this place was like a massive oven filled with nothing except sand, rocks and the occasional piece of desert foliage.

The second thing I noticed were the two large ships rapidly descending to Earth's surface, with the large one being chased by the far smaller vessel.

The smaller ship was about two hundred and fifty meters long and was dark greym almost black in color with sharp needle-like protrusions that gave the ship an intimidating spiked appearance. A group of turrets located on the bow of the ship, that was obviously the Decepticon frigate, would occasionally launch a salvo of missiles at the larger vessel it was pursuing. Each missile that hit the larger vessel would cause noticeable damage on impact. It was clear that the ship being pursued didn't have shields or very high quality armor, which was unusual for a Cybertronian vessel.

The larger ship that I knew must have been The Collected was also grey in color, but a much lighter tone of grey. The vessel was distinctly designed for efficiency and nothing else, aesthetics were virtually nonexistent. Comparing the ship to a massive streamlined shoe box fitted with multiple engines would not be an inaccurate statement. The Collected was evidently a heavily armed ship, I counted no less than three dozen turrets the side of the ship that was facing us, and I expect that there were just as many turrets on the other side.

After the Decepticon frigate sent another salvo of missiles at The Collected, I saw a large number of seeker-framed Cybertronians appear on top of the larger vessel. A moment after they appeared on top of The Collected, they transformed and started flying towards the Decepticon frigate. Since Wildwing said I had wings like his sire, and from how the seekerlet's sire seemed to be a commanding officer on The Collected from our short conversation, I suspected the mech was leading the seekers against the Cons.

Optimus comm-linked me. _"Shadowstreaker, go and provide what support you can to those seekers,"_ he ordered.

_"Understood,"_ was my simple reply before I closed the channel. I started towards the seekers and the Decepticon frigate in a near-vertical climb, leaving the sound barrier far behind in a sonic-boom as I started my ascent.

As I continued my ascent and the seekers from The Collected flew towards the Decepticon frigate, I saw the just as many seekers fly out from the frigate to meet those from The Collected. This battle was going to get ugly.

The ranks of seekers from the two ships unleashed a barrage of missiles at the opposing side before they all met at the mid-way point between the frigate and The Collected. I saw some seekers transform into their true forms while still in midair and physically collide with another seeker on the opposite side that had done the same thing. The seekers that did this would proceed to engage in combat with servos and melee weapons. Other seekers would stay in their jet forms as they engaged in dogfights against each other. The remaining seekers would fight with a mix of both techniques, engaging in a brief dogfight before changing into their true form to slice or shoot the opposing seekers.

I had to dodge the falling chassis' of a few Cybertronians that were offlined in the initial barrage of missiles. Seeing I was about to join the fray, I opened the doors to my gun ports and missile bays as I scanned the ranks of seekers for targets. Many of the Neutrals had similar color schemes as the Decepticons, so separating them from the Cons took me a few micro-klicks. But after I identified who was a Decepticon and who was not, I found a target in my line of fire. My target was a Con hovering in his true form as he celebrated the offlining of a neutral he had just defeated, but he wasn't going to live long enough to truly enjoy his victory.

I fired two shots from my Nucleon at the Con as he hovered in place, he never saw either of the shots. One shot hit him in the upper part of his pede, completely vaporizing the lower half of his chassis. My second shot hit him in the chestplates a sparkbeat later, vaporizing what was left of his chassis.

Another Decepticon in his jet form was passing the Con I just offlined saw what happened to his ally and transformed so he could search for who was responsible, a fatal mistake on his part.

As I was about to fly to past the Con, I transformed into my true form and let my inertia carry me towards the Decepticon while I deployed one of my swords. I swung towards the Con's tank area just as my inertia carried me up to the same level of the Decepticon. If the Con had seen me coming he would have tried to put up some kind of defense, but he never saw me. The armor plates of the Decepticon's chassis was the only resistance that met my sword. He was sliced into two separate halves at his tank.

I didn't watch the now offline Decepticon as he fell towards the ground. Instead, I changed back into my jet form and started flying just above the battle to get a better view of possible targets.

It was a few micro-klicks after I changed back into my jet form that I detected someone trying to get a missile lock on me. My rather explosive arrival had apparently gained the attention of other Decepticons, and now they were chasing me down.

After several moments of my pursuers trying to get a lock on me, and failing because of how my paintjob made me invisible to all types of sensors, they fired a half dozen of missiles past me in an attempt to hit me. I was now in a situation I had never been in outside of a training simulator, a dogfight.

I banked sharply to the left and accelerated to throw off the aim of the Cons chasing me, and not a moment too soon as I barely avoided four more missiles they sent in my direction. I caught a brief look of the Decepticons tailing me as I was in my turn. I was only being chased by two Cons, but they looked to be larger and more heavily armed than the majority of Decepticons I fought.

Each Con had four missile pods on under both of their wings, as well as two very large chainguns on either side of their jet forms. It seemed to me like my pursuers were the seeker version of Brutes.

The Brute Seekers opened fire with their chainguns, each of the massive rounds of energy they were firing was delivering enough power to put dents in the outer layer of my armor. It was at this moment that I chose to do something I hoped the Brute Seekers weren't expecting.

Instead of trying to avoid the fire from the chainguns, I transformed into my true form and started turning toward the two Brute Seekers as my forward momentum kept me in the air, what happened next seemed to be in slow-motion for me.

As I turned to the Brute Seekers, I pulled my Nucleon off my backplates and fired four shots at the Cons in rapid succession. The first shot hit one of the Brutes in the base of the wing blowing off his wing and severely damaging that side of his jet form. The second shot hit the same Brute squarely in his fuselage, which offlined him almost immediately. My third shot missed its intended target, but my forth had an unexpected result.

The shot hit one of the missile pods under the wing of the second Con, detonating the missiles still in that pod and the pod next to it. The rest of the Brute Seeker's missile pods detonated at once, incinerating the Brute in a massive fire ball.

Looking at the explosion for just a brief moment, I transformed back into my jet form and I noticed another battle was already heading my way. Three normal Decepticon seekers were flying straight towards me in a very loose V-formation.

The new group of seekers launched two missiles apiece at me and quickly followed the missiles with machine gun fire. Unlike the chainguns of Brute Seeker's, the smaller machine guns of these seekers wasn't enough to cause damage, barely enough to scratch my paint in fact. But the missiles they launched my way had me concerned.

I pulled an aileron roll just as the missiles went passed me, but I felt two missiles scrape against the underside of my wing as I went into the roll. When I came out of the roll, I fired one micro-klick burst from my Ion Displacer at the seeker in the middle of the formation. His fuselage was shredded by the short burst and his chassis started falling out of the sky. Reverting back to my true form, I deployed a sword and swung upward in a vertical arc as one of the other Cons was about to fly passed me. My sword cut into the Decepticon at the center of his fuselage, slashing him into two nearly identical halves. The third seeker was offlined by a quick burst from my Plasma Chaingun. When The Cons were offline, I changed back into my jet form and surveyed the battle around me.

It seemed the neutrals were doing very well overall, I saw that the Decepticon ranks had been reduced to only about half they were at the beginning of the battle. But the Cons weren't going quietly as the neutrals had still taken quite a few casualties as well, I estimated that a quarter if their numbers had been offlined so far.

A green Cybertronian helicopter and a white and red Cybertronian jet started flying next to me as I surveyed the battle. I saw that both of them had a red Autobot insignia on the side of their alt modes.

The helicopter had a chaingun mounted under his alt mode and I saw that he also was equipped with two missile pods.

The Autobot seeker had no visible weapons, but I could tell he was far from unarmed and I had a feeling he was a very deadly warrior. Surprisingly, I recognized the seeker.

"Those were a few pretty sweet moves you pulled back there, but I could have done something better." The unnamed Autobot helicopter said in a cocky tone, obviously full of himself when it came to his fighting skills. The Autobot was speaking English, he must have downloaded Earth's languages.

The white and red Autobot jet gave an irritated sigh at the words of the helicopter. "For Primus' sake Springer, tone your ego down a notch will you?" He asked in an exasperated tone. This Autobot was speaking English as well and his voice also had a faint British accent.

"What? It's true!" The helicopter now identified as Springer protested, making me wonder if this was the same Springer Bulkhead mentioned when he was telling me about how the Wreckers convinced Ironhide to ask Chromia out.

The Autobot jet spoke again. "We can talk about your incredible combat prowess later Springer," he said sarcastically. "A battlefield isn't the place to boast."

"It's the perfect place to bo-" Springer began arguing before getting cut off by the jet.

"Enough youngling!" The jet yelled, clearly fed up with Springer's arrogance.

I heard Springer huff as he continued flying next to me and said something like 'Fragging old mech' under his breath.

After not saying anything for several micro-klicks, likely to see if Springer was going to say anything else, the Autobot jet spoke again.

"I've never seen you among the neutrals, and you've been fighting the Decepticons since you arrived, so you must be one of the Autobots stationed on this planet. My name's Jetfire, and the arrogant helicopter to your right is Springer. What's your name seeker?" He asked me.

I knew what his name was before he introduced himself, but this probably wasn't the time to tell these two about my origins. "Triple-Changer actually, and my name's Shadowstreaker," I said. "I'm the heavy weapons specialist for the Autobots on Earth."

"Well Shadowstreaker, want to help us take down that Decepticon frigate?" Springer asked in a completely serious tone.

"And how are we supposed to do that?" I asked the green helicopter. If I was in my true form, I would have been giving Springer an incredulous look as I spoke.

Jetfire answered my question instead. "I have a plan for that. I saw a weak point in the armor of the frigate that we might be able to blast through if we hit it with enough firepower. Once we get through the armor and get inside the ship, we can fight our way to the main reactor and overload it." He explained.

"Sounds like sparkling's play," Springer said, dropping the serious tone in his voice in favor of an arrogant one.

"What did I say about toning your ego down Springer?" Jetfire asked the helicopter with a frustrated tone in his voice.

"I can't help being an awesome warrior old mech," Springer said, obviously enjoying getting on Jetfire's nerves.

Jetfire ignored Springer's words and spoke again. "We need to try and get on the frigate soon, I don't know how much longer The Collected can keep this fight up." He said with a bit of urgency in his voice.

I searched the skies around us to see what shape The Collected was in. But it took me a micro-klick to find the ship as it was now flying about three thousand feet above the ground.

The Collected was now parallel with the Decepticon frigate, and flying so close to the other vessel that a football field couldn't fit between the two ships. There were several large gaping holes in the hull of The Collected that were spitting out fire. One of the engines at the stern of the vessel was badly damaged, the engine was leaving behind a cloud of black smoke where ever the ship went. The neutral ship was in very bad shape, but it wasn't going down without a fight.

I saw that once every few micro-klicks, the turrets on the side of The Collected were launching what appeared to be some kind of blue plasma in the shape of a torpedo at the frigate. The torpedoes were obviously very powerful, even a glancing blow would partially melt the metal it came into contact with. Most of the torpedoes were stopped by the frigate's shield, but a few would get through the 'Cracks' in the shield and cause devastating damage.

Cybertronian shielding was near the apex of shield technology. Instead of one giant field covering a ship at all times, a Cybertronian shield was separated into 'Panels' that would only activate when a threat to a vessel was detected or they were activated manually. Since a ship's reactor was only powering the area of the shield under attack, this allowed the shield to be far more effective against all types of damage, kinetic, directed energy like plasma and radioactive. But smaller warships -such as frigates- didn't have large enough reactors to properly power shields. As a result, their shields had 'Cracks' in beween the shield panels that were large enough for a lucky shot from an enemy ship to get through and damage the vessel the shield was protecting. This was the reason the Decepticon frigate was being hit even though their shield was up.

The Collected and the frigate were in a stalemate, with the Decepticon ship having an advantage with their shielding and superior armor. But The Collected had leveled the playing field with the sheer amount of firepower they were unloading into the frigate, the neutral vessel may have been crippled, but this battle was far from over.

I replied to what Jetfire said. "Let's get on that frigate then," I reopened the doors to my gun ports for emphasis.

Jetfire didn't acknowledge my words, instead, he banked left and started flying toward the Decepticon frigate far below.

I followed Jetfire's example and started flying toward the Decepticon frigate with Springer following close behind, we quickly caught up with Jetfire and continued toward the frigate.

As the three of us flew toward the Decepticon ship, I saw that there was a hanger built into the top of the ship, but its doors were closed. There was a large area in front of the hanger doors that was completely flat except for two massive anti-ship turrets that were likely only used when a ship was flying above the frigate. Looking at hanger doors for a moment, I suspected that was the point Jetfire had spoken of earlier.

"Is the hanger door going to be our entry point?" I asked Jetfire, wanting to confirm my suspicion.

"Yes, our combined firepower should be enough to blast it open, but it seems that we need to get to take care of the welcoming committee first." Jetfire said, as I saw the hanger doors open as we got closer to the frigate.

A half dozen Brute Seekers flew out of the hanger doors just as they opened and were soon followed by at least three times as many ground soldiers before the hanger doors closed again. I saw that two of the ground soldiers were far taller than the others and were both carrying a much larger version of a normal three barreled Ion Displacer. The Decepticon ground soldiers were being led by a pair of Heavy Soldiers, those two could be a problem. But I knew we would deal with the Heavy Soldiers when we needed to, so I shifted my attention back to the incoming Brute Seekers.

The Decepticons opened fire with their chainguns the moment we were in range. I don't know how many times Jetfire and Springer were hit by the chainguns, but I took enough hits that the first layer of my armor was breached and my second layer of armor started taking hits, those chainguns packed a hell of a punch.

I took aim at one of the Brutes and returned fire with a long five micro-klick burst from my Ion Displacer. Not a single round I fired went wide, but the armor on the Brute Seeker was very resistant to my Ion Displacer and it took the entire five micro-klick burst to send the Con offline. Seeing that my Ion Displacer wasn't effective against these Cons, I switched to my Nucleon and fired two shots at another Brute Seeker. Both shots hit the Brute in the fuselage, offlining him instantly.

I looked at Springer as he launched a pair of missiles at another Con. The missiles he launched hit the Brute on opposite sides of his fuselage and caused significant damage, Springer finished the Con off with a sustained burst from his own chaingun.

My earlier feeling that Jetfire was a deadly warrior was accurate. The white and red seeker bombarded two Brute Seekers with dozens of very small, but very effective missiles that left a lingering flame where they hit the Con's armor. The two Brutes Jetfire was focusing on didn't last long under his barrage before they both offlined and fell out of the sky. The final Brute Seeker fired his chaingun at Jetfire as he flew straight at the other seeker, the Con looked like he was going to ram the white and red Autobot.

I was about to shift my flight path to help Jetfire when he hadn't made any effort to get out of the far larger seeker's path, but it was at that moment that Jetfire made his move.

With the same normalcy and casualness of taking a sip of energon from a cube, Jetfire transformed into his true form, dodged the Decepticon's attempt to ram him, pulled a cylinder-shaped object off his hip, stuck it to the Cons wing and reverted to his alt mode. A few micro-klicks after Jetfire changed back into his jet form, there was a large explosion from behind us. Jetfire had planted a grenade on the Con's wing.

After the noise of the explosion subsided, we landed between the two anti-ship turrets. The Decepticon ground soldiers immediately opened fire at us, which caused the three of us to take cover behind bases of the anti-ship turrets. I took cover behind the turret to our left, while Jetfire and Springer took cover behind the one to our right.

I briefly looked around the turret I was using as cover to see what weapons the Decepticons were using. Other than the two Heavy Soldiers, the majority of the Cons were using servo-blasters, but I saw two using Scrapmakers, one with a Thermo Missile Launcher and one using an EMP Shotgun.

I pulled my helm back into cover when a shot hit the side of the turret right in front of my optics. "I think the only real threats are the two Heavy Soldiers." I yelled over to Springer and Jetfire, trying to make sure I could be heard over the gun fire.

"Agreed, but the moment one of us walks out into the open to get a clear shot at either of those Heavy Soldiers, their Ion Displacers will tear us apart." Jetfire yelled back. He started to look around the turret he and Springer were using for cover, but quickly ducked back when one of the Heavy Soldiers started firing his Ion Displacer in his direction.

I deployed my Scatter-Blaster and blindly fired around the turret, I was surprised when I heard a Decepticon cry out in pain after one of my shots. I looked around the turret again and saw that a Decepticon grabbing at his chestplates as he fell to the ground and lay completely still. I had somehow hit the Con directly in the chestplates while I was firing blindly.

I ducked back behind the turret when one of the Heavy Soldiers turned his Ion Displacer towards me. "Got any ideas for how we can take these Cons out quickly?" I hollered over to Jetfire, I backed a bit further away from the corner of the turret as the Heavy Soldier started using my cover as target practice.

"No, I got nothing." Jetfire yelled in reply. "What about you?"

I looked around for a route we could take to possibly flank the Decepticons, but every option that involved leaving the cover of the turrets would likely end with getting mangled by the Ion Displacers of the Heavy Soldiers. Looking up, I searched for a way that we could attack the Cons from above, but this also wouldn't be possible as there wouldn't be anything stopping the Decepticons from tearing us apart when we left our cover. We were stuck behind the only available cover on top of the entire ship, we likely would be offline it wasn't for these turrets.

'The turrets,' I suddenly realized. We were hiding behind two anti-ship weapons. The turrets were more than likely automated or controlled from inside the ship, but all systems could be overwritten if you knew where to look. If we could find a way to control the turrets, we could at the very least blow open the hanger doors, and take out the Cons if we were lucky. I looked along the base of the turret I was using as cover, searching for any type of control panel or circuit switch that we might be able to exploit and gain control of the turret. But after completely searching of my side of the turret -the only side I could search without getting shot- I found nothing.

"Jetfire!" I yelled, gaining the seeker's attention. "Do you see anything over there we can use to take control of the turret you and Springer are using as cover?" I asked, blindly firing several more shots from my Scatter-Blaster.

Jetfire looked at me curiously for a brief moment before he and Springer looked along the base of their turret. Jetfire responded after he and Springer searched the side of the turret for a few micro-klicks. "No, I don't see anything. The control panel is probably located on the bridge."

"But," Springer said. "I've seen turrets like this one before, and I know there's an emergency control panel hidden somewhere on this side." He put his audio receptor close to the side of the turret and tapped his servo several times against the base of the anti-ship weapon. "Haha!" He exclaimed a micro-klick later. "Only I could have found this control panel on the first try," he boasted with a smug grin on his faceplate.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah you're amazing Springer. Can you open the hidden panel now?" I heard Jetfire ask when the Decepticons paused in their shooting for a few micro-klicks.

Springer froze. "Open it?" He asked in a confused tone, as if he had never heard someone request such a thing.

I face-palmed. "Are you fragging kidding me Springer? You know where to find a hidden control panel on this type of turret, but you don't know how to open it?" I asked with an incredulous tone and a look on my faceplate that mirrored my tone.

The Cons started shooting again before Springer responded to my words. "Hey, don't blame me!" He yelled over. "I only would find the control panels, it was Wheeljack's job to find a way to access them."

I sighed loudly and shook my helm as I started looking around again for a possible way for us to take out the Cons easily. Springer's words confirmed my suspicion that he was a Wrecker along with Bulkhead, but I was too focused on trying to formulate another plan to care that much. After I had kept thinking about ways to get past the Cons, I gave up trying to come up with a plan. If we wanted to get inside the frigate, then our only option was to step out of cover rush toward the hanger doors with our guns blazing. But those Heavy Soldiers would ensure we wouldn't live long enough to reach the doors, let alone open them and get inside the frigate.

I looked over at Jetfire to ask him what he thought we should do, try rushing the Decepticons, or retreat. I didn't have time to open my mouth before something very unexpected happened.

The entire time we had been pinned by the Cons, The Collected and the Decepticon frigate were still exchanging fire. The Collected fired a barrage of plasma torpedoes at its opponent at the same moment I looked over to Jetfire, four of these torpedoes were heading straight towards the hanger doors while the others headed for other parts of the frigate. Of the four plasma torpedoes that were on track to hit the hanger doors, three were stopped by the frigate's shields while the forth slipped in between the shield panels and continued on its journey. The torpedo impacted less than a micro-klick after it passed the shield, and unlike the other torpedoes I had seen glance off the frigate, this was a direct hit.

The resulting explosion from the plasma torpedo was so powerful that my fellow Autobots and I were knocked off our pedes as the frigate was literally thrown off course. The frigate flew sideways for several micro-klicks before righting its flight path, but the ship seemed to be limping along as it was listing slightly to the left. The plasma torpedo must have done significant damage to the ship's engines as well.

I was the first one to get back on my pedes after we were all knocked down, I that saw smoke colored in unusual blue hue was already billowing far above out helms. I also didn't hear any gunfire from the Decepticons, so I cautiously looked around the turret as I deployed my Scatter-Blaster. I wasn't going to need it.

The plasma torpedo had turned most of the area in front of the hanger doors into molten metal that was glowing the same shade of blue as the smoke. There was no doubt in my CPU that the Decepticons had been turned into ash the moment the plasma torpedo hit, the only reason we didn't join them in oblivion were the turrets we had been using as cover, and they too were melted on the opposite side we took cover behind.

"Holy slag," Springer said as he stepped up next to me, looking around at the aftermath of the plasma torpedo with surprise written on his faceplate.

Now that I wasn't preoccupied with trying to find a way to get passed the Decepticons, I took note of what Springer actually looked like instead of what his helicopter form looked like. His optics -of course- were blue like all Autobots. He was tall, about three feet taller than Bulkhead and also much leaner. But for some reason I wouldn't doubt it if was stronger than Bulkhead. The rotors on his helicopter form had folded themselves together on his backplates, giving Springer a sword he could pull of his backplates. The missile pods I had seen him use earlier were now located on his shoulder-joints, unlike my missile launchers, however, they didn't seem to be able to fold into his shoulder-joints. His chaingun was also now fitted to the side of his servo. The last thing I noticed was the fact Springer had wheels on his pedes similar to my own, he was a Triple-Changer like I was.

I was brought out of my thoughts by Jetfire as he came over and stood next to me as well.

"We should get moving, we still need to get to the main reactor and overload it." He started walking toward the destroyed hanger doors after he spoke.

"What will our escape plan be after we overload the main reactor?" I asked while stepping around a patch of molten metal in my path.

"The same way we're going in, the hanger. We won't have enough time to find another escape route before the reactor detonates and destroys the ship." Jetfire said calmly, sounding unconcerned by the possibility of still being on the ship when the reactor blew.

I suspected Jetfire was going to say something like that, so I didn't reply as we got closer to the hanger.

The hanger itself was about twice my height and about the same length as a football field, what had once been the hanger doors were now puddles of molten metal spread across the inside of the hanger. I could see an elevator on the far side of the hanger that was more than likely going to be our way inside the frigate.

Springer responded to Jetfire's words. "That's reassuring. It would be a tragedy if I was offlined because I couldn't find my way off a ship," the green Triple-Changer joked in a dry tone as we entered the hanger.

"And it would be more of a tragedy if The Collected was destroyed and all those neutrals were offlined." I said, as we approached the elevator at the far end of the hanger.

"Way to make my joke not funny Shadowstreaker." Springer huffed, and leaned against the wall as we stepped into the elevator.

I saw Jetfire roll his optics at Springer's words as he walked over to the elevator's control panel. "That joke wasn't funny in the first place Springer," he said and pressed a button on the control panel that started the elevator.

"Neither of you are any fun," Springer said with a sigh of boredom.

We rode the elevator in silence until Jetfire spoke. "The Decepticons will be prepared for us, I'd get your weapons ready." He said, transforming his servo into a type of machine gun I had never seen before that looked like it fired tiny missiles, it was the weapon Jetfire used against the Brute Seekers.

Springer pulled his sword off his backplates and held it in the servo that didn't have his chaingun attached to it. The missile pods on his shoulder-joints moved slightly as he prepared for battle.

I got ready by deploying my Ion Displacer and the sword on my left servo. I spun up the barrels of my Ion Displacer as the lift continued taking us down, ready to unload over seven thousand rounds a klick into any Decepticons that might be waiting to ambush us.

Springer looked at my Ion Displacer for a moment, then he looked at the chaingun attached to his servo, and then back between the two weapons again before he looked at my Ion Displacer with trace of envy in his optics. "Show off," he mumbled at me, and started glaring accusingly at his chaingun like it was the weapon's fault I had an Ion Displacer and he didn't.

"I am the Autobot's heavy weapons specialist, it's my job to carry the artillery into battle," I said to Springer, I didn't like being called a show off when I tried to be as humble as possible.

"Yeah, yeah you have a real reason for carrying around an Ion Displacer and that Nucleon Shock Cannon we saw you use against those Cons," Springer said as he looked up at me . "Still isn't fair how you have an Ion Displacer and I don't," he huffed, and looked back at the elevator doors as began to slow in our descent.

The elevator took a few micro-klicks to completely stop and open the doors, we were immediately greeted by a half dozen Decepticons pointing their weapons at us, they never stood a chance.

The battle lasted just one and half micro-klicks. In that time my Ion Displacer had fired one hundred and eighty times, and few shots missed since we were so close to the Decepticons. Four Cons were turned into little more than piles of scrap metal as I mowed them down with my favorite weapon. The other two Decepticons were offlined by Springer's chaingun and Jetfire's missiles.

"Come on," Jetfire said. "Let's find the main reactor." He stepped over the offlined Decepticons and started walking down the hallway that our elevator led to.

Seeing that the hallway wasn't very wide, I returned my Ion Displacer to my backplates and deployed my Scatter-Blaster. I kept my sword out as we were now in close quarters and I preferred my sword in confined spaces over my Plasma Chaingun.

"Attention all Decepticons!" A voice blared over a loudspeaker. "We have intruders aboard the ship, you are ordered to intercept and turn them into scrap!" The voice yelled furiously and then went silent.

"This should be fun," Springer said, almost sounding eager for the Decepticons to attack us.

"Your definition of 'Fun' is very different than mine is Springer," I said, as we almost ran straight into a group of three Decepticons when we rounded a corner.

The Cons were quickly offlined by a double tap from my Scatter-Blaster, a slice from Springer's sword and a few missiles from Jetfire's fully automatic missile launcher. We continued before their chassis' had finish hitting the floor.

"Or you just don't like having fun," Springer said to me, laughing slightly at his own joke.

I sighed at Springer, but didn't reply as we continued running down the hallway in search of the main reactor.

We had a few more firefights with the Decepticons as we searched for the reactor, but they didn't slow us down for more than a few klicks at each encounter. After one particular fight with the Cons, we came to a very large and heavily built circular door that could only be the door leading to the reactor.

"Looks like we found the reactor, but they've locked it down from the bridge." Jetfire said, pointing a digit at a control panel next to the door that looked like it wasn't receiving power.

"So how are we gonna get in then?" Springer asked.

"We don't have the firepower, I doubt even that Nucleon Shadowstreaker is carrying could get through this door." Jetfire said, looking up at the massive door with a thoughtful look on his faceplate, likely trying to come up with a plan for getting the door open.

I looked at the seeker. "My Nucleon can fire a charged shot," my words caused Springer and Jetfire to gaze at me curiously. "I won't be able to fire the Nucleon for several klicks afterward, and I have never used a charged shot outside a shooting range, but it might be able to blast through the door." I wasn't entirely certain if my charged up shot would get through the door. Sure I had completely incinerated a building the first time I had used it, but that was human material and I had no idea how much damage it would do to Cybertronian alloys.

"By all means Shadowstreaker," Jetfire said, gesturing to the door. "Fire away."

"Let's back up a bit then, I've never fired a charged shot in a confined space," I said, and started walking down the hallway to get to a safe distance.

Springer and Jetfire followed me down the hallway and when we had moved as far away from the door as we could go, I deployed my Nucleon and immediately started charging a shot.

Both Springer and Jetfire took a step away from me when they heard the almost terrifying hum my Nucleon was making as I let the Shock Cannon charge a shot.

After my Shock Cannon had charged for three micro-klicks, I braced myself for the recoil and fired the Nucleon.

The charged shot from the Shock Cannon hit directly in the center of the door, the following explosion was thunderous and far too bright for me to see anything, but after a few micro-klicks I could see the aftermath just fine. The door to the reactor was quite simply gone, along with the surrounding bulkheads and a small part of the reactor itself... And also one side of the ship.

The Decepticon frigate now had massive hole in the hull that was caused by my Nucleon. I could now look outside the hole in the frigate's hull and see an unobstructed view of the Sahara. I would have been enjoying the view if it wasn't for the fact we were in grave danger of being vaporized by the reactor. There were alarms echoing throughout the frigate that were saying things like 'Imminent reactor detonation' and 'Evacuate immediately' it was nice to know the ship was about to explode.

"Well at least we don't have to go back to the elevator." Springer said, he ran towards the hole in the hull and jumped out of the ship, I saw his helicopter form flying away from the frigate a moment later.

I returned the Nucleon to my backplates as Jetfire followed after Springer and jumped out of the ship and flew away. I was about to follow as well when I was suddenly hit in the wing by a missile. Before I could cry out from the pain of getting shot in the wing, I was tackled to the floor by a Decepticon.

The Decepticon pinned me to the floor for a brief moment before I kicked him off me and got back to my pedes, ignoring the searing pain in my left wing. My opponent was heavily built and stood only five feet shorter than I did. His chassis was blue and grey in color, and his yellow optics were a very unusual color for a Cybertronian.

"Oh, look at this," the unnamed Con said smugly. "An Autobot Triple-Changer, I've always wanted to offline one of you." Without another word, he transformed his right servo into a large warhammer and charged at me.

I didn't deploy my swords as since they would probably break if they got hit by the Con's hammer. The Decepticon swung at my helm, which caused me to duck.

I threw a punch at the Decepticon's tank, expecting the Con to at least grunt in pain, but he didn't even react to my blow and swung his hammer at me again. I dodged his attack again and threw another punch, aiming at his helm this time.

The Decepticon looked stunned by my punch for a moment before he shook his helm and threw a punch of his own, but this was a mistake as I could block a punch far better than a hammer.

I blocked his punch with my right servo and countered with a left cross and then a hard jap to the tank and finally an uppercut, which sent the Decepticon onto his backplates in a daze. I didn't have the time to continue this fight, so I started walking to the hole in the hull, but was stopped dead in my tracks when something touched my neck and a blindingly painful electric current went through my frame. I was quickly sent faceplate down on the floor, struggling to stay online.

"That was easy," the voice of a new Decepticon said arrogantly. The new Con spoke to the one I had been fighting. "What was that about you offlining him in a micro-klick Breakdown?" He mocked, sounding like he was moving over to the other Decepticon as I heard his voice get further away.

I shook my helm and quickly recovered from whatever the Con hit me with. I started getting back up on my pedes slowly and quietly, trying to avoid being seen by the two Decepticons and turned toward their voices.

A Decepticon I hadn't seen before was kneeling next to the one I had fought. He was about Ratchet's height from what I could tell. Appropriate since the Con had the same two colors for his frame's paint, but instead of white and red like Ratchet, this Con had the opposite scheme, red and white. In his servos was an Energon Staff that was arcing with some kind of electricity, it was the weapon the Con hit me with. I also caught a quick look at the second Decepticon's optics, they were fire engine red and filled arrogance, but also amusement as he watched his comrade try and get up from the floor on his own and fail every time.

"The... Frag Knockout?... I was just... About to take him out," the Decepticon I now knew was called Breakdown said slowly, obviously still dazed from when I sent him to the floor. He tried getting up from the floor again and fell back down to the floor before he could even get into a sitting position.

The second Decepticon whose name was Knockout put his Energon Staff down on the floor and put one of Breakdown's servos around his shoulder-joints to help him up from the floor.

While Knockout was focused on helping Breakdown get up, I reached down and picked up the Energon Staff he left on the floor. Once I picked up the Staff, I waited for Knockout and Breakdown to notice me standing there.

Knockout finally got Breakdown up from the floor, with the much larger Breakdown leaning heavily on the smaller mech. Knockout spoke Breakdown. "Now let's offline this Autobot and get off the... Ship..." Knockout trailed off when he saw me standing with his Energon Staff in my servo.

I stabbed Knockout's shoulder-joint with the Staff the moment after he spoke, his frame to became a conduit for the electricity from the Energon Staff, and Breakdown was electrocuted along with Knockout.

I dropped the Staff on the floor and walked over to the hole in the hull as both Cons fell on their backplates. They were immobilized for the moment, but that would change, and I needed to get off the frigate. Unfortunately, my options for getting off the frigate were very limited. Flying was not a possibility, I could tell just from the amount of pain I was in that the missile Breakdown shot me with had blown a hole in my wing, making flying out impossible. I only had one option, jumping out of a ship nearly a kilometer in the air.

"This is going to hurt," I said to myself just before I jumped out of the frigate.

Ten micro-klicks of free falling later, I hit a large sand dune at an angle and rolled until I eventually came to rest faceplate down in the sand. Surprisingly, the fall hadn't injured me any further than I had already been, my wing still hurt like hell which wasn't a surprise. But no new injuries other than my wing.

Being careful not to move my wing to much, I picked myself up off the ground and spit sand out of my mouth that I had almost swallowed when I hit the sand dune. I was slightly irritated to find that my armor was covered in sand, so much sand in fact that my armor was almost yellow instead of its usual jet black. I dusted off my armor and soon returned my armor to its usual color, but I knew the sand had likely gotten beneath my armor, meaning the sand was going to be very annoying to clean out when I visited the washracks.

Hearing an explosion from above me, I stopped dusting myself off and looked back up at the frigate.

The damaged reactor on the Decepticon ship had finally overloaded, and now the ship was being rocked by a series of small explosions, but were gradually becoming larger and more violent. I saw an escape pod launch from the frigate while The Collected flew away from the other ship as the explosions started increasing in their intensity. The Decepticon frigate was suddenly consumed in a blinding light that blazed like a second sun as it detonated in a colossal explosion that made all the explosions before it look like a fire cracker. When the light faded, the frigate was reduced to small burning sections of metal that were falling from the sky.

As what remained of the frigate fell from the sky, I heard the sounds of several types of engines approaching my position from behind me. The engine noises ranged from the deep roar of Optimus' engine, to the high-pitched whine I knew belonged to Arcee's motorcycle form.

I turned around in time to see a few of my fellow Autobots drive over another sand dune and head towards me with Arcee leading the way. I saw Bulkhead was driving with the other Autobots, Ratchet must have ground bridged him here when he got to base. Oddly, I didn't see Optimus, Bumblebee or Prowl among the Autobots approaching me.

Arcee was the first one to reach me and she gracefully changed into her true form and stopped directly in front of me. "Your handiwork I presume?" She asked, putting a servo on her hip as she looked up at the last falling pieces of the frigate.

"Yes, but not intentionally though," I said meekly, wanting to avoid a possible compliment, even if the compliment was from the femme I had a crush on.

Arcee looked at my wing, apparently just noticing there was a hole in it. "What hit your wing?" She asked. Arcee gave me a sympathetic look as she spoke, knowing my damaged wing was causing me great discomfort.

I winced as the pain in my wing spiked for a moment. "A Decepticon shot it with a missile." I responded once the pain had subsided. I saw that the other Autobots had changed into their true forms and were now walking towards Arcee and I.

"That would explain why we saw you jump out of the frigate. That was some stunt you pulled kid," Bulkhead said with a laugh.

"I would have flown out, but Breakdown didn't give me a-" I started to say before Bulkhead cut me off.

"Wait, Breakdown is here?" Bulkhead asked me, visibly upset by the mention of the Con's name.

"Yes," I said. "He was the one who shot my wing," the pain in my wing spiked again immediately after I spoke, making me grind my dentas and suck in a pained breath.

Moonracer pulled a small medical kit out of her sub-space and started walking over to me. "Try not to move too much, it will just cause you more pain," she instructed, and started treating my injured wing.

I hissed in pain as Moonracer started treating my injury, but I ignored the pain and tried not to move as I looked back at Bulkhead. "You and Breakdown have a history I take it?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, we have quite the history," Bulkhead said bitterly. He was starting to pace in the sand, and I saw something in Bulkhead's optics I had never seen before, fury. Bulkhead's history with Breakdown must be really ugly if the green Wrecker was this pissed out that he was on Earth.

I didn't have time to ask Bulkhead another question before I heard a jet's engine and a helicopter's rotors cutting through the air, I suspected Springer and Jetfire were approaching.

My suspicion was confirmed when I saw Springer and Jetfire fly over a different sand dune than the others had arrived from and transformed a couple hundred yards away from us.

Bulkhead's mood changed as soon as he saw his fellow Wrecker. "Springer!" He said happily, as he ran over and practically crushed Springer in a brotherly hug.

"Oh no," I heard Arcee say under her breath so quietly that I doubt anyone else heard her speak.

I looked at Arcee curiously as she watched Bulkhead and Springer greet each other. She was looking right at Springer with nothing but contempt in her optics, which made me wonder why she clearly disliked Springer. From what I had seen of Springer he was arrogant and made bad jokes, but not so much that I disliked him anywhere close to how much Arcee did judging by the look in her optics. Unfortunately, I was about to find out why Arcee disliked Springer so much.

"Come on Springer, you gotta meet this kid over here." Bulkhead said as he lead Jetfire and Springer over towards us.

"We've already met Bulkhead," I said. "Jetfire, Springer," I greeted the two other Autobots as they stepped in front of me.

Jetfire acknowledged my greeting with a polite nod, but Springer ignored me as he was looking at Arcee, or leering at her would be a better term.

"Hello Springer," Arcee said to the green Triple-Changer an even voice, but I could tell she was barely containing her anger as Springer leered at her.

"Hey gorgeous," Springer greeted Arcee in a devious tone. "Still rocking those hips I see..." his optics looked Arcee's chassis up and down twice as he rudely ogled at Arcee. "And everything else as well," He finished with a wink, making Arcee's optics smolder with anger as he continued leering at her.

I felt my own anger well up within me the instant Springer first started leering at Arcee and I got the sudden and almost overwhelming urge to hit Springer in his faceplate as hard as I could. But unlike Arcee, I gave no indication I was angry at Springer, but just simply disapproved of the way he was speaking and looking at her. I could not, however, stop my left optic from twitching slightly, which was a clear indication I more than a little pissed at how Springer was looking at Arcee.

My optic twitch went unnoticed by all expect Jetfire, who gave me a brief curious look before turning to Arcee as she spoke.

"Springer," Arcee said as she folded her servos over her chestplates. "How many times will I have to tell you that I am not, and never will be, interested in you? Do yourself a favor and back off," Arcee warned dangerously and started walking away in the direction she and the others had arrived in a furious manner.

Springer's optics wandered unsubtly as Arcee walked away. "I like how she's so feisty," he said, letting his optics wander lower as he spoke.

I decided that I didn't like Springer at that moment. His arrogance I could stand, not everyone was humble. The bad jokes I could stand as well, but leering at a femme was something I couldn't stand. The fact it was Arcee that he had been ogling had something to do with my decision not to like Springer judging by how my spark was reacting, but I still wouldn't like Springer if he had been leering at a different femme.

Jetfire smacked Springer in the back of the helm in a very Gibbs-like fashion after Arcee walked away. "Control your fragged up CPU youngling," he scolded.

"What? It's not like I was actually doing anything," Springer said. "I was just admiring the view, and what a nice view it was." He finished with a laugh that made him sound like a sleazy jock, which didn't seem like too much of a stretch considering how he behaved towards Arcee.

Moonracer finished repairing my wing and walked around from my backplates. "I have done what I can, but you will need to visit the med-bay to finish your repairs, especially the damage to your armor." She said as she pointed to the section of my armor that was breached. Moonracer didn't say anything else to me and started walking in the same direction Arcee had, but she stopped for a moment and gave Springer a peeved look. "I have a feeling that someday soon you will regret having that mouth of yours Springer," she continued walking away without another word.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Springer asked Bulkhead as Moonracer walked away.

"I believe she just called you a dumbaft, that or a piece of slag, take your pick." I said as flexed my wing experimentally, pleased to find that no more pain was spiking in my wing.

Springer huffed, but didn't say anything else.

"We should probably get back to Optimus, he sent us to find you after we saw you fall from the frigate Shadowstreaker." Bulkhead said, starting to walk in the same direction as Arcee and Moonracer as he gestured for us to follow him.

"Why?" I asked, as Jetfire, Springer and I followed Bulkhead.

"We encountered Wildwing's creators earlier, they wanted to meet the temporary care-takers of their sparkling before being reunited with Wildwing." Bulkhead explained, which caused Jetfire and Springer to get confused looks on their faceplates.

"You are one of the temporary care-takers of a sparkling?" Jetfire asked me while Bulkhead answered a similar question from Springer.

I nodded. "Yes, Wildwing had been in an escape pod for two solar-cycles before he crash landed on the top of our base. Arcee and I were the first to speak with him, so he picked us as his temporary care-takers." I said as we started walking up the sand dune Bulkhead, Moonracer and Arcee had driven over earlier.

"Poor mechling," Jetfire said. "How long have you and Arcee been his temporary care-takers?" The seeker asked.

I briefly looked at Springer and Bulkhead as they both gave a short laugh, they were likely swapping war stories. "Arcee and I have been Wildwing's temporary care-takers for almost two mega-cycles." I answered as we started walking down the opposite side of the sand dune.

Jetfire and I continued walking in silence while Bulkhead and Springer traded war stories. The four of us eventually found ourselves among the offlined of chassis of Decepticons and a few neutrals. The battle had been waged on the ground as well as in the air.

Neutrals were carrying the offlined Cybertronians away from where they fell and were burying them in graves dug into the sand to let them rest in peace away from the prying eyes of humans.

I saw that The Collected had landed on the ground a couple kilometers away. The neutral vessel was heavily damaged, several of its decks were exposed and I could see neutrals were hard at work repairing the ship as best as they could.

I looked away from The Collected and saw Optimus, Prowl, Moonracer and Arcee standing and speaking with a mech and femme about fifty yards in front of us. The mech and femme were presumably Wildwing's creators. But I still didn't see Bumblebee anywhere, strange.

Optimus looked over at us when he noticed our arrival. "Autobots, this is Flightstom and Cyberfrost. They are Wildwing's carrier and sire." The Prime said, gesturing to the mech and femme I hadn't seen before.

Flightstorm was roughly Bulkhead's height, perhaps slightly taller and he had wings on his backplates. He was mostly grey in color with red trim along his wings, shoulder-joints and servos. The mech's optics were red, but they held no malice or anger. Instead, his optics were calm and peaceful, which led me to believe he was once a Decepticon and left their ranks before the war got ugly. The handle of a sword was on his backplates and I saw a pistol attached to his hip, he clearly preferred to battle in close quarters.

Cyberfrost was very short, I estimated her height at about eight feet shorter than Arcee and Moonracer's height, which put Cyberfrost at roughly seventeen feet tall. She was white in color and had navy blue accents on every limb. A few of these accents flowed into artistic designs that I believe she painted herself, meaning she is, or at least was, an artist. Cyberfrost's optics were silver in color, which was a very uncommon color for Cybertronians. I saw no visible weapons, but that didn't mean she didn't have any.

Cyberfrost was the first to speak after Optimus did. "You must be Shadowstreaker," she said in English, giving me a sweet smile as she spoke. I got the impression that she smiled a lot.

"I am," I replied as I folded my servos behind my backplates, while Bulkhead walked away with Springer and Jetfire.

Flightstorm then spoke. "We cannot fully express our gratitude to you and Arcee for taking care of our son." He said honestly.

"It was our pleasure, it is impossible not to enjoy having Wildwing around with his personality." Arcee said with a smile.

"I agree with that. His penchant for heights was an issue at times, but not very often, and his legitimate curiosity about anything he hadn't seen before made him fun to be around." I said with a smile of my own.

Cyberfrost laughed at the mention of Wildwing's love of heights. "He loves heights just like his sire," she said with a smile, and patted her sparkmate on the servo affectionately.

"He's a seekerlet, I would be concerned if he didn't like heights," Flightstorm said with a slight laugh.

Flightstorm spoke again. "I do not want to seem rude, but can we continue our conversation at your base? I want to see my son again." She said anxiously as Flightstorm put a comforting servo on her shoulder-joint.

"I am surprised that you did not ask sooner, it is perfectly fine with me," I said with a shrug.

"It's fine with me as well, you two have waited more than long enough to see your son again." Arcee said, sounding slightly surprised Cyberfrost was asking if it was okay to continue our conversation back at base.

Cyberfrost smiled in relief and looked up at Optimus. "Can my sparkmate and I please be reunited with our son?" She asked the Prime, Cyberfrost looked slightly comical as she looked up at Optimus since she was barely a third of his height.

Optimus didn't say anything to her, but instead opened a communications channel to base. "Optimus to base, requesting ground bridge." That was all Optimus said before closing the channel and looking back down at Cyberfrost. "It is our honor to reunite you with your sparkling." A ground bridge appeared behind Optimus as he spoke. The Prime stepped off to the side so Cyberfrost and Flightstorm had a clear path to the ground bridge.

Cyberfrost gave Optimus a grateful look before half walking and half running through the ground bridge. Her sparkmate followed after her in a much more calm and ordered manner, but was still walking with excitement in his step.

"Autobots, return to base, we will need to find alt modes for our new arrivals." Optimus said, waving Bulkhead, Jetfire and Springer over to where we were standing.

I looked around to see if Bumblebee was nearby since we were returning to base and he wasn't here, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Where's Bumblebee?" I asked Arcee.

"He had to be medevaced after catching the full force of a Brute's hammer," she said with a grimace, clearly feeling sorry for the yellow and black scout.

"That hurts, and I say that from experience." I said, recalling when I got hit by the Brute in the Amazon.

After Jetfire, Bulkhead and Springer walked over to us, we all stepped through the ground bridge.

* * *

><p><strong>July 6, 2012 6:22 A.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

One of the first things I saw when we returned to base was Cyberfrost giving Wildwing a tight hug while tears of joy were streaking down her faceplate.

Flightstorm was standing next to Cyberfrost while he hugged both his sparkling and his sparkmate with his much larger servos.

"Oh my Little 'Wing," Cyberfrost said joyfully. "I missed you so much," she hugged Wildwing a little tighter and kissed the top of his helm.

"I missed you and sire too carrier," Wildwing replied happily, wrapping his tiny servos around his carrier's neck as he returned her hug as best he could.

"Life's precious moments." I said to Arcee as we all stepped around the reunited family so we wouldn't interrupt their reunion.

"Indeed," Arcee responded, watching the reunion between Wildwing and his creators with a fond smile on her faceplate.

I saw Prowl lead Jetfire and Springer out of the ops center to another part of the base while Optimus and Moonracer went to the med-bay to check on Bumblebee and speak with Ratchet. Bulkhead, Arcee and I stayed in the ops center with the reunited family.

We stood in silence for several klicks before Flightstorm spoke to us. "I believe we were going to continue our earlier conversation?" He asked, as he continued hugging his family.

That was what started our conversation again. The six of us talked about various things for more than three breems, including the histories of Wildwing's creators. We found out that Flightstorm had indeed been a Decepticon like I guessed. He left the Con ranks when Megatron declared war and from the look in his optics when we spoke of Megatron, he despised Megatron for all the destruction his hunger for power had caused. Flightstorm was relieved to find out that Megatron was offline.

I had guessed Cyberfrost's past correctly as well. She had been a neutral artist before the war and was on one of the first of many evac ships when the masses started evacuating Cybertron. Cyberfrost had met Flightstorm on the same evac ship and the rest was history.

At some point, Bumblebee, Ratchet and Moonracer joined our conversation as well. How Bumblebee convinced Ratchet to let him out of the med-bay I do not know.

The origin of the neutral's ship, The Collected, was brought up at one point in our very long conversation, turns out it is a long story.

Three vorns ago, Flightstorm and a -at the time- carrying Cyberfrost and a hundred other neutrals aboard an old Cybertronian freighter happened across a massive number of destroyed ships orbiting a mostly devastated garden world. The system they found the ships was in a system located in what the humans called the Scutum-Centaurus Arm of this galaxy. After searching the planets surrounding the field of destroyed ships, they discovered the historical files of the species the destroyed ships had once belonged to. An organic race called the Calvori.

From the description Flightstorm and Cyberfrost gave. The Calvori are an unusually long-lived reptilian race, with the average lifespan of a Calvorian being around fifty vorns, which is unheard of for an organic race. Calvorian society is warrior-based, respect and wealth is earned from defeating worthy enemies and certain accomplishments preformed in battle. But surprisingly, Calvori have a relatively peaceful history with few full blown wars and just numerous battles. Calvorians are very large for organics. Calvori males average nearly fifteen feet in height and two tons in weight with long almost crocodile-like snouts and a large powerful spiked tail that they usually drag on the ground. Calvori females were very different from males, usually only standing about eight feet in height and well under a quarter of that weight. But unlike males, Calvori females had no snouts or tails, and were very human like in appearance. Unlike almost every other organic society, Calvori females were just as respected, if not more so, as Calvori males from very early in their history.

But something the Calvori were not very gifted in was development of technology, they would often go a dozens of generations before making a noticeable improvement in technology. As a result of their slow technological advancement and their long lives, it took Calvorians nearly five hundred centi-vorns to achieve space flight after they started using nuclear power, and fifty centi-vorns before they started going into space themselves. Due to their warrior culture, Calvorians had several thousand warships in their possession by the time they started their colonization of their home system and the surrounding star cluster.

As it turned out, Cybertronians had stored a large amount of energon on a planet in the Calvorian's star cluster and the Calvori discovered it in their travels, but this discovery would lead to their destruction.

Megatron detected the energon being unearthed by the Calvori and redirected the entire Decepticon fleet in the Milky Way galaxy to Calvori space, where the Decepticon fleet obliterated the Calvorian ships and recovered the energon. But Megatron didn't stop at the destruction of just a fleet of Calvorian ships, he started the complete genocide of the Calvorian race itself.

For an orbital cycle, the Calvorians fought off the Decepticon onslaught above their colonized worlds, but the outcome always ended with the Calvorian ships getting slaughtered by the Decepticon fleet and then the world the Calvori died defending was turned to glass and made completely uninhabitable. The last battle had been fought over the Calvorian homeworld, and it too was made uninhabitable by the Decepticons. But the Calvorian homeworld wasn't completely destroyed, and a small population of Calvori are still surviving and rebuilding at a rate that is slow even to them. When the neutrals had arrived at the homeworld of the Calvori three vorns ago, it had been eight thousand centi-vorns since the Calvori were attacked by the Decepticons. But they were only their second bronze age, and at the rate they progressed with technology, it would be countless vorns before they were back to flying among the stars.

So the answer to The Collected's origin was that the neutrals salvaged a long destroyed Calvorian frigate and reformatted it for our physiology, and so The Collected was born. But apparently the neutrals usually only used The Collected for reconnaissance.

The neutrals had also salvaged what they guessed had once been the capital warship of the entire Calvorian navy and reformatted it for our physiology as well. The result after the reformat was the Apex Sentinel, a ship of gargantuan size and tremendous power that the neutrals used as a warship, repair station and liveship. Flightstorm was the executive officer of the Apex Sentinel, and The Collected would start its journey back to the other ship at his order, which seemed to come too soon.

"We need to start our trip back to the Apex," Flightstorm said. "The journey will likely take at least another two mega-cycles now that The Collected is in need of repairs."

Wildwing looked up at his sire from where he was still being held by Cyberfrost. "We're leaving this cycle? But I wanted to show you all the interesting things on this planet." He said in a disappointed voice.

Flightstorm sighed lightly. "I am afraid so my son," he said regretfully.

"Aww," Wildwing whined in a depressed voice as he set his helm and his carrier's shoulder-joint, clearly wanting to stay on Earth for a while longer.

Cyberfrost frowned sadly at her sparkling. "Just because we are leaving now does not mean we will not come back sometime." She said sweetly, trying to comfort he saddened sparkling.

Wildwing seemed to get a bit of his usual cheer. "Really?" He asked hopefully.

"It's possible, now that we know we have friends here we might visit at some point." Flightstorm said, smiling at how his sparkling changed moods so quickly.

"Yay!" Wildwing exclaimed happily. "But are we going now?" He asked a bit uncertainly.

"Unfortunately yes," Flightstorm said, causing Wildwing's wings to droop slightly in sadness. "But we will say our goodbyes before we do." Flightstom added when he saw Wildwing's disappointment.

Cyberfrost set Wildwing down on the floor and the seekerlet ran over to where Bumblebee was being supported by Cybertronian sized metal crutches.

"I can tell he will miss you two a lot," Cyberfrost said to Arcee and I.

I nodded. "And we all will miss him," I said, smiling slightly as Wildwing hugged Bumblebee's pede.

"Flight' and I cannot thank you two enough for taking care of Wildwing." Cyberfrost said with a thankful smile on her faceplate. Wildwing's carrier stretched her servos out and looked at Arcee. "Do you mind if I give you a hug? I want to give you something for what you've done, and a hug is all I can offer at the moment." She laughed.

Arcee laughed as well. "Of course," she said, and stretched out her servos as well.

Cyberfrost pulled Arcee into a friendly hug without another word. I saw that Cyberfrost whispered something into Arcee's audio reseptor, but I couldn't hear what she said. Whatever Cyberfrost had whispered caused Arcee to give her a strange look, like she was confused by what the other femme had whispered to her.

I didn't have any time to guess what Cyberfrost had said to Arcee before Flightstorm stepped directly in front of me.

"You and Arcee forever have my thanks Shadowstreaker." The former Decepticon held a servo out for me to shake, which I did firmly. "Wildwing could not have had better care-takers while he was on Earth, and for that I thank you for taking care of him." He said gratefully.

"It was a pleasure having him here," I said honestly.

Flightstorm leaned a next to my audio receptor in a similar manner that Cyberfrost leaned next to Arcee's. "You're very, very good at hiding your emotions, but I am better at reading them. The way you feel towards Arcee is understandable, and good luck keeping yourself fooled kid." He whispered, and stepped away without another word.

I didn't give any indication that I was affected in any way by what Flightstorm had just whispered, but I was surprised that the former Decepticon knew about my crush on Arcee after just a few breems of talking with him. I was going to have to do a better job of keeping myself from giving a hint I had a crush on Arcee to prevent anyone else from finding out.

I was brought out of my brief thoughts when I saw that Wildwing had finished saying goodbye to Moonracer and was walking over to Arcee and I. We both crouched down so we were on his level.

Wildwing wrapped his servos around Arcee's neck in a tight hug. "This is for telling me stories before I recharged," he said.

Arcee laughed lightly. "Haha, you're welcome Wildwing." She said, giving Wildwing a hug back as she spoke.

Wildwing let go of Arcee's neck and climbed up onto my helm, much to the amusement of his creators. "This is for giving me a great place to climb all the time," he said with a happy smile.

I offered him a servo down. "Anytime Wildwing," I said with a smile of my own as I set him back on the floor.

Instead of going back over to his creators like I expected he would, Wildwing ran over to the stairway leading up to the catwalks and pulled two square-shaped objects out from beneath the stairs. Both of the objects were covered with a cloth on one side and the other side looked to be made out of canvas, both of them were almost Wildwing's height and just as wide as they were tall.

"And these," Wildwing said as he reached Arcee and I and set one object in front of each of us. "Are for taking care of me. Pick up the cloth!" He said cheerfully, while his carrier picked him up again.

Arcee and I shared a curious look before obliging Wildwing's request and removed the cloths covering the objects he placed in front of us. What was under the cloth surprised me.

The objects Wildwing had placed in front of us were pictures that looked like that had been created using nothing more than a pencil.

My picture was Wildwing sitting up on my helm while I stood on top of the base and looked out into the surrounding canyon. He had gotten every detail incredibly accurate, he somehow even got the silver mark on the side of my helm, and his fuchsia optics correct. The fact that Wildwing had obviously drawn this from scratch since he was in the picture too made it all the more impressive.

The picture that was in front of Arcee was of her gesturing with her servos while Wildwing laughed as he layed on a berth. I guessed that the picture was Arcee telling Wildwing a story. It also looked like it was drawn from a pencil, but he had different colored pencils so he got Arcee's colors just right.

"These are incredible Wildwing, thank you." I said, as I stood up to my full height with the picture in my servo.

"I second that Wildwing," Arcee said, also picking up her picture and standing back up.

"Oh it was nothing," Wildwing dismissed, sounding embarrassed that we were speaking so highly of the pictures he drew.

"Your carrier is proud of you for making such great pictures my Little 'Wing," Cyberfrost said affectionately, giving Wildwing kiss on the top of his helm.

Wildwing looked more embarrassed that his carrier was speaking highly of his pictures as well, but didn't say anything.

"I believe it is time that we left," Flightstorm said, causing Ratchet to walk over to the ground bridge controls and activate the bridge.

"I hope we all meet again," I said as Wildwing and his creators turned to leave.

"So do we," Cyberfrost said over her shoulder-joint as she walked toward the green portal.

"Bye!" Wildwing called back to us with a happy smile and farewell wave as looked over his carrier's shoulder-joint.

With Wildwing's words and last wave, the newly reunited neutral family was gone.

I looked at where they had walked through the ground bridge even when Ratchet had deactivated it. I was going to miss Wildwing, and despite what we told him about visiting Earth sometime it was unlikely.

'But not impossible,' I thought with a slight smile on my faceplate as I looked down at the incredibly detailed picture Wildwing drew for me. I sub-spaced the picture with a mental note to put it up on my shelf later.

It was just after I sub-spaced the picture that a wrench hit me in the helm. "Get your aft to the med-bay," Ratchet ordered in a harsh tone.

"Typical Ratchet," I said to Arcee. "The innocent audio receptors having even been gone a klick and he's already back to cursing." I sighed as I turned away from the ground bridge and started walking over to Ratchet as he led Bumblebee to the med-bay.

"Good luck," Arcee said to me in a tone that suggested she was smiling.

"Thanks, I am going to need that good luck." I replied and stepped out of the ops center as I followed Ratchet and Bumblebee to the med-bay.

If I had still been in the ops center, I would have seen the very confused and pondering look on Arcee's faceplate as she looked at the spot where she had last seen me.

* * *

><p><strong>(Human calendar) July 6, 2012 9:44 P.M<strong>

**(Cybertronian date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since the end of the Golden Age)**

**Decepticon War Cruiser Nemesis, geosynchronous orbit above Beijing, China**

Starscream threw the data pad he had been reading against the wall of his quarters in frustration. The data pad contained the official report of what happened in what humans called the Sahara Desert. The Decepticon stealth frigate he had summoned to Earth, the Dagger, had been utterly destroyed along with all except five of its crew, and every single one of them were in sick-bay with injuries.

The Dagger's captain had been a fool and attacked a neutral vessel while on his approach to Earth. The neutrals had won the resulting battle with help from the Autobots according to Breakdown, the only survivor from the Dagger that seemed capable of speech it seemed. But he was hard to understand, always mumbling something about a 'Pit spawned Triple-Changer' and 'Knockout's stupid fragging Energon Staff' that second one had made sense.

Knockout had been stabbed in the shoulder-joint and his internal components suffered extensive damage due to a concentrated EMP burst, the exact same EMP signature his own Energon Staff used.

'What a fool,' Starscream thought to himself. Knockout had somehow lost his own weapon to an Autobot and said Autobot had used it against him and Breakdown. Starscream found irony of Knockout's own weapon being used against him to be humorous, but finding out that the two things Breakdown kept mumbling were connected could be a problem.

The rather brute-like Decepticon said that he had fought with an Autobot Triple-Changer while the reactor on the Dagger was starting to overload. The Triple-Changer had defeated Breakdown fairly quickly despite the fact Breakdown had blown a hole in the Triple-Changer's wing with a missile, something that made Starscream flinch lightly as he imagined the pain. The Triple-Changer was about to leave when Knockout hit the Autobot with his Staff, seeming to incapacitate the Triple-Changer. But the Autobot was far from it and took Knockout's Energon Staff when he turned his backplates to the Triple-Changer, using it against Breakdown and his partner. The only reason either of the two Decepticons were even in the sick-bay was that the other survivors found them when they were evacuating the Dagger and pulled them into the escape pod with them.

Starscream had given Soundwave Breakdown's description of the Triple-Changer he had fought, but Soundwave had found no known Autobots that fit the Triple-Changer's description. That meant one of three things.

One was that Breakdown had given an inaccurate description, but that was unlikely, Starscream had worked with Breakdown before and the brute-like Decepticon was more perceptive than he let on. Another possiblity was that Soundwave had made a mistake in his search of the records, that was far more unlikely that Breakdown given an inaccurate description. In all the vorns Starscream had known Soundwave, the intelligence officer had not made a mistake... Ever. The third, and most likely, possibility was that the Autobots had onlined some sort of black operations soldier that had been in stasis on this planet. The Decepticons had left soldiers on Earth to guard energon stores, why wouldn't the Autobots do the same?

Starscream shook his helm, wondering where this Triple-Changer came from wasn't going to solve anything.

The current leader of the Decepticons picked up another data pad this one was an overview of a project Megatron had started several orbital-cycles ago dubbed, _Project:Overlord_. But Starscream had only discovered its existence this mega-cycle

'What a fool you were... Are Megatron' Starscream thought, looking in the direction he knew where Megatron's near-lifeless chassis was located.

The amount of resources Megatron had been pouring into_ Project:Overlord_ was obscene. The largest project Starscream had ever led was the space bridge, and the amount of resources he got for the construction of the bridge over the three orbital-cycles it took to build were a tiny fraction of the resources Megatron had been putting into_ Project:Overlord_ every few jours. But Starscream didn't understand why Megatron had foolishly poured so many resources into _Project:Overlord_ as he read the overview of the project, its cost was immense and its final goal was incredibly common, to a Cybertronian anyway.

"I could start my own projects with those resources," Starscream mused to himself, the numerous schemes that he could only dream of a few jours ago were now a reality since he was leader of the Decepticons.

With a twisted smile on his faceplate, Starscream typed out the order to halt all work on _Project:Overlord_ and redirect its resources to a new project,_ Project:Harbinger_ Starscream called it. The new leader of the Decepticons didn't know what _Project:Harbinger_ would be at the time, but he didn't care at the moment, he had all the former resources of _Project:Overlord_ at his digits. What more could Lord Starscream ask for?

"A cube of high-grade," Starscream answered his own theoretical question, and proceeded to comm-link Soundwave and ordered him to send some high-grade to his quarters.

After he had ordered Soundwave to send the high-grade, Starscream sat down in a chair behind his desk. "It is good to be the Lord of Decepticons," he said to himself and leaned back in his chair, only to fall straight on his backplates while cursing Megatron's name for his failure.

Starscream quickly stood back on his pedes and went over to grab another data pad, fuming at himself his own humorous accident while he waited for his high-grade to arrive.

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><p><strong>So Jetfire and Springer have joined the Autobots on Earth, Springer is a HUGE aft T.T And has Agent Simmons moments at times lol. And Wildwing is gone :'( I loved writing Wildwing's character... But I had no choice except to send him away *Sigh*Believe me when I say that no one would have liked the alternative.<br>**

**I know that at least Breakdown was already on Earth when Arcee arrived in the Prime Comic, but I wanted to have him and Knockout arrive in a different way, so *in Fate Calls anyway* they were on the Dagger before it blew up.**

**I couldn't resist making Starscream looking like an idiot at the end lol. I was going to end it at him leaning back at his desk... But it was just too perfect not to end it there hehe.**

**So my next few chapters will be based off the actual episodes, but they won't be exactly like the cartoon ;) **

**And btw. With this 15k word chapter, I have gone over the 100k word mark for the story as a whole 0.0... That is how long I wanted this story to be in the first place... In total. Man I'm I glad I didn't continue writing this story in short chapters like I was at the beginning lol.  
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**This chapter's credit song is "30 Seconds To Mars - I'll Attack" Crystal helped pick it out since I couldn't find a good credit song for this chapter. It does suit how I ended this chapter very well :)**

**So, please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.  
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	17. The Energon Harvester

**Wow, eighteen days since I last posted a chapter... I hate writer's block, and I seem to get writer's block every time I start a new chapter *Sigh* But at least I still post a couple of chapters every month, and my last four chapters have been at least 10k words, which is something I am happy about :)  
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**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.  
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**KayleeChiara - I really liked writing the battle sequences, but it was strange to write a battle that was mostly fought in the air. I am glad you enjoyed the battles :) And I was sad to see Wildwing go as well :/ He was so much fun to write. I think my story is decent at best, since I am a humble person. But I am glad you like what I've written so far and hope you like my future chapters as well ^.^**

**jayna prime - Glad you liked the chapter, and you won't have to worry about a cliff hanger for a while I think :)  
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**Sailor Shinzo - I don't know, why did you get that feeling? If your feeling was along the lines of Starscream being attracted to Shadowstreaker, then you are wrong. I said it right in the summary that there was no mech/mech related content in this story, so I don't know what could have given you that idea. But if your feeling was along the lines of Starscream finding out that Shadowstreaker can -at times- receive visions of the future and trying to capture him, then the answer would be I don't know yet. I do not plan on switching povs very often in this story, and the pov switch will usually be another Autobot other than Shadowstreaker. And the few times I will switch to the pov of a Decepticon will be very infrequent. Thanks for the review.  
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**Devil-O-Angel - Crystal Prime and I talked about the possibility of using your plot-bunny, and we found that we couldn't find a way of making it work in either of our stories, I am sorry :( Don't get me wrong, I honestly really like that plot-bunny, it would be very interesting to see how much Shadowstreaker and Shadebreaker would change the events of the film. But we can't find a way to use it and have it make sense in our stories. Thank you very much for suggesting an idea, and I hope you continue to enjoy Crystal's story as well as mine ^.^  
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**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.  
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><p><strong>October 19, 2012 4:04 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

More than three jours had passed since Jetfire and Springer had arrived and Wildwing left Earth with his creators.

Optimus and I had told Jetfire and Springer about my origins and who my creators were the same cycle they arrived. They were shocked of course, Springer more so than Jetfire, but they both accepted that what we told them was the truth.

I also told Optimus about my visit with the Thirteen. The Prime was interested to hear about the war between the Thirteen and Liege Maximo, which apparently was an event that had been forgotten over the countless vorns since it occurred. Optimus was truly shocked to hear that he was Prima's descendant, it was something he was not aware of before I told him, and he asked several questions about his ancient ancestor. He was also curious about how Shadebreaker's story was similar to my own, and how her creators sent her into a different reality to protect her in case The Fallen broke out of the reality he was trapped in. He found my entire visit with the Thirteen to be interesting now that I thought about it.

Decepticon activity was almost nonexistent since Wildwing and his creators left Earth, the only time we had encountered them in the past three jours was a small skirmish over an energon stash. The skirmish ended with the Cons blowing up the stash, they never liked to share. I had been training down in the Safe more frequently over the last three jours, it was a great way to pass time and I was always eager to lean new fighting techniques from my fellow Autobots when they occasionally joined me in the Safe for a sparring match. My eagerness to learn different fighting techniques meant that Optimus and I often would spar, which wasn't a problem since Optimus was such a great teacher. But our most recent spar was the reason for my current situation, sitting on a medical berth while Moonracer repaired a gear in my shoulder-joint Optimus had accidently broken as he was teaching me a new take down.

"You do realize this was a very avoidable injury don't you?" Moonracer asked me with an amused tone as she repaired my shoulder-joint. "Your training ended five jours ago, you don't need to train as hard as you have been."

"I know that Moonracer, but I enjoy training, and it's a great way to learn new fighting techniques." I replied, flinching slightly as Moonracer continued fixing my shoulder-joint, it was far from a painless operation.

Moonracer gave a light laugh. "You are almost as bad as Bulkhead and Springer in your eagerness to find new ways to offline your enemies." She said, as she walked over to a small table where she kept the medical tools her servos couldn't transform into. "Why is it that Ratchet and I are the only Autobots who seem to enjoy learning more about science and medicine?" The green and white femme asked, reaching down and picking up a screwdriver-like tool.

I knew Moonracer was likely just musing to herself, but I answered anyway. "I enjoy learning new things in general Moonracer, but I find learning new fighting techniques to be more enjoyable than learning how to be a medic or an engineer." I said with a small shrug as Moonracer walked back over with the screwdriver-like tool and started working on my shoulder-joint again.

Our conversation ended when Ratchet walked through the med-bay doors. Moonracer abruptly stopped repairing my shoulder-joint for several micro-klicks before she resumed her work. It was clear that she had been staring at Ratchet for a few moments before she realized what she was doing and returned to repairing my shoulder-joint.

Moonracer's reaction to Ratchet stepping into the med-bay reinforced my suspicion about how the two medics held feelings toward each other, but were oblivious that the other Bot felt the same way. I was going to have to fix that at some point.

"Hello," Ratchet greeted Moonracer and I, I had a feeling the greeting was meant for Moonracer more than it was meant for me. He walked over to storage cupboard for medical supplies and pulled a med-kit out of the cupboard.

"Bulkhead or Springer?" I asked Ratchet as he started walking out of the med-bay.

Ever since Springer and Jetfire arrived, Bulkhead and Springer had been almost inseparable. They went on ground patrol together, told Miko war stories and spent even more time down in the Safe than I did, and they often injured each other in spars that got a little too competitive. The only thing the two Wreckers didn't do together was hit on Arcee, which was something only Springer did, and the way he hit on her was often very crude. My desire to hit Springer in the faceplate was piqued every time he spoke to Arcee in such a manner. But I was letting my thoughts get a little off track, so I forced myself to stop thinking about how crude Springer was and focused my attention back on Ratchet.

"Both of them," the white and red medic said in an irritated voice, and then he left the med-bay with those words.

There was a short silence after Ratchet left the med-bay before I spoke. "So why haven't you told Ratchet how you feel about him Moonracer?" I asked Moonracer casually.

My question surprised Moonracer so much that she lost her grip on the tool she was using and dropped it on the floor.

The green and white femme reached down and picked the tool up from the floor. "I don't know what you're talking about," she quickly said, trying and failing to sound like she was confused by what I said. But she spoke too quickly for her words to be true, and the fact I heard that her cooling fans had activated gave the impression she knew exactly what I was talking about.

"We both know that isn't true," I stated factually as Moonracer began to work on my shoulder-joint again.

Moonracer worked silently for several micro-klicks before responding. "Was I that obvious?" She questioned, sounding both relieved and dismayed that she had been found out.

I shook my helm slightly. "No, you are very subtle, I am just perceptive." I said. "Now, why haven't you told Ratchet about your feelings?" I repeated my question, looking at Moonracer over the same shoulder-joint she was repairing.

"You should clean out your shoulder-joint, there is some built up grime in here that you haven't cleaned." The femme medic said, completely changing the subject.

"That is because I haven't visited the washracks this cycle," I responded simply. "Now stop avoiding the question."

Moonracer gave a small defeated sigh as she realized I wasn't going to let this go. "I do not want to ruin the friendship we've shared since before the war. I am afraid that if I tell him, he will become uncomfortable with our friendship and avoid me like the cybonic plague." Moonracer explained, sounding legitimately worried that the theoretical scenario she just described would come true.

I looked away from Moonracer as I considered what she said for several micro-klicks. "Ratchet wouldn't avoid you at all if you told him, he would likely want to send more time with you." I finally said, a small smile forming on my faceplate when Moonracer completely stopped repairing my shoulder-joint and walked in front of me with a confused expression on her faceplate.

"And why would you think that?" She asked in a curious and slightly hopeful voice.

"Because I believe that Ratchet feels the same way about you," I kept the small smile on my faceplate as I spoke.

Moonracer didn't say a single word as she stared at me appraisingly, likely trying to determine if I was being truthful. After staring at me for a few micro-klicks, Moonracer walked behind me with a thoughtful look on her faceplate and went back to repairing my shoulder-joint.

I sat in silence while Moonracer worked, not wanting to disturb the green and white femme from her thoughts.

It wasn't until Moonracer finished repairing my shoulder-joint nearly five klicks later that she finally spoke. "You will need to be careful with that shoulder-joint for the next few cycles, the gear I just repaired will break again if you push yourself too much." Moonracer said in a monotone voice, her CPU was obviously focused elsewhere.

I stood up from the medical berth and rolled my shoulder-joint a few times before looking at Moonracer. "I think you should tell him," my words caused Moonracer to look up at me. "I believe you and Ratchet share something special, Moonracer. You can't pass up a chance for happiness because you're afraid of a scenario that isn't going to happen."

Moonracer gave me an acknowledging nod, but didn't respond as she looked down at the med-bay floor, obviously pondering my words.

I turned and left the med-bay, leaving the femme medic alone with her thoughts.

'Well that piece of advice was unbelievably hypocritical of me,' I thought to myself as I walked toward the ops center.

The green and white femme didn't know it, but her reasoning for not telling Ratchet about her feelings were the exact same reasons I wasn't going to tell Arcee about my crush on her. I didn't want to ruin our friendship, especially over a stupid one-sided crush that my spark was stubbornly refusing to let me get over. The advice I just gave Moonracer may have been hypocritical of me, but at least she and Ratchet had a real chance of getting together. I could very easily picture those two being sparkmates at some point, while the chances of Arcee having a crush on me were miniscule at best.

I entered the ops center and saw Optimus in a conversation with Prowl while they both stood in front of the main screen. Looking to the left, I saw Bumblebee playing with Raf on the Xbox.

Jack and Arcee were nowhere to be seen since Jack was working at KO Burger and his shift wouldn't end for another two breems.

I knew Jetfire was out on air patrol so I wasn't surprised not to see him.

I didn't bother looking for Miko, I heard from Bulkhead that she was in detention for the third straight cycle, Miko hadn't really gotten back into the routine of school since they started school again back in August.

I was brought out of my thoughts by the sound of the proximity sensor suddenly going off, causing me to walk over to where Optimus and Prowl stood next to the workstation.

"Is it Agent Fowler, or is it General Shepherd?" I asked the two highest ranking Bots, as Bumblebee walked over from the Xbox area and stood next to me.

Prowl walked up to the workstation and tapped the button that would open the live feed from the security camera up top.

General Shepherd's midnight black Pave low was just landing on the helicopter pad as the main screen began showing the live feed from the camera.

As soon as the Pave low landed, the silhouette I recognized as General Shepherd's stepped off the helicopter and walked toward the human elevator at a slightly faster rate than he usually walked.

"Wonder what Shepherd wants," Raf mused, as he and walked along the catwalk and stood in front of the main screen.

Raf had changed quite a bit in the jours since I became a Cybertronian. He had turned thirteen just a few solar-cycles ago and now stood at five foot two, eight inches taller than he was back in February and exactly what Miko's height had been when I first met her. Raf's hair was unchanged other than how it was a little longer and a slightly darker shade of brown.

"Whatever the reason is, it must be important, he visits even less often than Fowler," I said to Raf, just as the human elevator began to move toward our level.

The elevator reached our level and General Shepherd stepped out before the doors finished opening, a clear sense of urgency was in his measured steps.

Shepherd greeted the only other human at base as he walked toward the catwalk railing. "Raf," he said simply and continued walking toward the railing.

After one of General Shepherd's rare visits to base, the general learned about Jack, Raf and Miko and how they were at our base on a regular basis. To say the general was displeased that civilians knew of the existence of the Cybertronian race would be an understatement. But surprisingly, the main reason he was displeased was not about the breach of security as Agent Fowler had been at the time of Megatron's brief return. Shepherd had not been happy with the lack of involvement the government had in protecting Jack, Raf and Miko. The general wanted to put them into the witness protection program along with their families so the Cons would have a much harder time in locating Jack, Raf and Miko if the Cons took an interest in them due to their ties with us.

Optimus and Shepherd had discussed the security of Miko, Jack and Raf and their families, they agreed on some additional security. There were now members of the S.T.F guarding Jack, Miko and Raf and their families from the shadows, they were never seen of course, but they were there. With the recent additions to security, Arcee, Bulkhead and Bumblebee now had the option of leaving the S.T.F to watch over the kids and return to base if they wished. But this option had yet to be used by Bulkhead, Arcee or Bumblebee.

We also managed to convince General Shepherd to inform Raf, Jack and Miko about the S.T.F 141, so they knew about the existence and purpose of the S.T.F. But Raf, Miko and Jack were sworn to secrecy, they couldn't even confirm they knew General Shepherd to anyone that didn't work in the S.T.F.

General Shepherd reached the catwalk railing and looked up at Optimus. "Optimus Prime," he said respectfully. "The S.T.F has a situation I fear only you and your Autobots will be able to help with." The general's voice was calm, but I caught some anxiety in his voice, it was clear whatever the situation he was referring to was a very serious one.

"We will help you General Shepherd. Now, what is this situation that requires out aid?" Optimus asked, stepping closer to where the general stood next to the catwalk railing.

General Shepherd opened one of his pouches and handed Raf his PDA. "Connect it to the main screen and open the file labeled 'Operation:Jackhammer' if you would." Shepherd instructed the human boy. Shepherd spoke to Optimus again while Raf ran over to the Xbox area to grab his laptop. "Approximately forty eight hours ago, one of our elite field operatives was gathering intelligence in a remote mountain range in Afghanistan when he was captured by Taliban forces."

The general paused as Raf ran back over with his laptop and started linking Shepherd's PDA to his laptop, which he was in turn linking to the main screen.

"Twenty two hours ago." Shepherd continued after his brief pause. "I deployed two squads from Shadow Company to rescue the operative, including the commanding officer of Shadow Company. Their mission was a total success, but they found this in the cave where the operative was being held." General Shepherd looked at Raf as he finished linking Shepherd's PDA to his laptop and the main screen changed its background to the desktop of Shepherd's PDA, albeit with several new files that weren't there the last time Shepherd visited. "Select the file Raf," Shepherd said, he looked at the main screen after he spoke to Raf.

Raf nodded and typed a command into his laptop, and the main screen changed to a satellite photo of a mountain range. The satellite photo was highlighted in several areas by red circles with hand-written notes next to the circles, it was clear this picture was used for briefing the team from Shadow Company before they were sent out to rescue the operative.

"Select the last photo in the file Raf," General Shepherd instructed, not looking away from the main screen.

Raf typed another command into his laptop and the main screen changed again, I was suddenly transfixed by the new image on the screen.

There were several S.T.F 141 soldiers wearing black ski-masks that only showed the upper part of their faces, and what looked like some kind of holographic visor over one of their eyes. Just below the shoulders of each soldier, there was a patch shaped in a circle and rimmed by gold. The image on the patch was what looked like a human skull hanging over a Scottish Claymore that seemed to have wings sprouting out from its handle, the entire image was surrounded by what appeared to be silver thorns. The words, 'Shadow Company' were written in between the gold edge of the patch and the image of the human skull and sword, it was clearly the patch of the elite members of the S.T.F. Each soldier in the photo was carrying a M-320A and was wearing similar clothing to the NEST members in the third Transformers film, black flak jackets over black ACU-type clothes. But the soldiers were not what I was transfixed by, it was the object the soldiers were standing around that grabbed my attention.

The S.T.F soldiers were all looking at a large gold sphere which was half buried in the ground of the cave Shepherd mentioned the operative was being held. The gold sphere was covered in barely perceptible grooves and markings which were clearly of Cybertronian origin. The sight of the gold sphere caused me to start having a vision at the same time Shepherd started to turn and look up at Optimus. But strangely, this vision didn't hurt like the other visions I had in the past.

_My vision started with Solus examining and cleaning what I believed were the disassembled parts of the gold sphere spread out on a workbench in front of her while her backplates faced an open doorway. The look on my carrier's faceplate was pure concentration and attention to detail as she carefully looked over each part, and she would clean a part to perfection if she found even the slightest smudge of dirt._

_Solus had just picked up a piece of the gold sphere to clean when Megatronus stepped behind her and snaked his servos around her waist, making Solus jump in surprise._

_"Ah!" My carrier exclaimed as she turned slightly to look up at Megatronus. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" She said with mock anger, playfully punching Megatronus in the chestplates before turning back to the workbench._

_"Oh my sweet, smart and beautiful courted," Megatronus said, resting his helm on Solus' helm as he spoke. "I wasn't even trying to be quiet, you were so focused on working on that Energon Harvester that you didn't even hear me say hello."_

_I was confused by how Megatronus had referred to Solus as his courted instead of his sparkmate, but then I reasoned that this event must have occurred before they were sparkmates._

_Solus stopped working on what I now knew was an Energon Harvester and got a confused look on her faceplate. "You said hello?" She asked as she looked back up at Megatronus._

_Megatronus laughed and shook his helm in amusement. "Yes, yes I did, more than once in fact. And you've been working on that Harvester for far too long my courted, I think that you should take a break and get some energon." Megatronus urged with a slightly concerned look in his optics._

_My carrier looked like she was going to protest, but she suddenly swayed on her pedes and would have fallen of Megatronus' servos hadn't already been around her waist._

_"I think that would be a good idea, the Energon Harvester will still be here after I have a cube," Solus said, trying to regain her balance to no avail, she was suffering from lack of energon._

_Megatronus picked Solus up and started carrying her bridle style. "Well then, let's go get you some energon," he said, and gave Solus a smile as he walked towards the open doorway._

_The vision ended the moment Megatronus and Solus reached the doorway._

It seemed that no time had passed since my vision began since General Shepherd was still turning toward Optimus when the vision of Solus and Megatronus faded away. I didn't have time to wonder why this was before Shepherd spoke.

"The commanding officer of Shadow Company sent this photograph through a secure channel, and, as you can see, the object my men discovered is of Cybertronian origin." The general said.

"What your men found is an Energon Harvester, it was created by Solus Prime long before the start of the war that devastated our home world." I said, causing everyone's attention to shift towards me.

"Who is Solus Prime? And what is an Energon Harvester?" General Shepherd asked me with genuine curiosity.

Optimus answered the general's questions instead. "Solus Prime is a legendary inventor and scientist among our race and the only femme, you would call her female, member of the Thirteen, the very first of our race that came into existence." He explained, leaving out the fact that I was the direct descendant of Solus. "As Shadowstreaker said, the Energon Harvester is one of Solus' inventions. It is said the Energon Harvester was created to remove energon from any source imaginable, making the Harvester a very useful tool when used to refine energon, but very dangerous if used for any other purpose. I fear the Decepticons will use the Harvester as a weapon against us should they obtain it, for not even the energon that flows through our own veins would be safe from the grasp of the Decepticons." He finished grimly.

I inwardly shook with anger when I heard what Optimus believed what the Decepticons would use the Harvester for. The Cons would turn a tool my carrier had created to make the refining of energon an easier process into what could potentially be used as a weapon of mass destruction. The thought of using the Energon Harvester in such a twisted manner made me sick.

I brought myself out my thoughts as General Shepherd responded to Optimus' words.

"Then the reason for my visit is even more important than it was a few minutes ago," Shepherd said. "Shortly after we received that photograph you see on the main screen, someone, or something, hacked into our network. It made copies of all information related to Operation:Jackhammer and it started attacking the firewalls of our main data base before we cut the hard lines and stopped its progress. We haven't been able to raise any members of the team in Afghanistan since our network was hacked, we believe the Decepticons are responsible for both the hack and disrupting communications with my men of Afghanistan." The general explained with a tone of urgency in his normally calm voice.

_"The Decepticons must have intercepted the photo of the Energon Harvester and are moving to recover it."_ Bumblebee said to me in a grim tone similar to the one Optimus used.

"Unfortunately, I believe you're correct Bee," I replied, giving the scout a brief look before looking back at General Shepherd and Optimus as the Prime spoke again.

"If the Decepticons are involved with the lack of communication from your soldiers as you fear, then we have no time to waste." Optimus said, stepping away from the catwalk and snapping his battle-mask over his faceplate.

General Shepherd correctly took this as his cue to provide us with the coordinates we needed to ground bridge in the same general area of the missing S.T.F soldiers. "Raf," Shepherd addressed the youngest of our human charges. "The coordinates for the mission's planned extraction zone are listed back in the first photo," the general said, referring to the satellite photo of the mountain range.

Raf nodded and brought the first photo up on the main screen again, and sure enough, there were two separate numbers for latitude and longitude among the hand-written notes.

Optimus looked at the screen only a moment before he looked away and started walking toward the deactivated ground bridge. "Prowl, you have ground bridge duty. Bumblebee, Shadowstreaker, you're with me." the Prime ordered.

"Understood Prime," Prowl replied with a curt nod. The stoic SIC briefly looked at the numbers on the main screen before he walked over to the ground bridge controls at the same time Bumblebee and I started walking over to Optimus.

Prowl activated the ground bridge just as Bumblebee and I reached Optimus.

"Autobots, roll out." Optimus said as he transformed into his alt mode and drove toward the green portal.

Bumblebee followed Optimus' example and changed into his alt mode and followed after Optimus.

I folded down into my MRAP form and followed after Bumblebee and Optimus. I figured that a modified F-22 Raptor would attract more unwanted attention from humans that believed I was just a plane being used by a member of the United States Air Force and try to shoot me down. They would of course fail at that task, but a situation that would be better to avoid entirely.

A few micro-klicks after I transformed into my MRAP mode, Optimus and Bumblebee disappeared through the ground bridge and I too entered the ground bridge after another micro-klick.

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><p><strong>October 20, 2012 12:56 A.M<strong>

**Somewhere in Afghanistan**

The first thing I noticed after we exited the ground bridge was how dark Afghanistan was. My visibility was less than ten meters before my optics adjusted to the low light and I could look at our surroundings.

We were on what appeared to be a rarely used dirt trail that was right even wide enough for us to drive side by side. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground around us, unsurprising since it was October and Afghanistan had a climate that changed vastly with the seasons. Very few trees were in the immediate area, and the trees that were near us were called Cedrus Deodara, a type of high altitude cedar tree native to Afghanistan that at times reached two hundred feet in height.

The weather was slightly cloudy, it wasn't cloudy enough to be called overcast, but it was enough to block out most of the dim light from the quarter moon I saw behind the clouds.

Optimus was the first one of us to speak after we traveled through the ground bridge. "Stay in vehicle form Autobots, and move downhill." He ordered Bumblebee and I. Optimus started driving down the dirt trail with Bumblebee following right behind him.

Since I was following Bumblebee and he in turn was following Optimus, I was on rear security, so I deployed a turret from the top of my MRAP form and three smaller weapons from my hood.

The weapon I deployed from the top of my MRAP form was my Plasma Chaingun, and the turret it was mounted on gave me the ability to rotate my Plasma Chaingun three hundred and sixty degrees while I was in vehicle form. But I had yet to use this ability outside the combat simulator, so I didn't know how effective I would be with my Chaingun while in vehicle form.

Two of the weapons were miniature versions of a X-12 Scrapmaker, but they both fired at a much higher rate than the full sized version, roughly eighteen hundred rounds a klick for each of them. The other weapon I deployed from my hood was a miniature Plasma Cannon, and like the X-12s the miniature Plasma Cannon fired at a faster rate than the full sized version. Compared to me, the miniature X-12s and Plasma Cannon were so small that I could only use them while I was in vehicle form. But compared to a human, the X-12s were like two tri-barreled .50 caliber machine guns, and the Plasma Cannon was like a Javelin Missile Launcher. Those were deadly weapons for humans, but I didn't know how effective my smaller weapons would be against a Cybertronian.

Optimus, Bumblebee and I were all too preoccupied with looking out for any sign of Decepticon activity to try and start a conversation, so we continued driving down the dirt trail in silence for several klicks.

The trail we were using eventually widened out and the three of us started driving side by side. After we turned around a curve in what was now the dirt road we were traveling on, we spotted a village on a small hill a few miles away, we quickly decided to head for the village. The village was most likely the place where the S.T.F field operative was held before being taken to the cave, and it was the best place for us to start searching for both the Energon Harvester and the S.T.F soldiers.

It was shortly after we saw the village that I noticed just how quiet Afghanistan had been since we arrived. The only sounds I had heard since we went through the ground bridge was the sound of our engines as we drove. There were no sounds of birds calling to each other, there were no howls of Grey Wolves carrying though the night air, and even though we were approaching a town that likely relied on farming, I didn't see a single animal of any kind, not even a dog. The silence of the surrounding area was uncanny, and it gave me the feeling that something very bad had just happened here.

"Something isn't right here," I said warily, breaking the long silence that started after Optimus told us to move downhill.

_"What isn't right?"_ Bumblebee asked.

"I don't know. It's just... Too quiet, I get the feeling that something bad just happened here." I replied, swerving slightly to avoid a large crevice in the dirt road that would have been very uncomfortable to drive through.

"Let us hope that your feeling is wrong Shadowstreaker," Optimus said as we started driving up the hill that led to the village.

The three of us crested the top of the hill a for moments after Optimus spoke and we almost immediately slowed to a stop and changed into our true forms. Unfortunately, we had just found out the reason for Afghanistan's uncanny silence.

The village had been devastated by Cybertronian weapons. The village's buildings were all damaged in some way. Some were only missing part of a wall, or their roof was torn off, while others were completely destroyed.

The dirt road we had been using led through the village, and it was littered with human bodies, or what remained of human bodies to be more accurate.

Many of the bodies covering the road were burned beyond recognition, and what remained of their skin was burned to a crisp and hung from the charred and blackened bones in a grisly manner. Some of the bodies had half-melted AK-47s or RPGs laying on the ground next to them, they had tried to fight back against the Decepticons and they were completely slaughtered.

Other bodies had been incinerated, and all that was left was a pile of ash with an AK-47 or RPG resting in the ash.

There were a few bodies that weren't burned or incinerated. But they were a more gruesome sight as they often were missing limbs, lay crushed at the bottom of a crater where a Con had stepped on them, or simply blown in half. The ground around the bodies these bodies were stained red with blood.

But no other sight affected me as much as the sight of the dead children. Many of their smaller skeletons were in similar states as the adults, burned, crushed and at times completely incinerated and turned to piles of ash. Some of the children's bodies were face down on the ground while the charred skeleton of a dog covered them in what had been a vain attempt to protect the child from being killed, the dogs had been loyal to their care-takers to the end.

"This was pointless, these humans posed no real threat to the Decepticons." I said in a somber voice that was barely above a whisper, as I looked around at the senseless slaughter of the human village. The senseless loss of life saddened me, but also greatly angered me. The only reason the Cons slaughtered this village was for their own pleasure, their sick and twisted version of fun, it enraged me.

"No Shadowstreaker, no they did not." Optimus said in a near emotionless tone. I could tell he was greatly saddened by the sight before the three of us, but he was keeping his emotions in check.

I was about to say something else, but I was interrupted by the sounds of human rifles discharging followed by the more distinctive sound of Cybertronian weapons returning fire carried through the air from no clear direction. General Shepherd's missing soldiers had just encountered the Decepticons.

_"General Shepherd's men."_ Bumblebee said, reaching the same conclusion as me.

The human weapons discharged again, and this time I could tell the gunfire was originating somewhere behind another hill about a mile to the left of us.

"Move out Autobots, General Shepherd's men will need all the help they can get to fight the Decepticons." Optimus said. He transformed into his alt mode and started driving in the direction of the gunfire.

I quickly changed into my MRAP form and followed Optimus as Bumblebee also transformed and followed Optimus.

It was less than a klick before we reached the second hill drove over the top of it and started driving down the opposite side. The sight that greeted us when we started driving down the opposite side of the hill caused me to redeploy the weapons I could use while I was in vehicle form.

Four normal-sized Decepticons that were being led by a particularly large Brute had their backplates turned to us as they surrounded the entrance to a cave at the bottom of the hill. The reason they had their backplates turned to us was simple, the S.T.F soldiers were inside.

There were at least a half dozen muzzle flashes from the human weapons as the missing S.T.F soldiers fired at the Decepticons almost constantly. Every so often, one of the micro missiles that General Shepherd had spoken of at his visit to our base would shot out of the cave and hit a Decepticon. The missile wouldn't do any noticeable damage, but the Decepticon who got hit by the missile would be forced a couple steps backward from the force of the explosion. Unfortunately, many of the missiles the S.T.F soldiers launched were blocked by the unusually large Brute.

The Brute leading the four other Cons towered over the other Brutes I had fought with, I estimated his height to be no less than sixty five feet, well over even Optimus' height.

From what I could tell, each of the Cons the Brute was leading was using a different weapon. One Decepticon was using a Neutron Assault Rifle, another Con was using a Scrapmaker, one was using a Scatter-Blaster and the last one was using a Plasma Cannon.

As my fellow Autobots and I drove down the hill, I started charging up the mini Plasma Cannon on my hood. Within two micro-klicks the mini Plasma Cannon was fully charged and I fired at the Con carrying the Scrapmaker.

The shot hit the Decepticon squarely in the backplates, causing him to nearly loose his balance and stagger forward a step. But the shot caused little damage, my mini Plasma Cannon lacked power of the full sized version.

I fired a burst from my Plasma Chaingun and mini X-12s as the Decepticons started turning around to shift their attention to us instead of the S.T.F soldiers.

My mini X-12s were more effective than my Plasma Cannon, the Decepticon was in noticeable pain when his frame was struck by several dozen of the miniscule rounds of energy. But he was not in pain for long since he was hit multiple times in the chestplates by my Plasma Chaingun the moment he turned around. The bullet-shaped rounds of plasma melted the Decepticon's chestplate armor and made their way straight through the Con's spark, the Con was offlined instantly.

Bumblebee changed into his true form and threw himself at two of the remaining three Decepticons the Brute was leading. He managed to land a quick flurry of punches on one of the Cons that sent his opponent to the ground before he got in a more prolonged fight with the second Decepticon.

Optimus transformed into his true form as well and deployed his swords as he ran towards the Brute. The Prime expertly dodged the Brute's hammer and rammed his shoulder-joint into the Brute's chestplates, knocking the much larger Cybertronian back several steps.

I didn't get a chance to see what happened next in that fight as a charged Plasma Cannon shot hit the ground in front of me, which forced me to change into my true form and run toward the Decepticon that shot at me.

The Decepticon started to charge up his Plasma Cannon again as I ran toward him, but the problem with the Plasma Cannon is its slow rate of fire. Since he just started charging the Plasma Cannon, he wouldn't be able to fire it again for several micro-klicks, far more time than it would take for me to reach him.

I deployed one of my swords when I reached the Con and stabbed him through the chestplates, offlining him in a quick and relatively painless manner, which was something none of these Decepticons deserved. My talk with Optimus after our mission in Antarctica held a lot more meaning for me now.

_"I know Bulkhead said that... Does it really get any easier?" I had asked as I looked at Optimus._

_"We are Autobots, we only take life when we have no other choice." Optimus had replied, it sounded like he was quoting a recruiter's brochure at the time. The Prime had sighed when I continued looking at him for an answer. "When you have seen the horrors of what the Decepticons do to completely harmless bots..." He had paused for a moment. "You stop feeling guilt when offlining a Decepticon."_

I shook my helm to clear my CPU of my past conversation with Optimus. I hadn't known what the horrors Optimus had been speaking of at the time, but now I had seen a glimpse of the horrors the Decepticons had committed. This group of Cons had killed men, women and children for no other reason other than their own pleasure, it made me feel nothing but contempt for the offline Decepticon now resting at my pedes.

I noticed that there were no sounds of battle, Optimus and Bumblebee had finished off their opponents. Looking up from the Decepticon's offline chassis, I saw Optimus was standing in front of the cave and speaking with two humans, but I didn't see Bumblebee anywhere. Deciding that speaking with Optimus was the best way to find out where Bumblebee was, I started walking over to the Prime as he spoke with the two humans. As I got closer, I saw that neither of the humans were wearing the black ski-masks the S.T.F soldiers were wearing in the photo of the Energon Harvester so I could clearly see their faces, and I was slightly surprised when I recognized both of them.

One of the two S.T.F soldiers Optimus was speaking with was slightly taller than the other soldier, I estimated his height to be about six feet four inches. The soldier had a thin beard on his face and his black hair was styled in a short mohawk about three inches tall, an unusual hair style for a soldier. The eyes of the soldier were grey-blue in color and had the hardened look of a seasoned warrior, the scar running over his left eye added on to the look in his eyes. Despite the hardened look in his eyes, I could tell he had a sense of humor when he was off the battle field. Along with the S.T.F patch I had seen the soldiers in the photo wearing, there were black and white British flags stitched on to his combat uniform just below either of the patches. I knew who exactly who he was, his name was John 'Soap' MacTavish. He was the main character of the same video game General Shepherd was the villain in my original reality, Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, and since he was standing to the right and slightly behind the other soldier, my guess was he was the SIC of Shadow Company.

The other soldier talking with Optimus, the one I believed was the commanding officer of Shadow Company, was the same height as General Shepherd, about six feet three inches tall. This soldier was clean shaven unlike Soap, and his short brown hair wasn't styled in any way. His eyes were the same color as his hair and held an intelligent look within them. Just like with Soap, he had both the S.T.F patch and a flag stitched on his combat uniform, but he had a black and white United States flag stitched just below the patches instead of a British flag. He was even more recognizable than Soap, I was looking at Will Lennox, the field commander of NEST in the Transformers movies and apparently the commanding officer of Shadow Company in this reality.

Optimus turned to me as I approached and looked back at Lennox and MacTavish. "Colonel Lennox, Captain MacTavish, this is our heavy weapons specialist Shadowstreaker." The Prime said, introducing me to the two humans as I walked toward them.

I finished walking over before I responded. "It is a pleasure," I said politely, inclining my helm in a respectful manner. I gave my best to show no indication that I had seen them before, the middle of Afghanistan probably wasn't the best place to tell them of my origins.

"The pleasure is all ours. We wouldn't have lasted very long against those Decepticons." Lennox said gratefully.

"Then it is good that we arrived when we did." I said to Lennox before I turned to Optimus. "Where is Bumblebee? Last I saw he was fighting those two Cons over there." I said, pointing a digit over my shoulder-joint at the two offlined Cons Bee had been fighting.

MacTavish spoke up. "Who? The yellow one?" He asked in his Scottish accent. He continued at my nod. "Ah, well he went with one of our men to recover your... What did you call it Optimus?" MacTavish asked the Prime, clearly referring to the Energon Harvester.

"It is called the Energon Harvester, Captain MacTavish." Optimus replied.

"Yes, your friend went to recover your Energon Harvester. He should be back soon, it isn't that far back in the cave." MacTavish said, turning toward the mouth of the cave as if he expected the yellow and black scout to appear as soon as he spoke.

Surprisingly, Bumblebee did appear from the mouth of the cave with the Energon Harvester is his servos, and he was being followed by more than a dozen human soldiers.

A few of the soldiers had their heads or arms wrapped up in bloody bandages. But one of the soldiers was in such bad shape that four other soldiers were carrying him in a makeshift stretcher, the cuts, bruses and burns on his body were too small and precise for his injuries to be from Decepticon weapons. I concluded that the man on the stretcher was the field operative that Lennox and Shadow Company were sent out to rescue, and the operative had been tortured before he had been rescued. Along the soldiers carrying the stretcher was yet another familiar face.

The familiar soldier was shorter than Lennox or MacTavish, I guessed he was around five feet ten inches tall, but he had a much larger build than either of them. The soldier was bald, but if he had lost his hair earlier in life than most humans or if he was simply shaving his head I did not know. His dark brown skin was the same tone as his eyes, and his eyes held the look of professional soldier and a practical joker. Robert Epps was helping to carry the stretcher, one of my personal favorite human characters from the Transformers movies.

"We got everyone?" Lennox asked as he walked up next to Epps, while Bumblebee walked to Optimus and carefully handed the Prime the Energon Harvester, clearly in awe of the ancient device.

"Yeah, everyone still among the living." Epps said grimly, reaching into a pocket with his free hand and pulling out four dog tags, which he gave to his commanding officer.

Lennox looked down at the dog tags sadly. "Damn it, four K.I.A on a mission that was supposed to be a cake walk." He said with a sigh, obviously blaming himself for the deaths of his soldiers.

"It could have been a lot worse Will." MacTavish said, walking over and standing next to Lennox. "There was very little we could have done against the Decepticons, and you did all you could."

Lennox sighed again. "I know... But that isn't something that is going to matter to the families of four good men." The colonel said, opening a pocket on his flak jacket and putting the dog tags inside. Lennox turned and looked up at Optimus. "Can you help us make contact with our HQ? The Decepticons somehow fried our communications equipment and we need to call for extraction."

"We can provide you with extraction to our base colonel, your General Shepherd is already there." Optimus replied, opening a communications channel to base without another word to the humans._ "Optimus to base, we have found both the Energon Harvester and General Shepherd's missing soldiers. We are requesting a ground bridge."_ The Prime said through the channel, he didn't wait for a response before he closed the channel.

A few micro-klicks after Optimus spoke, a ground bridge opened up about twenty meters in front of us. The Shadow Company soldiers to jumped in surprise at the sudden appearance of the green portal, a few soldiers even aimed their M-320As at the ground bridge like they were expecting an enemy to jump out and attack them. But they lowered their weapons after they realized that no enemies were attacking.

"What the bloody hell is that?" MacTavish asked, not really asking anyone in particular.

I answered his question anyway. "That is a ground bridge captain. It allows us to instantly travel anywhere on Earth." I said, as I walked over and stood next to Soap.

"Well that's useful isn't it?" MacTavish said, looking up at the green portal with a look of awe on his face.

Lennox walked over and stood next to MacTavish. "That it is Soap, that it is." He said to MacTavish before addressing all his men. "Alright, move out! We're getting out of this hell hole!" Lennox yelled, walking towards the ground bridge while gesturing for his men to follow him.

The Shadow Company soldiers started walking toward the ground bridge at the same time Lennox stepped reached the bridge and stepped through it without any hesitation. The rest of the Shadow Company soldiers stepped through the ground bridge a few micro-klicks after Lennox.

"Autobots, return to base. Ratchet and Moonracer will want to examine the Energon Harvester before we use it." Optimus said, looking at the Harvester in his servos while he walked towards the ground bridge.

Bumblebee quickly followed Optimus and both of them soon disappeared into the green portal.

I didn't move to follow my fellow Autobots. Instead, I cast a sad look in the direction I knew the destroyed village was, and then toward the cave where the Shadow Company soldiers found the Energon Harvester, and also where I knew the bodies of four dead soldiers rested.

'Rest in peace victims of the Decepticons,' I thought with a sigh. With one last look in the direction of the village, I stepped forward and entered the ground bridge.

* * *

><p><strong>October 20, 2012 12:11 A.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

It had been seven breems since we returned to base with the Shadow Company soldiers.

General Shepherd and his men left our base on the general's Pave Low only about five klicks after we returned since the field operative being carried on the stretcher was starting to go into shock, and we lacked the medical supplies to treat him. But Shepherd had offered his sincere thanks for rescuing his men before he left, and promised to find a way to properly repay us somehow.

Ratchet and Moonracer examined the Energon Harvester and found the Energon Harvester to be in perfect working order. But since we still had a six jour supply of energon in our storage rooms, we had no reason to use the Harvester until we were low on energon, so the Harvester was currently sitting on my shelf next to the picture Wildwing drew for me.

I spent what was left of the cycle down in the Safe after General Shepherd and the Shadow Company soldiers left. I sparred with Bulkhead and Optimus a few times, and I finally learned the take down Optimus had been teaching me earlier in the cycle. I even managed to last for one klick and thirteen micro-klicks against Optimus in a spar. That might not sound like a long time, but since Optimus is a Prime and a far better warrior than anyone else I had seen, one klick and thirteen micro-klicks was actually a sixty percent improvement over my previous best.

Arcee had come down to the Safe after Jack's shift was over. She and I had gotten in some target practice, and also sparred twice with each of us winning one spar. But she had only been down in the safe for a breem before she had to leave and take Jack home.

After my secret crush had left for the Darby household until the next cycle, I trained in the combat simulator and get target practice at the shooting range until I returned to my quarters for a cube of energon and some recharge, which was exactly where I was at the moment.

I took a sip from my cube as I sat at my desk and thought about the cycle's grim events.

No matter how much I trained down in the Safe, I couldn't get the gruesome sight of the dead humans off my CPU. Even though many of the humans were likely involved in the capture of the S.T.F field operative, I could not help but feel sorrow for the humans that were slaughtered.

I also felt sorrow for the Shadow Company soldiers that died while fighting the same Decepticons that slaughtered the village. The only reason they were died was because they found the Energon Harvester in the cave, if they hadn't discovered the Harvester then they would still be alive, and their families wouldn't be grieving for them. The Shadow Company soldiers had been the very best of the human military, the elite operators of the S.T.F, and they had been killed without inflicting a causality among the Decepticons. It made me think of how easily I could be offlined in battle.

A sniper rifle shot to my helm would offline me before my CPU even registered I had been shot, a missile would have a similar affect. A weapon using cosmic rust had a very high chance of offlining me if I was hit in the tank, chestplates or helm. Almost any kind of weapon hitting my spark would offline me as well. The reality was I that could fighting in a simple skirmish and a be offlined by Decepticon who got a lucky shot, and I would permanently join my carrier and sire in the Pocket Universe.

'And you would have never told Arcee how you feel about her,' the thought echoed through my CPU as I took another sip of energon. That thought left me wondering. Should I tell Arcee about how I have crush on her? Was the chance that Arcee had a crush on me really just miniscule? Was there a greater chance of her having a crush on me? Is the chance of finding out Arcee has a crush on me worth ruining our friendship? Would it really ruin our friendship?

I shook my helm to clear my CPU of my thoughts. 'The answers to my own questions are no, yes, no, no and no,' I thought to myself, as I swallowed the rest of my cube in one gulp and set the cube on my desk.

Telling Arcee about my crush on her would be an incredibly stupid move on my part, and it would ruin our friendship, there was no doubt about that in my CPU. Besides, Arcee is a femme with a very intelligent CPU, a very caring and funny personality once you got to know her, could shot a Con between the optics at five thousand meters and had drop dead gorgeous looks to top it off. I knew I didn't have a chance of ever having a chance of being with her, I just needed to convince my spark that so I could finally get over my stupid crush.

I stood up from my desk and walked over to my berth. I laid down on the berth and soon was deep in recharge.

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><p><strong>I hated writing the part of the destroyed village, I can picture things very well, so I could clearly see everything I described... It is not a pleasant sight :  
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**I have been planning on having Lennox, MacTavish and Epps in this story for a while now, I am glad I finally get the chance to have them in it :) And I am sorry if their appearance in this chapter was brief, but I don't think this will be the last time you see them ;)  
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**And I am sorry for the time warp at the end, but my muse refused to like anything I wrote for the ending of the chapter except for a time warp, so I am sorry about that.  
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**This chapter's credit song is "Two Steps From Hell - Lux Aeterna" Surprisingly, this song suits both the part where the Bots are looking at the destroyed village, and the ending. Strange considering one is sad and slightly gruesome, and the other is Shadowstreaker going to sleep... Weird isn't it?  
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**So, please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.  
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	18. Poker and Sad Memories

**Wow, three weeks since I last updated *Sigh* I am getting slower and slower in my updates... I hate that. And, I only started writing this version of this chapter on May 10th... I had been working on a different version since April 30th to May 10th that was faintly based on 'Speed Metal' but I couldn't get it to work. The entire time I was working on that version of this chapter I wrote a grand total of -get ready- 305 words... Yeah... I scrapped that version. But at least my updates consistently long, this is my fifth straight chapter that is over 10,000 words, and my sixth straight that is over 8,000, so I have that going for me.  
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**Anyway, what I has happened with me since my last update? Well I got numerous plot-bunnies for stories I am never even going to write, like a Fallout plot-bunny, two different Mass Effect plot-bunnies and a Halo plot-bunny... My muse likes to give me ideas for stories that will never be written lol. Oh! And I turned seventeen since my last update and I ordered Mass Effect 3 recently :) I don't know if I will be able to get another update in this month solely because of Mass Effect 3 lol.  
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**One last thing, I have started to go back and fix grammar in my first ten chapters, I've only fixed two so far, but it's a start. And I noticed that this whole time... Shadowstreaker hadn't mentioned to the Autobots who killed Cliffjumper... So I fixed that in the chapter he first meets them.  
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**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.  
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**semperfi97 - I am glad you liked how I portrayed our troops, I get very mad when the people that keep us free are disrespected. And yeah, our weapons for our _infantry_ don't do much against a Con... But we have yet to see a S.T.F tank, aircraft or ship in action... Maybe they will do a little more against a Decepticon.  
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**jayna prime - *Watches you slam head against desk* Now why did you do that? *Ponders* Anyway, I was thinking that Shadow' is very stubborn and I haven't lost my mind hehe. And I am glad you liked the chapter. :) I didn't like the village scene or how the soldiers were killed. :/ My muse can be blamed for that one. *Face-palms* Man, you are inpatient, aren't you? Lol.  
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**Devil-O-Angel - I know what you mean by the plot-bunny farm *Looks at warehouse full of unwritten plot-bunnies* I get plot-bunnies all the time lol.  
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**Sailor Shinzo - It was the way you phrased it, to quote "Why did I get the feeling that Starscream has become very interested in Shadowstreaker, if you know what I mean?" Almost ever time I have personally heard someone use the phrase "If you know what I mean?" It was used in a suggestive way, you can blame Whose Line Is It Anyway for that haha. But I glad you weren't thinking that way and I am sorry for misreading what you meant, it was just confusing on my part.  
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**Fox Of Magic - I am glad you like it, and I didn't exactly update it soon... I need to work on that lol. But at least you can read it now. :)  
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**Sky'sLimit5 - Yes, yes he will tell her... It will just take him a while lol.  
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**KayleeChiara - Yeah, I figured after five chapters of not having anything related to the episodes it was time to move on lol. And he tell her eventually, he is very stubborn you must remember. :)  
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**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.  
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* * *

><p><strong>November 2, 2012 3:32 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

Two mega-cycles had passed since we recovered the Energon Harvester from Afghanistan.

The Decepticons had been idle since Afghanistan, which wasn't very surprising considering how the Decepticons often fell into long periods of inactivity before suddenly reappearing. And since the Decepticons were in one of these periods of inactivity, there had been very few noteworthy events in the last two mega-cycles, only two noteworthy events in fact.

The first noteworthy event was how Jack and Miko had their birthdays back on the twenty fifth of October, which made Jack seventeen and Miko sixteen. It wasn't rare for humans to share the same birthday, in fact, I read an article when I was still a human about how for every day in a human year, there were over nineteen million human birthdays. But even though there were a lot of humans that shared the same birthday, it was still uncommon for humans to meet someone who shared their own birthday.

The second event -and definitely more important- was how General Shepherd was thanking us for saving his soldiers in Afghanistan by having the S.T.F upgrade our computer systems while also refitting or expanding our base.

The reason for upgrading our computer systems was simple, the base technology was severely outdated even by human standards. And there was only so much Moonracer and Ratchet could get out of a motherboard from a nineteen seventies human computer, no matter how much they modified it. But the new computers the S.T.F were installing had almost a one thousand times the processing power and had literally several hundred thousand times the data storage capacity. That was obviously a massive improvement over our old computers, and our new computers would be even more powerful after Ratchet and Moonracer modified them.

The med-bay and all our storage hangers were being expanded by the S.T.F. The med-bay was undergoing the process of being tripled in size and having the medical equipment upgraded in a similar manner as the computers in the ops center, and the storage capacity of our hangers was also being tripled. Our armory was in the process of being moved down to the Safe.

I think we should have moved the armory down to the safe a long time ago, it was a pain to go up to the ground floor, chose a weapon you wanted to use down at the shooting range, and then ride the elevator down to the Safe. It was annoying to go through all that just to fire a weapon you don't normally use, but just want to get some practice with.

With the armory being moved down to the Safe, Prowl requested Optimus' permission to turn the armory's former area into a brig. Why Prowl wanted to build a brig I have no idea, but I suspected the reason was mostly so he could put Springer in there when he got annoying, which was basically all the time. It was that or Prowl wanted to have a place to detain any prisoners we capture, which is a very unlikely event, but it was still a possibility that was worth preparing for.

Along with the expansion of the med-bay and storage hangers, the refit of our base gave us the opportunity to construct new personal quarters for anymore new arrivals that we may receive, and also a rec room for relaxing. The S.T.F were also building a separate washrack for the use of Arcee, Moonracer or any other femme that may arrive, which was something that I am certain Arcee was happy about, especially since there now was no chance of me seeing her in the washrack again. The S.T.F also were installing some hidden turrets on top of our base for security.

I had been surprised when I saw the turrets the S.T.F were installing up on top of our base. The turrets being installed used a highly experimental weapons technology -at least for humans- called a Helical Railgun. Unlike a normal railgun, a helical railgun is the hybrid cross of a railgun and a coilgun, the result is a weapons system that is more powerful than both a raligun and a coilgun combined. But like a normal railgun, the helical railgun's main issue is the extreme heat generated by its firing sequence. According to a S.T.F engineer I asked, because of its incredible tensile strength and resistance to heat, Adamantium was the only reason the S.T.F could produce helical railguns in a practical form, otherwise the production of helical railguns would be impossible for at least another three decades.

The S.T.F were installing four of these helical railguns on the top of our base, one to cover each side of the base. Each helical railgun was capable of a one hundred and twenty eight megajoule shot once every ten micro-klicks. That was enough energy to fire a fifteen kilogram Tungsten-Ferrous slug at approximately eight thousand meters per micro-klick, and impact a target with the same destructive force as a pair of Tomahawk Missiles. But against Decepticons, the helical railguns would only be able be useful for taking down seekers or other small and unshielded targets, and the helicals would be useless against any kind of shielded vessel. I had a few ideas for some modifications that could potentially fix this problem, I had already asked Optimus for his approval for modifying the turrets, and after I explained what I was going to do to the turrets, he gave his approval. I just needed to take the time and effort to try and modify the turrets.

All in all, the expansion and refit of our base was going to cost the S.T.F one point four billion dollars. Normally that would be about a quarter of the annual budget for an average military unit that was twice the size of the S.T.F 141, but the S.T.F was anything but average. The annual budget for the multi-national task force was ninety three billion dollars, and that was just the money provided by the U.S government. When you added up the funding from the United Kingdom, Russia and Israel -the only other countries that currently had soldiers and engineers in the S.T.F- the actual budget of the S.T.F was one hundred and twenty nine billion dollars. So the S.T.F still had over one hundred and twenty seven billion dollars to spend on their normal operations, whatever those operations may be.

Currently, I was sitting in the newly constructed rec room with Arcee, Bulkhead and Jetfire as we played Texas Hold 'Em with Lennox, Epps and MacTavish while in our holoforms.

"Oh this is bloody ridiculous!" MacTavish exclaimed after he lost the third straight hand he stayed in until the very end, this particular hand he had lost to Jetfire.

Jetfire's holoform had the same blue eyes as his true form's optics, and was of average height, about the same height as Epps' five feet ten inches. The hair of his holoform was cut short and snow white in color, appropriate considering I found out that Jetfire was the oldest Autobot on Earth by over ten thousand centi-vorns. It was no wonder he called everyone else at base youngling, it was because everyone else literally was a youngling compared to him.

"It is not ridiculous, you just haven't won the last three hands you've stayed in." I said dryly, giving MacTavish an amused smile while Jetfire collected the poker chips he just won.

"You Autobots must be cheating, it's the only possible explanation for why I'm losing." The Scotsman said, shaking his head in a frustrated manner as he started shuffling the cards since it was his turn to deal.

"Have you ever considered the possibility that your poker face sucks?" Lennox asked Soap, taking a sip from a beer bottle in front of him, one of six bottles the Shadow Company soldiers had brought with them.

"My poker face doesn't suck." Soap protested as he finished shuffling the cards and started dealing them out.

Epps tossed in his ante as well as the small blind since he was sitting to MacTavish's left. "I have to side with the colonel on this one Soap, I could probably read your poker face from across the room." He said, laughing at the sour look MacTavish gave him.

Soap continued looking at Epps for a moment, and then to Lennox, then back to Epps. "You're both arses!" He finally said after he finished dealing and waved a hand dismissively, causing the rest of us to laugh at his antics.

I stopped laughing after a few micro-klicks and looked at my cards, I had been dealt an eight of hearts as well as a four of hearts.

'A good start for either a straight or a flush,' I thought to myself as I tossed the big blind into the middle of the table since it was my turn to pay it.

Bulkhead -who was sitting to my left- looked at his cards before calling the big blind.

Bulkhead's holoform was completely bald, but a large black beard covered his holoform's face. Standing at about six feet tall and with shoulders that were as broad as a human get could without looking like a cartoon character, Bulkhead's holoform looked like a very mean and intimidating bouncer. But the look in the blue eyes of his holoform gave away his kind and fun-loving nature.

Jetfire threw his cards into the middle of the table. "Not even worth seeing the flop." He said, as he leaned back in the chair his holoform was sitting in and then looked at Arcee, since it was now her turn to bet.

Arcee's holoform was an attractive women about five feet ten inches in height with long light brown hair that would have gone well past her shoulders if it wasn't tied into a ponytail. Like the holoforms of Jetfire and Bulkhead, the eyes of her holoform were blue. But her eyes were a deeper shade of blue than theirs were, almost as deep a blue as the cobalt optics of both my true form as well as my holoform's eyes. Overall, Arcee's holoform was a real head-turner among the humans at base, judging by the looks from the occasional S.T.F engineer gave her holoform that walked by on his way to another part of the base.

"I'll raise," Arcee said, and then threw in an extra twenty five dollar chip after she called the big blind.

Lennox was next in line to bet and he quickly folded, but both Soap and Epps called Arcee's bet, which made it my turn to bet once again.

I looked at Arcee for a moment. It was unusual for her to bet at all right out of the gate, she usually waited until at least the flop to bet any chips. She likely had been dealt some decent cards.

I decided that Arcee's bet was worth paying to see the flop. "I call," I said, and tossed a twenty five dollar chip into the middle of the table.

It was Bulkhead's turn to bet again and he shrugged. "Ah, why not?" He asked rhetorically as he threw in a twenty five dollar chip to call Arcee's bet.

After Bulkhead called the bet, MacTavish dealt the flop by first tabling one card facedown, and then dealing the next three cards faceup. The flop was a six of hearts, a queen of diamonds and a five of hearts.

'One more heart and I have a flush, or if there's a seven I have a straight,' I thought to myself, keeping all emotion from my holoform's face so I didn't give an indication of what my cards were.

I looked at Arcee to gauge her reaction to the flop, but her poker face was very good, she didn't give any hint as to what her cards could be. But it was a different story with everyone else at the table, they were looking at the flop in disappointment. It was clear the flop hadn't done anything to help their cards.

Since we all called Arcee's bet before the flop, it was still her turn to bet. After Arcee looked at the flop for a few moments, she tossed two hundred dollar chips and a fifty dollar chip into the middle of the table.

Soap widened his eyes at Arcee's two hundred and fifty dollar bet, which was one of the larger bets so far in the game. "Two fifty? Lass, you're insane if you thinks any of us are going to call that." He said to Arcee, quickly throwing his cards into the middle of the table.

"I'm with you on that captain, I'm out." Epps said with shake of his head, also throwing his cards into the middle of the table to join MacTavish in folding.

I looked cross the table to Arcee again, two hundred and fifty was quite the leap from twenty five, especially for Arcee considering how she usually bet. Either she was bluffing, which she was very good at, or a card from the flop helped her own cards significantly. I had a feeling that she wasn't bluffing, but decided to take a risk anyway.

"Call," I said simply, causing everyone to look at me in shock as I called Arcee's bet by throwing the respective chips into the growing pile in the middle of the table.

"I guess I'm not insane," Arcee quiped towards MacTavish, causing Epps to laugh as MacTavish sighed and mumbled something under his breath.

Bulkhead shook the head of his holoform once Epps' laughter died down. "Too rich for me," Bulkhead said, throwing his cards in the middle of the table along with the cards of the others, leaving our current hand as a showdown between Arcee and I.

After Bulkhead folded, MacTavish tabled another card and dealt the turn card, a queen of spades.

I looked at Arcee and saw something flash in the eyes of her holoform that looked like excitement, the look in her eyes was gone before I could properly identify it. But her reaction was still enough for me to deduce that at least one of her cards was a queen, possibly both of her cards. Not a good thing for me unless the river was a heart.

Arcee checked instead of betting any chips, she obviously was trying to make me think the turn hadn't helped her own cards.

I checked as well, but I knew that the river had to be a heart or I was guaranteed to lose this hand.

MacTavish tabled one last card and dealt the river card after I checked, the river was a seven of hearts, which gave me a straight flush.

'Well, that isn't a hand I thought I would ever get in an actual game,' I thought, keeping the surprise I felt off my holoform's face.

Looking up at Arcee, I saw a pleased look in her holoform's eyes, she must think I don't have anything to beat her queens.

"All in." Arcee said, tone flat and serious as she pushed all her chips into the middle of the table, which was more for affect than anything else since she had more chips than me.

I saw that everyone else at the table was now looking at me curiously, waiting for my response to Arcee going all in. But I didn't pay them any attention, I just stared straight into the eyes of Arcee's holoform, and she stared right back.

The look Arcee was giving me was guarded and calculating, the look she gave an enemy when she was figuring out the most efficient way to offline them.

After Arcee and I continued staring each other down for a full klick, while everyone else looked back and forth between us, I finally broke the silence that followed Arcee going all in. "That is quite the gamble on your part." I said, not breaking eye contact with Arcee as I spoke.

Everyone else at the table simultaneously turned toward Arcee to see her response. "Indeed," Arcee replied simply, also not breaking our staring contest as she spoke.

I had to fight off the smile working its way onto my holoform's face as everyone turned toward me, it was comical how they all moved simultaneously.

"You must be very confident that your cards can't be beaten." I said after another moment of silence.

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Hmm"

"Hmm"

Everyone else at the table looked back and forth between Arcee and I whenever one of us spoke. And with how frequent Arcee and I were responding to each other, it looked like they were watching a tennis match.

There was another long silence, I was aware that everyone else was still looking back and forth between Arcee and I as they waited for one of us to speak or break eye contact.

I once again was the one to break the silence. "You have four queens don't you?" I asked Arcee, completely guessing on the number of queens she had.

A ghost of a smile formed on the face of Arcee's holoform before it disappeared. "Maybe I do and maybe I don't." She said.

"Judging by how you smiled slightly, you do have four queens. And here I was just guessing at the total." I said with a smile of my own.

Arcee gave a short laugh. "Well then congratulations, you successfully guessed how badly you just lost." She said smugly, flipping both her cards over to reveal both the queen of clubs and the queen of hearts.

When Arcee started to lean forward so she could collect the poker chips, I stopped her by raising one of my holoform's hands. "I have yet to call or fold, so the hand isn't over yet." I said, then proceeded to push all my chips towards the middle of the table. "Now it's over." I leaned back in my chair and watched in amusement as Arcee got a very confused look on her holoform's face and looked down at the cards on the table.

After a micro-klick, realization crossed the face of Arcee's holoform and she slowly looked up at me. "You don't..." She said, leaving her sentence hanging as she gave me a frustrated but amused look.

"I do." I finished Arcee's sentence and flipped over my cards to reveal the eight of hearts and the four of hearts.

Soap laughed at the dumbfounded look on Arcee's face as she stared at my cards.

After MacTavish's laughter had died down, Epps gave Arcee a dry look. "What are the odds of you having four queens and still losing?" He teased, causing MacTavish to howl with laughter again.

The look Arcee gave MacTavish and Epps instantly made them stop laughing and sober themselves. "Need I remind you that I know a half dozen different ways to eviscerate you with this poker chip?" Arcee asked the two Shadow Company soldiers while she held up one of the poker chips that she hadn't lost to me. "Or the fact that I could crush you into a pulp by stepping on you in my true form? Or simply turn you into dust with one of my weapons?" Arcee's voice was sweet and kind despite the fact she was almost threatening the two S.T.F soldiers.

"No ma'am." Epps and Soap said at the same time. The synchronized response from the two soldiers made them sound like children who just been caught stealing from the cookie jar by their mother, which was appropriate since Arcee did sound like a human mother speaking to her children.

"Good. Now, I assume I don't have to tell you to stop trying to make fun of me?" Arcee asked Soap and Epps calmly.

I stiffened slightly at the tone Arcee used, it reminded me of the tone she used when I accidentally saw her in the washrack, not an incident I liked to recall.

'Even if the view was-' I mentally Gibbs slapped my CPU to stop it from forming any thoughts related to seeing Arcee in the washrack while Epps and MacTavish replied to Arcee's words.

"No ma'am." The two Shadow Company soldiers repeated their previous response, and were again completely synchronized with each other.

"Good," was Arcee's short reply to the words of Epps and MacTavish. After she spoke, she looked away from the S.T.F soldiers and casually stacked what remained of her poker chips into four small towers.

For a few micro-klicks, no one said anything, we were all in different stages of shock and slight fear of how intimidating Arcee could be when she wanted to be.

Only when Epps slowly started collecting all the cards on the table so he could shuffle them did we return to talking and joking as we had been before Arcee calmly scolded MacTavish and Epps.

After I had collected the poker chips I won from the previous hand, Epps started dealing out the cards and we all prepared for the next hand.

* * *

><p>We played poker for another breem before Lennox, MacTavish and Epps had to return to their own base and Bulkhead had to go pick Miko up from detention, it seems like that girl never learns her lesson when it comes to behaving in school.<p>

After Bulkhead and the Shadow Company soldiers left base, Arcee, Jetfire and I went to the ops center. At the moment, we were watching Jack and Raf play Forza 4 with Bumblebee, unfortunately, Springer was watching their race with us. The other Bots at base besides the four of us were Ratchet and Moonracer, and they were getting accustomed to the new computers.

"You tricked me!" Jack said to Raf, while the younger human overtook him in their race.

Just like Raf, Jack had changed since I first met him in February. The now seventeen year old Jack now stood at six feet two inches, while he was only two inches taller than he was when I first met him, he was slightly broader and more muscular.

"I didn't trick you... I just didn't tell you that car sucks in the corners." Raf said smugly.

I was about to make a comment when an alarm sounded from the new workstation.

The installation of our new computers came with a few minor upgrades to the workstation, increasing its size to allow both Ratchet and Moonracer to work side-by-side chief among them.

Moonracer typed a command into her part of the workstation as we all started walking over. Almost as soon as she typed the commend, the main screen zoomed in on an anomaly in what looked like the Florida Everglades.

"Hmm... Subterranean energon deposit?" Jetfire guessed as he briefly looked at the screen before looking at Ratchet.

"Good guess." The white and red medic said to Jetfire before typing a command into his part of the workstation. "But the deposit isn't very large, I'd say about ten storage containers at the most." Ratchet said after he finished typing his command into the computer.

"Barely even large enough to activate our sensors, we shouldn't even bother trying to go find it." Springer said with a dismissive tone.

"Every container of energon helps in the long run." Arcee countered as she looked at the screen with a thoughtful expression of her faceplate. She spoke again after a micro-klick. "I'm going to go check it out. Jetfire, you're in charge until either I return, or Optimus and Prowl get back from patrol." Arcee said, as she grabbed an energon scanner from the workstation.

"Hey, can I come?" Jack asked. "It's been too long since I've been off-base, and I need to do something other than fall prey to Raf's cheating." He said as he jokingly pointed a thumb at Raf.

"I am not cheating nor am I tricking you!" Raf protested with a laugh, knowing Jack was only joking.

Arcee shrugged her shoulder-joints. "I don't see why you can't come along, Jack. It is just a routine scouting mission." She said, and then started walking toward the ground bridge as Ratchet started to activate it.

Springer stepped into her path before she had taken four steps. "Requesting permission to..." Springer looked Arcee's frame up and down, causing Arcee to start glowering at him while folding her servos over her chestplates. "_Accompany..._ You in the field TIC." Springer finished suggestively with a mischievous smile on his faceplate.

My spark pulsed darkly and a quiet growl worked its way out of my throat as I got the overwhelming urge to punch Springer for the way he was looking at Arcee, and I may have done exactly that if Arcee hadn't beaten me to the punch... Literally.

In a move that I doubt Jack or Raf could follow with their human eyes, Arcee uncrossed her servos and punched Springer in the tank, causing Springer to fall to the floor while he doubled over.

Arcee looked down at Springer without a trace of pity. "Request denied." She said in an icy tone, stepping over Springer as he laid on the floor and continued on her way to the ground bridge, which had been activated by Ratchet when she punched Springer.

"You coming or what, Jack?" Arcee called over her shoulder-joint, causing the human in question to shake his head and run to catch up with his guardian.

A few micro-klicks after Jack caught up with Arcee, both of them disappeared through the ground bridge.

Springer slowly got back onto his pedes after Arcee and Jack left. "She's still playing hard to get, but I can tell she's interested. I will have her right where I want her in a jour's time." He said, dusting himself off as he looked at the spot where Arcee disappeared through the ground bridge.

I glared at Springer for that comment, and before I knew what I was doing, I had crossed the distance between us and Gibbs slapped him in the back of the helm hard enough to knock him forward several paces.

Springer immediately grabbed his helm and starting rubbing the spot I Gibbs slapped him "The frag was that for?" The green Triple-Changer asked angrily, as he turned around to look at me with a look on his faceplate that mirrored the tone in his voice.

I was aware that the other Autobots were watching our exchange with apprehension, but I was too busy glaring at Springer to really care. "For being a sleazy dumb aft," I replied, as I crossed my servos over my chestplates.

Springer's changed from anger to slight disbelief. "You're angry about that?" He asked incredulously. "I'm not even doing anything wrong."

My glare turned into a scowl. "Ever since you and Jetfire arrived, ninety percent of the things you say to Arcee are either suggestive comments, or a sleazy attempt to hit on her. And you've been looking everywhere except her optics since the Sahara," I said with enough anger in my voice that I surprised even myself.

Springer rolled his optics. "Oh, and let me guess. You've never ever let your optics wander when looking at a femme? Especially a femme with a chassis like Arcee's?" He asked almost mockingly, as he tried go lean in my faceplate to intimidate me, something that wasn't going to work due to the fact I was more than a helm taller and more than half again as broad.

I leaned down slightly so I was the one getting in his faceplate. "No, no I have not. And I think you should start actually showing respect towards Arcee before all your ogling comes back to bite you in the aft in a way that makes the punch Arcee gave you look like a friendly tap." I practically growled, causing Springer to briefly pull his helm back at my furious tone before he leaned forward again, not wanting to seem like he was backing down from our confrontation.

We continued staring each other down for several micro-klicks before Jetfire put a servo on each of our chestplates and separated us.

"That is enough you two!" Jetfire said as he stood between Springer and I. "You're both Autobots, now act like it!" The old seeker yelled, looking back and forth between Springer and I with disapproval written on his faceplate.

Springer huffed and shook his helm. "I'm going on patrol." He said as he walked away from Jetfire and I and headed for the entrance tunnel. "There are too many unintelligent brutes at base for my liking." He said over his shoulder-joint, clearly meant to insult me, even though it was a very unoriginal insult.

A few micro-klicks after he spoke, Springer transformed into the Lamborghini Urus concept SUV that was his ground-based alt mode and left the base through the entrance tunnel.

I gave a sigh and shook my helm in an angry manner after Springer left base. "I'm going to go modify the turrets." I said as I started walking toward the bot-sized elevator, I wanted to go clear my CPU of the lingering anger I felt towards Springer before I talked with any of my fellow Autobots.

I quickly reached the elevator and hit the button for top side. After the elevator started moving, I leaned against the back of the elevator and waited for the elevator to arrive top side.

* * *

><p>Three breems went by after I stepped into the elevator. In that time, I had managed to make the modifications to the turrets I had planned.<p>

The turrets were now being powered by a small energon generator that allowed them to fire a seven hundred and seventy megajoule shot, more than six times as powerful as they had been originally. Not only were the helical railguns more powerful, but I had also modified the fifteen kilogram Tungsten-Ferrous slug they fired. Now each slug was coated in a metal we called Primax.

Of all the different Cybertronian alloys in existence, Primax was by far the most versatile. Primax came in dozens of different colors and levels of quality, the lowest quality of the metal was usually used for constructing buildings, middle level quality Primax was used for manufacturing medical tools and almost every basic Cybertronian technology, and the higher grade Primax was used for starship armor and the highest quality of melee weapons.

It was very rare for Primax to be found naturally, and what deposits of Primax that were found on Cybertron were always mixed in with other Cybertronian metals. Even after metal workers purified these deposits -or simply create it in a laboratory- the highest quality of Primax that was possible with our technology was only forty nine percent pure. That was far less pure than gold after humans purified it. But even though the highest quality of Primax was largely made up of different metals, Primax was still far stronger than any other metal Cybertronians had discovered. It was theorized that one hundred percent Primax was indestructible, immune to damage even from Quark-gluon plasma. It was also rumored that the Thirteen knew how to create Primax in its most pure form, and that they used pure Primax in the construction of their artifacts. But those were just rumors of course, that wasn't going to stop me from asking Solus and Megatronus the next time I visited them in the Pocket Universe though.

The quality of Primax I had used to coat the slugs of the helical turrets was sixteen percent pure, it wasn't the lowest quality, but it could be better. The reason I had coated each Tungsten-Ferrous round in Primax was because my modifications to the helicals had a slight side effect, the heat caused by the turret's firing sequence was increased by a factor of ten. So the Primax was there to prevent the round from simply melting before it was even fired from the helical's barrel, the Primax was also there to keep the small plasma-fission warhead I installed in each round from getting too hot and detonating before it could impact a target.

It may seem like over-kill or incredibly reckless to use nuclear weaponry, but for a Cybertronian, nuclear weapons were very easy to create, and even easier to focus the blast at the target you were aiming at. And since part of the warhead I created was plasma, which could soak radiation up like a sponge absorbs water, the small warhead wouldn't even give off any radiation when it exploded. So it was a win, win, there wouldn't be any problems with fallout, and the turrets were now actually useful in a fight against a Decepticon attack.

After I had modified the turrets, I immediately went to the mech washrack to clean off the grease and oil I had found myself covered in once I finished work on the turrets.

Right now, I was walking back into the ops center after I made my trip to the washrack.

I stepped into the ops center and saw Jetfire leaning against the wall next to the ground bridge while Moonracer and Ratchet stood at their spots at the workstation. Looking around the rest of the ops center, I didn't see Raf, Bumblebee or anyone else, it looked like the four of us were the only ones at base at the moment.

Jetfire noticed my presence and looked at me. "Shadowstreaker, come here a moment would you?" He asked, gesturing for me to stand next to him.

I walked over toward the old seeker and stood off to his left.

For several klicks neither of us said anything, just stood in silence while we watched Ratchet and Moonracer work.

"So," the seeker finally began in a quiet voice, causing me to look at him. "How long has it been since you started to like Arcee more than just as a friend?" Jetfire asked in a causal, off-handed manner.

I stiffened slightly and looked away from Jetfire. "I don't like Arcee in that way." I lied, forcing an even voice even though I was internally panicking.

I saw Jetfire give me a 'really?' look out of the corner of my optic. "You aren't_ that_ good hiding your emotions youngling," he said with a slight chuckle.

I gave a defeated sigh and looked back at Jetfire. "I started feeling the way I do back in June, before you and Springer arrived. I was injured in a battle with the Cons, it was after Arcee visited me in the med-bay that I discovered I cared for her more than as just as a friend." I explained, feeling strangely relieved that I had finally told someone about my crush on Arcee.

Jetfire nodded his helm. "I figured from the way you reacted to Springer's comments that you've been infatuated with Arcee for some time." He said. "So why haven't you told her?"

"I don't want to ruin our friendship. I know she doesn't like me in that way, so why go and ruin a friendship over a stupid crush?" I asked rhetorically.

Jetfire knew my question wasn't supposed to be answered, but he replied anyway. "Because you can never know exactly how someone else feels about you, youngling." He said, and then gestured to Moonracer and Ratchet.

"Take those two for example, they've been dancing around each other since before the war, I would know, I'm the one who introduced them. Both of them care about each other, pit, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that they love each other. But neither one of them know that the other feels the same way, and so they continue on in fear that if they tell the other how they feel, their friendship will be ruined." The old seeker said, he wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know, but annoyingly, he made a very good point.

I didn't know for certain how Arcee felt, or how she'd react. For all I knew, she had been harboring a crush on me just as long as I'd found out that I had a crush on her.

I looked at Ratchet as he worked alongside Moonracer. The white and red medic was clearly in denial about his feelings for Moonracer, the fact that he hit me with a wrench and stormed out of left the med-bay when I mentioned it was proof of that. But the mech was also oblivious that Moonracer felt the same way about him.

I shifted my gaze to Moonracer. The femme deeply feared the possibility that Ratchet would become uncomfortable with their friendship and avoid her if she told him about the feelings she harbored for him. And like Ratchet, she had been oblivious to the fact that Ratchet felt the same way about her. Even after I told her I believed Ratchet felt the same way, she still hadn't tried to tell him, she just continued as if our conversation in the med-bay two mega-cycles ago had never taken place.

Despite my best efforts, I couldn't stop myself from wondering if that was how Arcee and I were like. Both caring about each other more than just as a friend, but neither mech nor femme knew how the other felt, so they just behaved like they always had, as close friends and nothing more.

Seeing that I was deep in thought, Jetfire stopped leaning against the wall started to walk away. "Food for thought, youngling, food for thought." He said quietly, using one of the many human phrases he had grown fond of since he arrived on Earth. He disappeared down the hallway with those words, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Almost immediately after Jetfire left the ops center, there was a ping from the workstation as Arcee opened a communications channel.

_"Arcee to base, I need a bridge."_ She said in an angry, cold tone. It was a tone I hadn't heard her use since I first met her.

I walked over to the workstation and stood behind Ratchet. "Are you alright Arcee?" I asked, both concerned and puzzled why her tone was so angry.

_"I'm fine, Shadowstreaker."_ Arcee snapped, and then closed the channel with those angry words.

The way she used my full name instead of her usual nickname for me was highly unusual, she hadn't used my full name since before Wildwing crash landed. It made me even more puzzled.

'What happened out there?' I asked myself, turning to look at the ground bridge as Moonracer activated it.

The moment the ground bridge was fully activated, Arcee walked through the ground bridge at a faster pace than she usually walked. The look on her faceplate stoic, impassive, not giving any indication of the anger she no doubt felt. But the look in her optics was vastly different. There was nothing except pure, unadulterated hatred and fury in her optics as she stared straight ahead, not even acknowledging our presence.

I had only seen that look in Arcee's optics only once before, when I told her that Starscream offlined Cliffjumper.

As these thoughts went through my processor, Arcee walked through the ops center without a word and vanished down the hallway, most likely heading for her quarters.

I looked at the spot I had last seen Arcee until I heard human-sized footsteps approaching me. Looking back toward the ground bridge, I saw Jack walking into the ops center while he looked at where Arcee disappeared down the hallway.

"What happened out there, Jack?" I asked the human teen, hoping Jack could shed some light on the situation since Arcee walked away without a word.

Jack looked up at me. "Our trip off-base started out like I expected, we walked around, searched for the energon deposit and made a some small talk. But about half an hour after we left base, the scanner Arcee took started picking up a strange energy reading, and after we searched for the reading for a while, we found that a recently-crashed Cybertronian ship was the source of the reading." He paused to take a breath. "Arcee went inside the ship and came back out within a minute, then she said that she knew who the ship belonged to. But I don't know anything beyond that, she hasn't uttered a single word since she said that she knew who the ship belonged to." Jack finished apologetically, clearly wishing he knew what was wrong as well.

"Did you see the Decepticon that the ship belonged to?" Moonracer inquired, there was a tone in her voice suggesting she had a suspicion about who the Decepticon was, but wanted to know for certain before she said anything.

Jack nodded. "Yeah, it was a femme about Arcee's height and colored black with purple eyes. And these... Things on her back that looked like spider legs. She looked a lot like a spider come to think of it." He explained.

Ratchet sighed at the description Jack gave of the Decepticon. "Airachnid... The femme's name is Airachnid." He said with a shake of his helm and a sad look in the direction of Arcee's quarters.

Moonracer gave a sigh that was similar to Ratchet's. "No wonder Arcee didn't even acknowledge us," the green and white femme said to Ratchet in a voice that was almost too quiet for me to catch her words.

A short silence hung over the ops center before I spoke. "I'm going to go talk to her," I said, and then walked out of the ops center and down the hallway.

It didn't take me long to reach Arcee quarters, and when I saw the light on the control panel was red, I knocked on the door.

There was no response for several micro-klicks. "Whoever's out there, go away." The muffled voice of Arcee said in a flat, cold and almost threatening tone.

"It's Shadowstreaker, Arcee." I said loudly enough to be heard through the door.

Arcee paused for a moment. "You can come in," she said, warmth had replaced some of the anger and iciness in her voice. But there also was an emotion in her voice, one I had never heard in Arcee's voice before, sadness.

I looked at the control panel next to the door, the light was still red. "I can't exactly do that, Arcee. Your door is still locked. And I don't think you'd appreciate me knocking your door down." I said with a trace of humor in my voice, trying to at least slightly lighten Arcee's obviously somber mood.

"What? Oh, sorry about that. I'll unlock it for you." Arcee said as if she hadn't really been listening to my words, she clearly was distracted by something.

I didn't have time to wonder what was holding Arcee's attention before the light on the control panel turned green and the door automatically opened to reveal Arcee's quarters.

Arcee's quarters were smaller than mine, but not very much smaller.

There was a workbench against the right wall that had a disassembled Energon Battle Pistol lying next to a few different triggers and power cells, leading me to believe Arcee was modifying the Battle Pistol in some way. The workbench also was basically in the same spot as the workbench in my quarters.

The back left corner was occupied by a desk just like my own quarters, but the desk was much smaller, it was more suited for a bot of Arcee's size.

Something else that Arcee's quarters had in common with my quarters were the shelves lining the left and right walls. But unlike my shelves, the shelves in Arcee's quarters were packed with miscellaneous items, like parts of destroyed weapons, strange looking blue-tinted rocks, mangled pieces of armor that seemed to have -at one point- been Arcee's. Several other odd items were up on the shelves, I even saw what looked like the helm of an Insecticon on the left shelf.

I assumed from all the random items on the shelves that Arcee had a collection of souvenirs like I did, but she had a much larger collection than me, which wasn't surprising since she had been a warrior so much longer than I had.

The only difference between the arrangement of Arcee's quarters and my was that Arcee had her berth to the left and faced parallel with the wall, the berth was where Arcee was located.

Arcee was sitting with her pedes off the side of the berth, she was looking down at what looked like a holo-message and was replaying it over and over again.

I walked over to the berth and sat at a respectable distance from Arcee as she started the message again.

The holo-message began, and a dark red and white Autobot with light blue optics took center-stage.

_**"Hey Arcee,"**_ the unnamed Autobot said in Cybertronian. "**_If you're watching this then... Well... I'm offline, sorry partner. I hope I went down protecting you at least. Anyway, I am going to keep this short. I am leaving you my favorite sniper rifle, you know the one, Nucleon Charge Rifle with a shortened barrel and a thermal scope capable of zooming in on a Con's optic from fifty miles away?" _**The unnamed Autobot laughed, clearly very fond of the sniper rifle he was describing.**_ "Alright, I really don't have anything else to say, you know how I'm not very good these things. So... Talk to you later partner!"_** The Autobot finished with a chuckle, and then ended the holo-message.

Arcee and I sat in silence for a few micro-klicks, she didn't repeat the holo-message again, just looked down sadly at it. And I waited to see if she was going to say anything.

"Who was he?" I asked gently after it seemed like Arcee was content to just sit in silence.

Arcee looked up at me. "Tailgate, he was my first partner." She said in a sad and quiet voice.

There was another short silence. "What happened to him?" I asked carefully, knowing this was going to be a very sensitive subject.

I expected Arcee to shout and yell at me for bringing up the fate of her first partner. But instead, she looked away from me as her optics looked to be on the verge of tears.

"He and I were... We were captured by a Decepticon named Airachnid... She was infamous among the Autobots for her... Interrogation techniques." Arcee said in a slightly shaky voice.

I gave a quiet sigh as I realized where this was going, but I didn't interrupt Arcee.

Arcee continued after she took a breath. "Airachnid captured us at different times, she held me for two-mega-cycles and Tailgate was captive for just one. We were held in separate holding cells, she restrained us, we couldn't even move, and we didn't even know we were both being held until... Until Airachnid realized she couldn't get any information from us..." Arcee paused and wiped at her optics as tears threatened to drop. "And executed Tailgate in front of me... She would have executed me too if Bee' and Cliff' hadn't shown up." She finished in a weak voice, clearly trying and failing to force emotion out of her voice.

I sighed again, Arcee's explanation for what happened to Tailgate was even worse than I thought it would be.

Arcee spoke again. "We had just started courting... And I couldn't save him, I couldn't save him." She said as a tear fell from her faceplate and her optics grew distant, she was recalling the traumatic event she had described.

I reached over and shook her shoulder-joint. "Hey! You aren't there anymore, and Airachnid is gone." I said, gently trying to bring Arcee out of her sad memories.

My words didn't work.

"But I didn't save Tailgate, I could've saved him, I should have saved him!" Arcee said in an almost hysterical fashion.

Arcee abruptly leaned over and rested her helm against my side while wrapping her servos around my waist, her optics were unfocused and distant so she likely wasn't even aware of what she was doing. But I was too shocked by her action to know for certain.

For a micro-klick, I just sat there unmoving, sure what I should do. I settled for resting a servo around her should-joints and giving her a comforting look. "You couldn't have saved Tailgate, Arcee, you had been a captive for two mega-cycles. You would have been offlined before you had taken a single step in his direction." I said in a quiet, comforting voice, hoping facts would bring her back to the present.

"But I walked out of the prison under my own power. I might have been able to save Tailgate." Arcee argued, clearly still stuck in her memories.

"You were restrained, Arcee, you said it yourself that you couldn't move. There was nothing you could have done for Tailgate." I said in a gentle, but firm voice as I gave her shoulder-joint a reassuring squeeze.

Arcee was silent for a several micro-klicks. "No..." She finally said. "No there wasn't anything I could have done to protect Tailgate. I was restrained, and even if I somehow broke my restraints I was weak from being Airachnid's captive for two mega-cycles. I would have been offlined in a micro-klick." She accepted with a quiet and regretful tone.

"I am glad that you've finally realized that, Arcee." I said with a relieved tone, glad that she wasn't blaming herself for Tailgate's offlining anymore.

"Thanks for pointing that out to me, Shadow'." Arcee said gratefully.

"You're welcome, Arcee." I said with a slight smile that Arcee couldn't see since both of us were looking across Arcee's quarters.

We sat there for several klicks, neither one of us moving or speaking, we just sat in silence and enjoyed each other's company.

"Hey Shadow'?" Arcee asked, ending our long silence.

I looked down to look at Arcee at the same time she looked up at me, and we both froze as we realized that our faceplates were very close to each other, and our lips were mere inches apart.

Neither of us dared to move, the question Arcee had started to ask long forgotten as we were seemingly locked in a trance while we stared into each others optic's, cobalt blue meeting azure at a very short distance.

I realized that there was a thin circle of purple in Arcee's azure optics, and the only reason I noticed it was because of our extremely close proximity.

It was then that I also realized that Arcee hadn't tried to remove her servos from my waist the entire time we had been sitting here.

'FALL BACK! ' A voice in the back of my CPU screamed.

I ignored the voice and continued staring at Arcee, and she continued staring at me.

'TACTICAL RETREAT! CODE RED! DEFCON-1!' The voice yelled again, this time, I listened.

I quickly pulled my helm away from Arcee and stood up. "I... Um... My ah... And... The thing... You." I fumbled as my cooling fans activated.

Arcee looked up at me from the berth with confusion written on her faceplate and an emotion I couldn't read in her optics.

I stopped talking a moment and just stood in front of Arcee's berth, not entirely certain what I should do. "Um... Bye." I finally said in an awkward tone, and abruptly walked out of Arcee's quarters and down the hallway toward the elevator so I could head down to the Safe.

One thought was going through my processor as I walked toward the elevator. 'You are the king of awkward situations' I Gibbs slapped my helm and continued walking down the hallway.

* * *

><p>Arcee looked at the door to her quarters with a puzzled and pondering look on her faceplate.<p>

What had caused Shadowstreaker to suddenly up and leave? And why did his speech become so awkward so quickly?

'That's easy, the situation you were just in was as awkward as the washrack incident.' Arcee thought, sighing as she looked away from the door was puzzled over the feeling in her spark when Shadowstreaker pulled away.

Arcee thought about what Cyberfrost told her almost four jours ago.

_Arcee had laughed when Cyberfrost offered her a hug as thanks for helping to take care of Wildwing._

_"Of course," Arcee had told the other femme, and then stretched her servos out to accept Cyberfrost's offered hug._

_The smaller femme had wrapped her servos around Arcee and leaned toward her audio receptor. "That feeling your spark gets when you're around Shadowstreaker that you can't identify? You'll figure it out soon, and when that happens, don't push it away." Cyberfrost had whispered into Arcee's audio receptor, and then walked away._

_Arcee had looked at her in confusion and surprise. Somehow, the smaller femme knew that Arcee got a strange feeling in her spark when Shadowstreaker was around. But -more importantly- what did Cyberfrost mean by not pushing the feeling away when she figured out what it meant?_

Arcee brought herself out of her thoughts and went back puzzling over the feeling in her spark when Shadowstreaker was around.

The feeling she got when around Shadowstreaker wasn't like a feeling she had felt before. Her spark would beat several pulses faster and she found herself feeling happier, safer, like his mere presence was something she could add to the good things that happened that cycle. And when Shadowstreaker told a joke, laughed or just stood next to her, Arcee felt her spark perk up and soar. Like one of the birds of Earth would flutter its wings.

Arcee froze at that thought. 'Flutter?' She asked herself in slight shock.

Realization crossed Arcee's CPU, she liked Shadowstreaker, she liked him more than as just a close friend.

'You have a crush on Shadowstreaker,' she thought to herself with both a feeling of happiness and dread.

Arcee looked at the door to her quarters again and thought about when she and Shadowstreaker had come very close to accidentally kissing. Arcee's cooling fans activated at that thought. She had to admit, she had felt safe and... Content when she was resting up against Shadowstreaker. Arcee briefly considered the possibility of pulling Shadowstreaker aside and telling him about this feeling she just discovered, but she quickly snuffed that thought.

The last time she decided to act on her feelings for a mech, that mech was executed right in front of her optics. And when Cliffjumper was starting to become something more, he was offlined by the Decepticons. It seemed everyone who got close to her was offlined, she didn't want that to happen to Shadowstreaker as well, she couldn't live with herself if she acted on her new-found feelings for Shadowstreaker and he was offlined.

'I will not act on my feelings and allow Shadow' to be added to the list of offline mechs who get close to me,' Arcee thought to herself firmly, ignoring the sad feeling in her spark at her thought.

Looking away from the door again, Arcee sighed and looked down at the floor, thinking about how much she had lost, and how much she was now trying to prevent from being lost to the war.

* * *

><p><strong>So, Shadow' and Arcee almost accidentally kiss, Shadow' runs off and gives Sam Witwicky a run for his money in terms of his awkward speech, and Arcee realizes that she has a crush on Shadow'... Was it fluffy enough? Lol. <strong>

**But then I kinda ruined it by having Arcee be as stubborn as Shadow' hehe, but she does have a good reason. Whenever you see your first ever significant other killed right in front of you and then when you start being more than friends with someone else and they are killed as well, it would be traumatizing and you would likely blame yourself even if the situation was out of your control.  
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**This chapter's credit song is "Anberlin - Inevitable" This song really suits the chapter, especially the end when Arcee realizes she has a crush on Shadowstreaker.  
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**So, please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.  
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	19. Plague Ship

**And I have finally finished another chapter, I am sorry it was a long wait. But Mass Effect 3 is very distracting lol... At least until you watch the ending... And then you hate Bioware with a burning passion, I am not going to say anything about the ending other than it was absolutely terrible. **

**Anyway, I took a lot longer to write this chapter than I usually do, I am just glad that it isn't as long as my last five, I would have taken even longer to finish this. But I already have ideas for what to write next chapter, so hopefully it will be both longer, and won't take as long to write. :)  
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**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.  
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**Devil-O-Angel - DEFCON-1 is the highest level of readiness in the United States Armed Forces, it is only used when Nuclear war is imminent. Wonderful story? *Looks around for story* Just kidding, I am a humble person so I think my story is decent at best, but I thank you anyway. :)  
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**707cloud - Review for chapter 6. A few of the terms in this story are from the Transformers Wiki, but most of them have been used in numerous stories on this site, so I decided to use them in this story. Review for chapter 9. I had so much fun writing that part lol, I just could get the mental image of Shadowstreaker shooting the med-bay floor haha.  
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**Fox of Magic - Even if you were right, do you really expect me to answer that? Lol. :) *Looks at date* *Rubs back of neck sheepishly* Wasn't that soon huh? Here's to hoping the next chapter doesn't give me as much trouble. :)  
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**Mikaela the Cat - Seriously? Well how about that? Lol. And what can I say? My muse demanded fluff! hehe.  
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**jayna prime - You're welcome big little sis. :) I am glad you enjoyed the chapter. ^.^  
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**KayleeChara - Thanks! :D Lol, sorry I made you walk away from the computer lol, and a better way to describe the way Arcee is reacting is either being stubborn, or being careful. The one time she ever acted on her feelings for a mech she saw him killed right in front of her, so ya can't blame her for being careful. And I am sorry the romantic in you is angry lol, it will just have to be patient! Hehe. :)  
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**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.  
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* * *

><p><strong>November 4, 2012 4:57 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

Two solar-cycles had passed since Arcee told me about what happened to her first partner, Tailgate.

Things were -understandably- a little awkward between Arcee and I. Whenever you almost kiss your close friend, who happens to be the femme you have a crush on, things are inevitably going to be awkward for a while.

Right now, I was standing behind the Xbox area in the ops center as I watched Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers with Jack, Raf and Miko, while Arcee and Optimus talked near the ground bridge.

"No! They killed Haldir! Why'd they do that?" Miko half asked, half yelled at the holographic video screen in front of us from where she sat between Raf and Jack.

Like Jack and Raf, Miko had changed quite a bit since I first met her. Miko now stood at five feet six inches and her hair would have been much longer if she still didn't have it tied in a braid, but even then her hair was still roughly four inches longer than it had been when I first met her. Miko was also, for lack of a better word, curvier, a clear sign that she was becoming a women.

Judging by the occasional look I saw Jack give Miko, Miko's changes hadn't gone unnoticed by the oldest of our human charges.

'Something to keep an optic on,' I thought to myself just before Jack replied to Miko's words.

"Because, Miko. Haldir died in the books, so they had to kill him in the movie," he said as he reached into the bowl of popcorn that he and Raf had made for a the movie.

"Actually, Haldir didn't die in the books, he didn't even go to Helm's Deep in the book. He only dies in the movies." I said matter-of-factly, while Aragorn retreated to the keep to escape the flood of Uruk-Hai chasing him.

Jack paused. "Oh... Then I don't know why they killed him off." Jack said after a brief moment, directing the majority of his statement at Miko.

Miko shook her head, but didn't say anything.

Apart from the occasional comment, we didn't really speak much after that, just sat in silence and watched the movie.

Miko was the first to speak after the movie was finally over. "As amazing as that movie was, please tell me the third one isn't as long as that one." She said, as she stood up from the couch.

"No, Miko. The third movie isn't as long as this one." I began, my words caused Miko to give a sigh of relief. "The third movie is even longer," I finished, laughing as Miko groaned.

Miko turned to look at me, but whatever she was going to say was immediately forgotten as a pair of pings followed by a steady beeping sounded from the workstation.

Moonracer and Ratchet typed commands into their respective parts of the workstation as I started walking over to the two medics. The moment I finished walking over, the main screen displayed two anomalies in two different locations on Earth, one anomaly was in China, and the other was in South Africa.

"What'd you two find?" I asked, briefly looking over my shoulder-joint as Optimus and Arcee approached before looking back at the medics.

My question was ignored as Ratchet addressed Optimus. "Optimus! You're not going to believe this!" Ratchet said in a urgent and slightly excited voice.

"What will I not believe, Ratchet?" The Prime asked as he walked past me and stood next to Ratchet.

"Because somehow the cloaking device on the Nemesis has failed, I can now pinpoint its location to within a meter." Ratchet said, while he typed another command into his part of the workstation and an image of the Nemesis filled the main screen. "Currently, the Nemesis is hidden in a remote valley in China, my guess is they're trying to fix their cloaking device."

"Add up Megatron being offline, the element of surprise on our side and the fact there are ten of us." Arcee said with a smile. "And we could deal some serious damage to the Nemesis." Arcee stretched the joints in her digits, the Cybertronian equivalent of cracking her knuckles, for emphasis.

"We'd still be outnumbered at least a hundred to one." I pointed out. "Even with the element of surprise those aren't very good odds."

"True," Arcee replied simply before falling silent.

Optimus looked at Arcee and I for a brief moment before looking back at Ratchet. "And the other anomaly that was on screen?" Optimus asked, obviously wanting to know the significance of the other anomaly before taking any kind of action.

Moonracer answered Optimus' question instead. "We've detected an Autobot emergency beacon in what the humans call the Namib Desert." She said, and then typed a command into her part of the workstation and the image of the Nemesis was replaced by the image of the anomaly in South Africa.

Optimus looked over at Moonracer. "Can you confirm the beacon is not a Decepticon trap?" The Prime asked.

Moonracer shook her helm. "I rechecked the signal twice, it's authentic, but I can't determine if the Decepticons found a deactivated Autobot beacon and activated it to lure us into a trap. The only way to find out if it's a trap is if we ground bridge to the beacon's location." The green and white femme explained.

Optimus was silent for several micro-klicks, likely gathering his thoughts. "We will postpone our assault on the Nemesis until further notice, there is a chance that Autobots are in need of assistance." The Prime finally said, and looked at Ratchet and Moonracer. "Go and grab your medical kits, we will need them if we find injured Autobots."

Both Ratchet and Moonracer nodded and walked toward the med-bay.

Optimus looked at Arcee and I after Ratchet and Moonracer left the ops center. "If the beacon is indeed a trap, then we need to be ready. Shadowstreaker, Arcee, you two will accompany Ratchet, Moonracer and myself to the Autobot ship." Optimus ordered.

"Understood, Prime." I replied simply.

"Got it, Optimus." Arcee said, giving Optimus a short, simple response as well.

Optimus turned toward Raf after Arcee and I acknowledged his orders. "Rafael," the Prime said. "Contact the others, tell them to report back to base and prepare for an assault on the Nemesis when we return." He said as Moonracer and Ratchet returned from the med-bay with medical kits in their servos.

Raf nodded and ran over to the Xbox area to get his laptop so he could contact the others while Ratchet walked back over to the workstation and activated the ground bridge.

Optimus snapped his battle mask over his faceplate and walked past Arcee and I on his way towards the ground bridge. "Autobots, move out." He said, continuing to approach the ground bridge while in true form instead of vehicle form.

Following Optimus' example, we all stayed in our true forms and followed Optimus to the ground bridge. Soon, all five of us disappeared through the green portal.

* * *

><p><strong>November 5, 2012 12:09 A.M<strong>

**Somewhere in the Namib Desert**

I looked around at our surroundings once the five of us stepped through the other side of the ground bridge.

The sky was perfectly clear and the moon was bright enough that my optics didn't even need to adjust to the light. And since there was very little light pollution in this part of Earth, the galactic center was plainly visible in the night sky.

Sand was, obviously, everywhere, and I saw nothing but sand dunes in every direction I looked. But the ground was also covered in a layer of frost, unsurprising since it was so late in the orbital-cycle.

There was a particularly large sand dune was directly in front of us that I estimated to be about three hundred meters tall. The sand dune was so long that I couldn't see an end to when I looked to the left or the right. And roughly half-way up the sand dune, there was a Cybertronian vessel that was mostly buried in the sand dune.

"It looks like this thing's been here since the war." Arcee said, looking up at the Cybertronian ship while she stepped up next to me.

"Then it is very unlikely they'll be any survivors," I observed grimly.

"However unlikely the odds of there being survivors, we will still conduct a thorough search." Optimus said. "Move out."

My fellow Autobots and I acknowledged Optimus' command with a nod and we all walked up toward the downed Autobot ship.

After we reached the ship and found a way inside, we found ourselves in a long, dark and narrow hallway.

I looked around at the walls and floor of the hallway.

The walls looked worn down and slightly deteriorated, something that didn't happen to Cybertronian metals through any natural process.

The floor was far darker than it should have been with all the moon light flooding in from outside, it gave the hallway an ominous and errie feel.

My fellow Autobots and I stood in silence for almost a klick before I broke the long silence.

"Well... Who wants to walk down the dark, creepy hallway inside a downed Autobot ship first?" I asked dryly, trying to lighten the dark hallway a bit with a joke.

My joke caused Ratchet to roll his optics while Moonracer and Arcee gave a short laugh and shake their helms in slight amusement.

Optimus gave me a short, humored look. "Challenge accepted," he said. The Prime then turned and walked down the hallway without another word.

I stood in a shocked silence for several micro-klicks while Moonracer, Ratchet and Arcee laughed, with the two femmes in near hysterics and the gruff mech giving a slight chuckle.

"Did Optimus just... Quote an internet meme?" I asked no one in particular, still in shock that the Prime had just made a joke while still on a mission.

"Yes... Yes he did." Arcee said in between fits of laughter.

I nodded my helm. "Yeah that's what I thought." I said as we started following Optimus down the hallway. "And just think," I continued. "We can tell our sparklings that we witnessed Optimus Prime making a joke while still on a mission." I finished with a laugh.

Moonracer and, surprisingly, Ratchet chuckled at my joke. But Arcee was strangely silent, and I could have sworn I heard a faint hum that sounded like a fan. But I shrugged it off as my audio receptors hearing things as we caught up with Optimus as he stood in front of a closed door that was covered in dark stains, never a good sign.

"Looks like the seals are corroded, the only way that door is opening is if it's completely replaced." Ratchet said, looking at the slightly discolored sides of the door. "But, it looks like the metal itself is worn down, deteriorating, it wouldn't take much to break the door down." The white and red medic concluded.

Optimus gave me a meaningful look after Ratchet spoke.

Immediately knowing what he wanted me to do, I deployed my Scatter-Blaster and fired three shots at the door in rapid succession. The first shot opened up a hole that was large enough for Arcee and Moonracer to walk through if they ducked. The second shot expanded the hole to the point that Ratchet could have walked through without any problems. And the third shot caused the door to completely fall apart, leaving the five of us with an unobstructed path to the next room.

I was the first to step through the newly opened door and was met by complete and utter darkness on the other side, it was so dark that I couldn't even see Arcee as she bumped into me. And the only reason I knew it was Arcee was because I recognized her voice when she said a quick apology before I heard her walk away.

The darkness was so total that it took my optics half a klick to adjust to the lack of light, and when my optics adjusted to the darkness, I wished they hadn't.

The first thing my optics took in when they adjusted to the darkness was the lifeless frame of an Autobot mech lying on the floor directly in front of me. The chassis of the mech an unnatural shade of grey, and even though it was clear that this ship had been here since the war on Cybertron, the mech was lying in a pool of his own energon. But the energon wasn't its usual blue color and it wasn't even glowing, the energon was a foul mixture of a green, light grey and dark red, giving the energon a sickly look to it.

I looked away from the chassis of the mech and saw another offlined Autobot, this one a femme, in a similar state as the first chassis I saw. Looking in all directions, I found that my fellow Autobots and I were surrounded by the offlined frames of several dozen Autobots, all of them were colored the same gunmetal grey as the first and all were lying in a pool of their own sickly looking energon.

"This is a plague ship," Optimus said grimly, voicing the thought I am certain was running through everyone's processor.

As if Optimus' words were a trigger, pain coursed through my helm as a detailed vision was seared into my CPU.

_My vision began with Optimus shaking his helm slightly as he looked down at one of the offlined Autobots I had seen on the ship._

_"Optimus!" The voice of Ratchet said before my vision briefly shifted to the medic as he scanned another of the offlined Autobots. "These Autobots didn't perish in the crash, they're displaying the affects... Of a virus." Ratchet finished with a slightly fearful tone._

_"This is a plague ship," the Optimus in my vision said, repeating the words I had just heard before my vision began._

_When Optimus took a step forward, Ratchet ran in front of him and put a servo on his chestplates. "Don't. Touch. Anything!" The medic said in a firm and urgent voice, putting emphasis on each word he said. "The virus could still be active."_

_Before any other words could be spoken by either mech, the ship shifted and Ratchet fell to the floor while Optimus was barely able to keep himself on his pedes, and even then he was in a kneeling position._

_As Ratchet picked himself off the floor and Optimus stood to his full height, there was crash that sounded like a metal beam breaking and my vision changed to show an offlined Autobot mech somehow hanging from the ceiling directly above Optimus. The chassis hanging from the ceiling shifted in its position and fell downward several feet before it stopped moving, but several drops of sickly looking energon to fall from the chassis of the offlined Autobot. These drops of energon fell onto Optimus' helm and caused the Prime to wave his servos in an almost panicked manner, like a human would swat at bees._

_Ratchet looked at Optimus in horror and disbelief. "No..." The medic said with a tone that mirrored his expression._

_My vision ended with Ratchet's words._

The moment my vision ended, I ignored the pain coursing through my helm and looked up at the ceiling for the offlined Autobot. When I found the Bot, I looked down from the ceiling to see if Optimus was standing beneath the offline mech. Luckily, the Prime wasn't standing under the offlined Autobot like he was in my vision... But Arcee was.

Before I could shout a warning over to Arcee to move, the ship suddenly shifted and all of us were sent to the floor as the ship shook.

I looked up at the offlined Autobot from my spot on the floor when the ship stopped shaking, the chassis started falling toward the floor the moment I looked at it. I didn't think about what I could do, I just acted.

With speed that greatly surprised me, I got back onto my pedes and ran toward Arcee. The moment I reached her, I wrapped my servos around her tank turned and half threw, half pushed her in the direction I just came from, removing her from the danger of getting infected. But even though Arcee was now safe from infection, my action had a consequence, I was now standing under the Autobot chassis.

No more than a micro-klick after I half threw Arcee away from where I now stood, I felt four small droplets of energon land on the top of my helm.

I felt slightly weaker the moment the droplets of energon fell on me, and a burning sensation started to form as soon as the droplets landed on my helm, more than likely it was the infected energon started to spread in my frame.

For several micro-klicks, I just stood there with my helm tilted downward as I looked at the floor. When I finally looked up at my fellow Autobots, I saw that they all were staring at me with different levels of shock and horror.

"This is going to suck isn't it?" I asked in a completely serious deadpan. I was not even trying to put any humor behind my words.

No one responded to my words. Instead, Ratchet walked over and quickly scanned me.

A look of dread and fear crossed Ratchet's faceplate before he mastered himself. "We need to get you back to base this moment!" The white and red medic said urgently, and then started walking toward the doorway as Optimus opened a channel to base and requested a ground bridge.

I quickly followed Ratchet toward the door, feeling my strength wane slightly and the burning sensation increase with each step I took as the infected energon spread throughout my chassis. And by the time I reached the door, I felt noticeably weaker and the burning sensation made my helm feel like it was on fire.

Moonracer walked past me and up to Ratchet as the other medic walked at a brisk pace. "What virus has Shadowstreaker been infected with? Please tell me it's not what I believe it is." She spoke quietly, clearly trying not to be heard by me.

I barely heard the sigh Ratchet gave. "Unfortunately it is. My scan identified the virus as the cybonic plague." He replied in a quiet, grim voice, evidently also trying to keep me from hearing.

"Well isn't _that_ fanfraggingtastic?" I asked sarcastically, making it known that I had heard what the two medics were discussing. "I've contracted the one virus that doesn't have a cure, or a survival rate."

Immediately after those words left my mouth, I fell to the floor as the infected energon spread down to my neck and caused the burning sensation to increase in its intensity to the point that it felt like my helm and neck were on fire.

I laid on the floor in misery for almost three klicks before the pain subsided and I tried getting back on my pedes. But I had no success, each I attempt I made to get up ended in me falling back on the floor.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Arcee move toward me and offer a servo to help me up.

"Don't touch him!" Ratchet suddenly yelled, causing Arcee to quickly retract her offered servo. "The cybonic plague spreads to new hosts through direct contact with those already infected, to prevent anyone else from being infected, none of us can touch Shadowstreaker."

Arcee stood next to me for a micro-klick before she hesitantly stepped away from me, giving me a regretful and apologetic look as she did so, clearly she was blaming herself for my current condition.

"Don't blame yourself, Arcee. There wasn't anything you, or anyone else could have done to prevent this." I said as I used the wall to help me get back on my pedes and then started to walk over to where we could leave the ship.

"I could've looked up," Arcee replied, voice filled with self-loathing and guilt.

"And search the ceiling for offlined frames that were infected with the cybonic plague?" I asked with a mix of exasperation and humor.

Arcee gave me a short look, but said nothing in response.

It wasn't long before we exited the ship and saw the ground bridge just outside. But the moment I stepped onto the frost-covered sand, I fell the ground as the infected energon reached my spark, the wave of pain that ripped through my chassis made my first collapse in the ship seem almost pleasant. The pain was so severe that my frame forced me into a brief recharge to numb the pain.

_A massive silver mech with crimson optics and spiked shoulder-joints towered over the grey and black form of a seeker with red optics and the Decepticon insignia branded into his chestplates._

_I recognized both mechs, the seeker that was cowering before the silver mech was Startscream. And, much to my confusion, the silver mech himself was Megatron, who was steadily advancing towards the far smaller seeker._

_It seemed Megatron was speaking to Starscream, but I couldn't hear what he was saying though. But, I could tell that whatever Megatron was saying didn't mean anything good for Starscream since the seeker kept backing away from the warmonger with fear written on his faceplate._

_Without warning, Megatron aimed the Fusion Cannon on his right servo at Starscream. The last thing I saw before onlining from my forced recharge was the barrel of Megatron's Fusion Cannon glowing a sinister shade of purple as it powered up._

I snapped my optics open with a start the moment I onlined from my brief recharge.

'What the frag was that?' I asked myself, beyond confused by how I just had a vision of Megatron and Starscream.

I didn't get time to puzzle over my strange vision as I looked up and I saw my fellow Autobots standing next to the ground bridge, clearly waiting for me to enter first.

With great difficulty, I managed to get back on my pedes and walk toward the ground bridge. But I was so weak that it took me nearly two klicks to reach the ground bridge and leave the plague ship behind in the Namib Desert.

* * *

><p><strong>November 4, 2012 6:33 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

I saw Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Prowl, Springer and Jetfire standing in the ops center when I slowly walked through the ground bridge.

When I stepped into the ops center, all except Jetfire and Prowl gave me an unnecessarily wide berth, clearly they had been informed of my condition.

Usually I would have made a joke about their reaction to my presence, but I really care at the moment, I just wanted to get to the med-bay so I didn't have to walk anymore.

I stumbled just as I entered the hallway, but I somehow was able to keep myself from falling down for the third time and continued my incredibly slow, painful walk to the med-bay.

After five klicks of agony, I reached the med-bay and leaned heavily against the wall next to the door as the door itself automatically opened.

I started walking toward a medical berth after I leaned against the wall for a few moments to catch my breath, figuratively speaking of course. But I stumbled and fell to the floor before I had taken three steps in the direction of the berth.

Instead of trying to get back on my pedes again, I crawled over to the medical berth and used what strength I had left to pull myself up onto the berth.

After I pulled myself up onto the berth, I was so weak that I was only faintly aware of Ratchet and Moonracer as they entered the med-bay.

I laid on the medical berth for a total of fifteen micro-klicks before my frame forced me into another recharge.

_The moment I fell into my forced recharge, I found myself standing in a wide, dark canyon._

_Black clouds filled the sky from horizon to horizon, and occasionally I would hear a faint rumble from a far-off thunderstorm._

_Suddenly hearing sounds of battle, I looked at the canyon floor and saw the two familiar forms of Ratchet and Optimus._

_They were surrounded by hundreds of Cybertronians that had glowing purple lines all across their frames and were mindlessly rushing at the two Autobots they surrounded._

_Ratchet was using both of his short swords with surprising amount of skill and speed and the dismembered remains of well over a dozen Cybertronians lay it the base of his pedes, an impressive number of offlines just from using swords._

_But while Ratchet's total of offlines from using his swords was impressive, Optimus' chassis count was awe-inspiring._

_The Prime's moments were difficult to follow as he sliced and diced his way through the Cybertronians that attempted to swarm him. He was swinging his swords so quickly that he would carve a Cybertronian into multiple pieces before the frames of his opponents even had time to hit the ground. The offlined Cybertronians around him were literally stacked in piles._

_But, for Cybertronian that fell to the blades of Optimus and Ratchet, two would replace them, and both Ratchet and Optimus were starting to show signs of fatigue. They were slowly being overrun._

_After Optimus and Ratchet continued fighting the Cybertronians under the control of Dark Energon for another klick, Optimus was swarmed by a dozen of the monstrosities at once and was overwhelmed. But not before he managed to take down another Cybertronian by deploying one of his blasters and shooting off the helm of one of his attackers._

_Ratchet, distracted by Optimus getting overwhelmed, soon suffered the same fate and several Cybertronians piled on top of him._

_My surroundings abruptly faded to black just as Optimus broke free from his attackers._

_For several klicks, my world was pitch black, but then a light pierced through the darkness and I found myself at in a new location._

_I was facing a door while I stood inside a large room with dark grey walls and for some strange reason spikes protruding from the floor._

_Hearing a steady beeping from behind me, I turned around and immediately recoiled as if struck by a nonexistent blow._

_Hooked up to various medical equipment and lying on a berth tilted at an angle... Was Megatron._

_Megatron looked like he had seen better cycles. His chassis was riddled with scores of dents and scratches, and his entire frame was blackened as if he had been set on fire. But the injury that really got my attention was the gaping hole in his chestplates just above his spark, a wound that should be fatal. But somehow, the medical equipment next to him was reading a steady sparkbeat as well as CPU activity, the warmonger was still online._

_I heard the door open behind me and I turned around again, Arcee and Bumblebee were standing in the doorway, both with looks of complete and utter shock on their faceplates._

_Arcee seemed to answer a question from someone on a comm-link. "It's Megatron... He's online," she said in a surprised voice, but also with a tone of well-placed hatred._

_Bumblebee deployed his blasters and Arcee deployed one of her Photon Burst Rifles and they slowly walked toward Megatron, both ignoring me as they moved toward the warmonger, leading me to believe they couldn't see me._

_Arcee spoke again. "Well I'm staring right at him," she said, likely addressing the Bot she was talking to through the comm-link. "Good news is, Megatron isn't exactly staring back."_

"He looks like slag."_ Bumblebee said, stepping a bit closer to Megatron and looking over the warmonger's burned, scratched and dented chassis. _"But then again, Megatron always looked like slag."_ The yellow and black scout finished with a slight laugh._

_Arcee gave Bumblebee a brief look before speaking again. "His condition's critical, he's hooked up to life support." Arcee aimed her blaster at Megatron's inert chassis. "Time to finish this war once and for all." She started powering up her blaster as she spoke._

_Arcee suddenly stopped powering up her blaster, but didn't point it away from the warmonger's chassis as she spoke again._

_"One good reason... Fast." She said, clearly addressing the Bot on the other side of her communications channel_

_A confused look crossed Arcee's faceplate and she stopped aiming at Megatron. "What are you talking about?" She asked the Bot on the other side of the channel._

_Bumblebee and Arcee stood in silence for a micro-klick, they likely were listening to the Bot on the comm-link._

_After the moment of silence passed, Arcee looked at the medical equipment next to Megatron. "Yeah, his CPU's activity is spiking. His sick processor is still at work," the blue femme said with disgust clear in her voice._

_There was another pause as Bumblebee and Arcee listened to the Bot on the comm-link._

_'I really wished I could listen in on the comm-link, this is getting annoying,' I thought with displeasure as I waited for Bumblebee or Arcee to speak again._

_Mercifully, I didn't have to wait long to find out what the other Bot was saying to Bumblebee and Arcee._

_"Enter Megatron's CPU? Ratchet, Moonracer, are you both are you fragging insane?" Arcee suddenly asked incredulously as she put both her servos on her hips, at last identifying who was on the other side of the communications channel._

_'From what you just said, yeah I'd say so.' I thought to myself in shock, entering the CPU of the worst war criminal in the history of our race wasn't on my list of things to do... Ever._

_There was a short silence before Arcee spoke again._

_"No way, have either of you ever even preformed the procedure?" Arcee asked through the comm-link, causing me to wonder what Moonracer and Ratchet had said._

_Another period of silence, but this one wasn't as long as the previous silence._

_"Whoa," Arcee said. "Can't we just haul Megatron through the ground bridge to give us some time to figure this out?" She asked, her voice was hopeful, but I could tell she already knew her suggestion wasn't going to work._

_The look on Arcee's faceplate grew cold and slightly angry as she listened to whatever the response was from Ratchet and Moonracer. "You feel bad because you can't provide him with any treatment? How the frag do you think I feel? The only reason Shadow' even has the cybonic plague is because I didn't pay attention to my surroundings." She said with a guilt-ridden voice._

_'Wait, this is actually happening? Megatron is still online?' I thought, to say I was shocked would be an understatement._

_I've had several visions before, including the one of Ratchet and Optimus in the canyon I had just a few klicks ago. But each of my visions were at least slightly different than what happened in reality, an example being that Arcee nearly was infected by the cybonic plague instead of Optimus. But the fact that I was watching an actual event located in a ship that likely was thousands of miles from where I was lying in the med-bay... It was impossible._

_'So is turning into a different race,' the thought went into my CPU seemingly of its own accord._

_I had to admit, my CPU made a good point... And now I am treating my own CPU like a separate being, fantastic._

_Arcee continued speaking while I basically started talking to myself. "I would gladly take Shadowstreaker's place on that berth, it's where I should be in the first place. But there's no guarantee the cortical psychic patch would even work, it's a theoretical procedure. And even if it does work, where would we find the cure in Megatron's CPU? Among the memories of his time as a gladiator? Hidden in a seemingly meaningless conversation? In the memories of a time before the war? Or maybe in the memories of his rumored... Conquests." Arcee shivered as she said the last part, leading me to believe she wasn't talking about Megatron's battles._

_'Damned Decepticons,' I thought with anger as Bumblebee walked towards Arcee with a purpose in his steps._

"I'll do it, I'll enter Megatron's CPU."_ The yellow and black scout said seriously._

_Arcee turned to Bumblebee and shook her helm. "No, I'll go, Bee'. It's my fault Shadow' is even infected, the least I can do is try and find a cure for him. And that means entering Megatron's CPU, so be it." She said in a tone that held no room for argument._

_Bumblebee argued anyway. "_We don't have time to debate this, Arcee. If there's a cure in Megatron's CPU, we need to find it as fast as possible. And I'm a better scout than you are."_ There was no arrogance in Bumblebee's voice, he was just stating a fact._

_Arcee looked like she wanted to argue against Bumblebee's logic, but after a long moment of silence, she sighed._

_"Alright, 'Bee." She said with grudging acceptance before addressing the two medics on the other end of the comm-link. "Moonracer, Ratchet, what do we need to do?" She asked, and then fell silent as she listened to their response._

_A few micro-klicks after Arcee spoke, my surroundings faded to black once more and I quickly found myself in another new location._

_'I get the feeling I am going to be here a while,' I thought with a sigh as a vision of Optimus chasing after a train appeared in front of me. I crossed my servos and sighed again as I continued to watch the vision play out._

_I watched dozens upon dozens of visions after seeing Arcee and Bumblebee on the Nemesis, some of the visions lasted for twenty klicks, and others lasted for only a few micro-klicks._

_Some of my visions showed me events I had personally lived out, the events in the visions were very different at times than what actually happened because I was never in the visions. But it was still interesting to watch a few familiar events from a third person point of view._

_One of the visions I received was of Optimus and Bumblebee fighting a Decepticon seeker that was roughly my height. That particular vision was one of the longer ones, and I found out that the seeker's name was Skyquake, the same seeker that Optimus and Bumblebee had fought when I was still training._

_And another one of my visions was of Jack getting Bumblebee to help him impress a girl at school by racing in an illegal circuit. Even though I knew that hadn't actually happened, I found that to be an unbelievably stupid move on Jack's part. Whenever a girl wants you to take part in a highly dangerous, and illegal, race circuit just to give you a chance to get a date with them, it's never a good idea to partake in said race, it was more than likely that she was just seeing if Jack would do it._

_But the Jack in my vision thought it would be a great chance to impress the girl, and nearly got another human kidnapped by Knockout, of course the other human was an aft, but still._

_After what must have been five breems of endless visions, I finally onlined._

I slowly opened my optics and immediately noticed the pain raging through my chassis when I was forced into recharge was gone along with my fatigue.

Arcee's voice suddenly spoke. "Good to see you're finally online," she said in a pleasant and relieved tone.

I raised my helm and looked over at her and saw that Arcee was sitting in a chair next to my medical berth, other than Arcee, I didn't see anyone else in the med-bay.

I rose an optic ridge at Arcee's wording. "Finally?" I asked. "How long was I out?"

"Four solar-cycles," Arcee replied simply.

I raised my other optic ridge at that. "Four solar-cycles? I was out that long?" I asked in surprise, not certain I heard her correctly.

My secret crush gave a single nod. "Yeah, you've been out since we returned from the crashed ship." She said, shifting in her chair slightly so she could cross her pedes over each other.

I got an alarming thought. "Are we going to bury that ship again? I don't even want to think about the things the Cons will do if they get their servos on the cybonic plague." I said quickly, disturbed by the possibility of the Decepticons obtaining the virus.

Arcee shook her helm. "No, we already went one better than just burying it. Optimus contacted General Shepherd and explained the situation. After Optimus told him about the cybonic plague, Shepherd contacted a pair of destroyers the S.T.F upgraded for the United States Navy, they bombarded the entire area with helical railguns. There's nothing left of that ship except scrap metal." Arcee explained with a smile, inadvertently causing my spark to flutter, fragging spark.

"Good," I said as I sighed in relief, there was no telling what the Decepticons would do with the cybonic plague if they obtained it.

"Very, the Decepticons would probably modify the cybonic plague if they obtained it, the cure we found on the Nemesis more than likely would become useless." Arcee replied, smile waning as she spoke in a more serious tone.

I widened my optics slightly. "You actually went inside the Nemesis and entered-" I started to ask before Arcee cut me off.

"Megatron's CPU like in your vision?" She completed my sentence, she elaborated at the confused look I gave her. "You were talking in your recharge, describing your visions to us as you did so. Including your vision of Bee' and I on the Nemesis, Ratchet is still scratching his helm over that. Moonracer and I keep telling him that with the Thirteen involved, you shouldn't even bother trying to figure it out, but he never listens." Arcee finished with a laugh.

I waited for Arcee to finish laughing before I asked. "And Megatron?"

Any humor that was in Arcee's optics immediately vanished. "He's back, Megatron somehow hitched a ride with Bumblebee when Bee' came back out of Megatron's CPU. And the son of a glitch took control of Bumblebee's chassis and used it to revive his own. Bumblebee's back in control of his chassis, but Megatron's retaken control of the Decepticons from Starscream, he hasn't made a move yet, but it's just a matter of time." She said grimly.

I only half-listened to Arcee's explanations after she confirmed Megatron was still online. "Damn it all," I said with a heavy sigh. "It's my fault Megatron's back."

"No it isn't, none of us knew Megatron was hitching a ride in Bumblebee's frame until it was too late." Arcee said, dismissing my claim of being at fault.

"My life isn't worth your life or the lives of any of our fellow Autobots, let alone worth the cost of my survival. You wouldn't have needed to go to the Nemesis in search of a cure if I hadn't gotten infected, so it is at least partially my fault that Megatron's back, if not the sole reason." I argued with frustration directed at myself and let my helm fall back to the berth heavily.

Arcee appeared in my vision again as she leaned forward. "You aren't at fault in the slightest, if anyone should be at fault it's me, I was the one who was about to get infected by the cybonic plague and you saved my aft. And for that I thank you," she said with a slight smile.

I smiled as well before Arcee continued. "Besides, if Megatron was offline then we wouldn't have found the cure for you, and you wouldn't be with us right now." She said in slightly sad tone that carried something else I couldn't identify, it was almost as if she was hurt by how I was angry at myself for Megatron's return.

I looked at her for a few moments before I sighed again. "You're right, Arcee, I'm not the reason for Megatron's return." I said with reluctant acceptance, still not completely convinced I didn't play a role in Megatron's return.

Judging by the look in Arcee's optics, she knew I wasn't totally convinced she was right, but she let it go and moved away from me as she leaned back in her chair with her pedes crossed over each other.

I closed my optics after Arcee leaned back in her chair, not to recharge again, but just to relax. "So," I said after a moment of silence. "Besides the return of the worst war criminal in the history of the Cybertronian race, what did I miss?" I asked.

I could almost hear the smile that formed on Arcee's faceplate. "Oh, not much. Just Moonracer and Ratchet finally getting together," she said in a causal and dry manner.

My optics flew open and I looked at Arcee in shock. "What?" I asked slowly, too shocked to say anything else.

The smile plastered on Arcee's faceplate grew wider. "Yup. Apparently Ratchet pulled Moonracer away from the med-bay and bluntly told her how he felt. They made it official when they announced to everyone they were courting, I've never seen Bulkhead's mouth open that far, and I heard the clank it made from the other side of the room." She said with a laugh.

I joined her in laughing for a few moments before Arcee continued speaking and describing how everyone reacted to Ratchet and Moonracer's announcement.

* * *

><p><strong>(Human calendar) November 8, 2012 8:47 P.M<strong>

**(Cybertronian date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since the end of the Golden Age)**

**Decepticon War Cruiser Nemesis, geosynchronous orbit over the Galapagos Islands**

Saying Megatron was angry would be the understatement of the centi-vorn. It would be more accurate to say Megatron was furious, but even that didn't fit Megatron's mood.

The former gladiator had spent the majority of the last four solar-cycles beating Starscream within an inch of his pathetic life for his failed attempt to snuff out his spark, an activity Megatron had taken great joy in.

But now, Megatron almost wished he had spent less time beating Starscream and more time fixing the mess Starscream had made of all of Megatron's fleet movements and side projects.

"That traitorous scrap pile shut down _Project:Overlord!_" Megatron yelled in his admittedly over-sized personal quarters. The sound of his yell more than likely carried through his door and into the hallway outside, causing several of his ground soldiers that were passing his quarters to quicken their pace to avoid their lord's wrath.

'As they should,' Megatron thought, he was in no mood to be disturbed by _anyone_, not even Soundwave, one of his most loyal and trusted followers.

Megatron looked at the data pad given to him by Soundwave earlier in the cycle, it contained a list of idiotic projects Starscream had started using the resources of _Project:Overlord_. One of them was particularly stupid, even by Starscream's standards.

The project dubbed _Harbinger_ by Starscream was where most of _Project:Overlord's_ resources had been redirected to.

_Project:Harbinger_ involved building a large number of neutrino-ion engines, relatively primitive technology in Megatron's opinion, on one side of the planet called Mars and sending the red planet crashing into Earth.

Megatron was far from impressed by this plan, while it would guarantee the destruction of the Autobots, Earth was far too rich in energon to simply destroy. And even though the humans had barely reached Tier 4 on the Cybertron Technological Achievement Tiers, Megatron knew they would have their uses when he conquered them, a fact that Starscream couldn't hope to grasp.

The Decepticon leader crushed the data pad in his servo, every single project Starscream had started from halting progress on _Project:Overlord_ was a total waste of time and resources. But it was far, far worse than simply redirecting _Overlord's_ resources to other projects, the pathetic excuse of a SIC that was Starscream had cannibalized entire sections of _Overlord_ to use the extra resources for his own foolish projects.

'That piece of slag has set back _Project:Overlord_ by jours, perhaps even orbital-cycles!' Megatron thought as he shook with rage. The only way to get _Overlord_ back on schedule was to put all other projects outside the Sol system on hold and redirect their resources to _Overlord_, something that Megatron would never do unless it was for an incredibly good reason. And _Project:Overlord_ was the key to the war, it didn't get any more important than that.

With a fierce growl and a mental note to beat Starscream again for this treachery, Megatron grabbed another data pad and started to write out the orders to redirect all resources to _Overlord_, he would send to every project leader outside the Sol system, and hopefully he could get_ Project:Overlord_ back on track.

**'Release me...'** The Voice whispered in Megatron's CPU.

'Get out of my helm,' Megatron thought back at The Voice, shaking his helm as he did so.

Ever since he had put a shard of Dark Energon into his spark, Megatron had been hearing a voice in the back of his processor. The Voice, as Megatron had been calling it since he first heard it, sounded beyond ancient. It was commanding, firm, and both infinitely intelligent and infinitely condescending, like The Voice felt like it was speaking to the lowest form of life possible.

Megatron would never admit it if his Decepticon army found out about The Voice, but every single time The Voice spoke, Megatron felt a chill go down his spine, it felt like Unicron himself was whispering into his audio receptor.

Megatron shook his helm again to be certain The Voice was gone and continued writing his orders to his project leaders, right now thinking about The Voice was just a distraction. And if he was going to make any progress on fixing the mess Starscream had made, he needed to start work immediately.

And he had a lot of work to do.

* * *

><p><strong>And so Megatron is hearing voices in his head, that explains a lot of things actually... He is insane after all.<strong>

**And yes, the Cybertron Technological Achievement Tiers is a to the Technological Achievement Tiers that the Forerunners created in the Halo series, so that idea clearly doesn't belong to me.  
><strong>

**Anyway, the whole thing with Shadowstreaker getting infected by the cybonic plague an idea that formed in my mind when a reviewer, anissa, asked if I could have it where Shadowstreaker has visions of episodes that Shadowstreaker had already lived through. So, that idea comes from anissa. And if you are still reading, anissa. I am sorry for taking so long to write your idea, and I am sorry I didn't write it very well, but I wanted your idea to make sense when I wrote it, so I am sorry for the long wait. And I hope you liked it.  
><strong>

**IMPORTANT NOTICE. As many of you likely know, FanFiction is cracking down and deleting stories with anything that describes sex, ANY description of violence, one-shots inspired by songs and several other things. And I know I am not the only one who thinks that is completely ridiculous. **

**I personally don't care very much about stories with sex getting removed, I know that sounds cold, but having stuff like that in stories is against my morals. I am just one person though, and since I find stories like that offensive I just don't read them. **

**But the fact they are deleting stories because they have violence in them in any form is absolutely unacceptable. For crying out loud, violence is basically in every single story on this site in some form, and almost every story that is multi-chaptered is violent. It is part of what makes those stories really good, if a story is set in a fandom that has a lot of action, how are you supposed to write a good story if violence isn't allowed? It doesn't make sense.  
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**Basically what I am saying is, writers should have the freedom to write their stories as they picture them, and not be censored because they have good imagination. So I implore you to please sign this petition to help stop this craziness. Here is the link.**

** www .change petitions/fanfiction-net-stop-the-destruction-of-fanfiction-net#**

**Now, back to what matters, music!  
><strong>

**This chapter's credit song is "Sencit Music - The Contest Begins" It really suits the whole theme of Megatron returning and taking back command of the Decepticons, especially the first minute and the last fifty seconds or so.  
><strong>

**So, please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.  
><strong>


	20. Springer is an Aft

**IT'S OVER 9,000! Hits... I'm sorry I couldn't resist saying that lol.  
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**Anyway, I managed to finish this chapter exactly one day earlier than my last one. It's not much of difference, but it's a start.  
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**So, I have come to realize something, I haven't really been thanking all you guys and gals for reviewing. So, thank you all for reviewing, this story is now over 50 reviews which is a lot more than I expected to get at this point in the story. Thank you all. :)  
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**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.  
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**Sailor Shinzo - I assume you are wondering how Shadowstreaker will react when he first encounters Megatron. And the answer to that is classified I'm afraid.  
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**Fox of Magic - So much for updating soon, huh? Sorry about that lol. I'm glad you're enjoying the story.  
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**Devil-O-Angel - Of course Megatron's insane, who infects their own planet with Dark Energon and expects something good to come out of it? Lol.  
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**jayna prime - I'm glad you enjoyed it, sis. :) It was fun to write. And how could I resist having Optimus say "Challenge accepted"? Lol. I miss talking too. :/ Though I can understand why we haven't, moving is a long process. Though I must ask, how was that chapter creaky? Hehe.  
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**Guest - Thank you, though, I am not certain what you mean. Do you mean Optimus' reaction to Megatron being online?  
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**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.  
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* * *

><p><strong><em>December 17, 2000 10:22 P.M<em>**

**_Northern Syracuse, Upstate New York_**

_"Sweetheart, you know you can't go into the parking lot by yourself." A woman called out to her son as he started to walk into the parking lot of the mall they had just left._

_The woman was tall at just a hair under six feet and her hair was long and fiery red in color. Her eyes were a royal cobalt blue and held the warmth and kindness of a caring mother and a truly happy woman._

_The woman's son stopped walking and turned to look up at his mother with sleepy looking eyes that were same color his mother's. "I know, I'm sorry Momma, I just want to get back home." The young boy said and then gave a yawn._

_The women smiled down at her son. "Tired after visiting Momma's friend and her son, Joshua?" The woman asked, transferring the shopping bag she carried to her other hand, that was carrying her purse, so she could hold her son's hand and walk into the parking lot._

_The young boy nodded, but said nothing, eyes drooping even as they walked toward their car on the far side of the parking lot._

_The woman sighed quietly. "Oh I'm sorry, sweetie. The mall was a lot more crowded than I thought it would be tonight and now we're not going to get home 'till past your bedtime. But you can sleep in the car, okay sweetheart?" The woman asked her son with an apologetic look._

_"Okay, Momma." Her son replied in a tired voice before his eyes widened in excitement as snowflakes started to fall from the sky above them._

_"Momma look! Snow!" The young boy cried excitedly, all fatigue gone from his eyes and voice as he looked at the snowflakes falling around them in wonder._

_The woman looked at her son with an amused smile, no matter how many times the boy saw snow, he was always excited._

_"Yes it is snow, sweetie. Maybe they'll be enough on the ground tomorrow for you and your big brothers to make some snowmen!" The woman said, smiling at the look of joy that instantly formed on her son's face._

_"Really? Would you build one with me too?" He asked, happiness filling his royal cobalt eyes._

_The woman laughed. "Of course, sweetheart. I'll make ten of them if you wanted to," she said as they finally approached their car._

_The woman immediately froze as a man walked out behind their car with an old-looking snub-nosed 38. Special in his hand._

_The man was roughly the same height as the women, perhaps slightly taller. He was wearing a pair of well-worn sneakers that looked like they were being held together with duct tape, and a pair jeans that at one point had likely been blue, but had since faded to an almost grey color. A plain white shirt covered his chest along with a dull green windbreaker. A large grey beard covered most of his face, leaving only his dark brown eyes as his most significant facial feature. The man was clearly homeless, and had been for a long time._

_The man raised his snub-nosed pistol at the woman with a shaky hand. "I-I'm real sorry about this, lady. B-but I need your car." The man said in a voice that was even more shaky than the hand that held his gun, his nerves, and possibly his conscience, were getting the better of him._

_The woman didn't flinch as the gun was aimed at her, she didn't even break eye contact with the man as she shielded her now terrified son by gently pulling him behind her. "What's your name?" She asked in calm, soothing voice that betrayed none of the fear she felt._

_The man so caught off guard by the unusual question that he took several long seconds to reply. "Bill," he finally said._

_The woman nodded. "It's nice to meet you, Bill." She said, causing the man to give her a flabbergasted look before she continued. "Now Bill, why are you doing this?" She asked, keeping her calm and soothing tone as she spoke._

_Bill grimaced. "I need money, I haven't had a job in years and I haven't had a real meal since last week. But I know some guys that will pay eight hundred dollars for a car, so I need yours. I'm so sorry." He said, voice genuinely apologetic and regretful._

_The woman gave him sympathetic look. "Bill, I don't have eight hundred dollars, but I can give you the money in my purse. I know it will be more than enough for you to get a few meals, perhaps even enough for you to spend a couple nights in a motel." She said, and then broke eye contact with Bill and slowly reached for the wallet in her purse._

_Bill tensed at her movement. "W-what are you doing?" He asked, voice shaky as he visibly became more nervous._

_The woman paused and looked at Bill calmly. "I am just getting my wallet out, I don't personally own a gun. And even if I did, I wouldn't use it in front of my son." She responded, and then continued reaching for her wallet at Bill's understanding nod._

_Just as the woman started to pull her wallet from her purse, the sudden echo of a police siren carried through the air and caused the nervous Bill to jump in surprise and look over his shoulder... And then accidentally pull the trigger._

_Due to the fact the woman was crouched down next to her purse, the round hit her at a strange angle. First it entered her rib cage and pierced her right lung before continuing on and passing through her stomach and finally stopping when it impacted her hip bone._

_The woman screamed in pain and immediately fell back onto the pavement, gasping her breath as she covered her gunshot wound with a hand both to help slow the bleeding, and to prevent her son from seeing all the blood leaking from the wound._

_The boy fell down on his knees next to his fatally injured mother. "Momma!" He yelled, face already wet with tears as he knelt next to her._

_Bill looked at the fallen woman and her distraught young son with horror etched on his face._

_"Hey!" Someone suddenly shouted._

_Bill looked up, a group of four men and two women had just exited the mall and were now sprinting up the parking lot toward him. Even from this distance, Bill could tell that at least two of the men had very short hair and seemed to be in much better shape than the others, they were likely off-duty soldiers from the local Air Force base._

_"Put the gun down you son of a bitch!" One of the Air Force men yelled._

_Bill took a few steps backward as the group continued to get closer. And with one last sorrowful look at the weeping boy, turned around and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, he quickly disappeared into the night._

_The boy looked up briefly as the man ran away before looking down at his mother as she spoke._

_"It's okay, sweetheart." She said in a voice that was even more calm and soothing than when she was speaking to Bill._

_Her son stopped crying long enough to respond. "No it's not okay!" He yelled, and then broke into sobs again._

_The woman reached up with the hand that wasn't covered in blood and wiped away a few of his tears. "Shhh... Don't cry, sweetie, don't cry it's all going to be alright." She continued wiping away his tears until he stopped crying again._

_Her son sniffed. "No it won't, you're hurt and I don't know how to help you." He said sadly with a trembling lip._

_The woman smiled at her son. "This is something that can't be helped, sweetheart."_

_"But the doctors can help you, can't they?" Her son asked, voice sounding panicked._

_The woman gave her son a regretful look. "No they can't, sweetie. I don't think I'm going to be here for much longer." She said in a sad tone, wincing in pain as she sucked in a breath and slowly let it back out._

_"I don't want you to go," her son said as tears started to fall from his eyes again._

_The woman smiled at her son again. "Oh my dear Zechariah, I don't want to leave either, but there isn't anything I can do to stay with you." The woman reached up and brushed the back of her hand against her son's cheek. "I want you to know, Zechariah. That even though Momma's going to leave, I love you so much. Momma loves you very..." Her eyes started to close on their own accord. "Much..." With that last word, the woman's eyes closed for the final time and her hand fell to the pavement, a single breath escaped her lips before she laid completely still, she was gone._

_Zechariah looked down at his now dead mother for a few moments. "Momma?" He asked quietly, as if he was trying to wake her up like he did in the morning._

_His mother didn't respond._

_"Momma?" Zechariah tried once more in a slightly louder voice._

_Again, there was no response from his mother._

_Tears formed his Zechariah's eyes as the snow continued falling around him. "Momma!" He wailed as the group of bystanders finally reached him._

_One of the men picked him up and handed him to a woman next to him. "Move him away from her and try and calm him down." He instructed calmly as he and the other woman in the group knelt next to the boy's mother and started CPR, while another man pulled out a cell phone and started to call paramedics._

_The first woman nodded and started to walk away while doing her best to comfort the weeping child._

_"Momma!" Zechariah yelled in despair one last time before the woman carrying him walked around a car to get him away from the sight of his dead mother._

_I watched everything with a stoic faceplate from where I sat on a car. This was a memory I had relived far too many times as a human, and being a Cybertronian didn't make it any less unpleasant._

_Mercifully, I onlined a few micro-klicks after the woman took my younger self behind the car._

* * *

><p><strong>November 10, 2012 5:18 A.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

I onlined and ran a servo over my faceplate as I sat up and got off of my berth.

It had technically been two solar-cycles since I had been cured from the cybonic plague. But since the first time I onlined after contracting the cybonic plague was late at night, it was closer to one solar-cycle than it was two.

Even though Ratchet and Moonracer said the cybonic plague had been completely purged from my systems, they still kept me in the med-bay for the majority of the following cycle to make sure I wasn't suffering from any side-effects from the plague.

I wasn't released until six breems ago, and the courting medics told me that they had found another virus embedded in the cybonic plague cure they got from Megatron. They said it wasn't a dangerous virus, but as far as they could tell. The embedded virus was designed to target the part of a Cybertronian's CPU that affected dreams, causing the Cybertronian infected with the virus to either have very vivid nightmares, or relive painful memories.

'What a sadistic bastard, even the cure Megatron created for the cybonic plague was designed to inflict pain.' I thought in disgust as I picked up one of my cubes from my desk and put it under the energon dispenser.

After I finished filling my cube, I quickly drank my energon, put the cube back on my desk, typed in the password for opening my door and left my quarters. I didn't want to spend time thinking about the death of my human mother, I had accepted her death long before I was a Cybertronian, there was no point in thinking about her death now.

Immediately after I stepped out into the hallway, I turned around and locked my door before heading to the elevator. Normally I would head straight for the washrack after I onlined for the cycle, but for some reason I felt like training down in the Safe before going to the washrack.

I reached the elevator and hit the button for the Safe and leaned against the back of the elevator as I waited to reach the massive training room.

After the short elevator ride ended, I walked into the Safe and proceeded to step in the armory to pick out a weapon that I could use.

The area for our new armory had been drilled out by S.T.F engineers in the wall in front of the shooting range. The armory was massive, at five hundred meters long and half as wide, our new armory was a third the length of the shooting range itself.

On the left side of the armory were the heavier weapons like Thermo Rocket Launchers, Magma Frag Launchers and a couple of Photon Grenade Rifles, which I had found out was the official name of the grenade launcher I test-fired the night of Wildwing's arrival. And finally, the left side of the armory was home to a slightly damaged Nucleon Shock Cannon that we recovered from the Decepticon mine.

The right side of the armory was where the lighter weapons were kept. Photon Burst Rifles, X-12 and X-18 Scrapmakers, Neutron Assault Rifles, Scatter-Blasters, EMP Shotguns, Energon Battle Pistols, Plasma Cannons and dozens upon dozens of crates filled with grenades and energy cells. Basically everything that didn't belong on the left side of the armory was put on the right side. Well, except for the melee weapons, which were at the back of the armory, but pretty much everything else was on the right side of the armory.

I stepped over to the right side of the armory and looked up and down the racks of various weapons as I thought about which weapon I was going to pick.

After about a klick of considering which weapon to bring to the range, I finally settled on a Neutron Assault Rifle and grabbed a crate of energy cells before I started walking back over to the shooting range.

Once I reached the shooting range, I set the ammo crate down, opened it and grabbed an energy cell, loaded the Neutron AR and adjusted it for my size before I took aim at one of the target drones and pulled the trigger.

I kept the trigger held down until the energy cell depleted two micro-klicks later and then lowered the rifle to see my grouping on the drone. About forty blackened marks were visible on the drone's chest area.

'An eighty percent hit rate, not bad considering it's over five hundred meters away,' I thought as I ejected the depleted energy cell and reached down to grab a fresh cell from the ammo crate, only to freeze at the sound of clapping from near the elevator.

I turned to look at the elevator and narrowed my optics slightly at the sight of Springer standing next to the elevator.

"Bravo! What incredible marksmanship, that target drone never stood a chance." Springer said in sarcastic and dry tone as he continued clapping in fake amazement.

I turned away from the green Triple-Changer and picked up an energy cell from the ammo crate. "What are you doing down here so early?" I asked in a slightly cold manner as I loaded the energy cell into the Neutron AR.

Springer stopped his fake clapping and I heard him step towards me. "To shoot things, what else would I do?" He replied as if that was glaringly obvious.

"I see." I said as I fired a three round burst at my target drone, hitting it twice in the chest area and once in the neck.

Springer appeared at my right and aimed his chaingun at a different target drone. A moment later, he fired a long burst from his chaingun that riddled his target drone with bullets of pure energy.

Springer and I didn't say anything for a long while, we just took shots at our respective targets and stood in silence, which was perfectly fine with me.

Out of all the bots I had met since I became a Cybertronian, Springer was the only one that I found myself getting legitimately angry with whenever I spoke to him for a prolonged period of time. And that saying something since I was usually a very patient and tolerant mech.

After roughly forty five klicks of silence, in which time I swapped my Neutron AR for a Photon Grenade Rifle, Springer was the one to finally break the silence.

"So..." He said slowly and left his sentence hanging as he fired burst from his chaingun.

"So," I repeated his short statement as I reloaded my Grenade Rifle.

"So, I have been... _Thinking_ about Arcee." He said in an insinuating tone and gave me a sideways glance.

My left optic twitched at Springer's tone, but the rest of my faceplate remained impassive. "Jetfire was correct in saying that your CPU is fragged up, Springer." I replied evenly, but I snapped the Grenade Rifle closed with a little more force than I needed to use when I finished loading it.

Springer seemed to have noticed this, but he didn't comment on it as he continued.

"I have been thinking about that little punch she gave me in particular," he said as he shifted his gaze away from me and stared at the shooting range in front of us.

"You deserved much worse than that," I said, not even attempting to lower my voice so he couldn't hear.

Springer ignored my words and added to his previous statement. "And our staring contest after she left, I now find that interesting." He said in a tone that led me to believe he was smiling for some reason.

"And why do you find that interesting?" I asked in a slightly cautious voice as I aimed my Grenade Rifle at my target drone and fired two shots, both of which hit the drone in the neck.

"Because, I recall only one other mech getting as angry at me for admiring Arcee's chassis as you do." Springer replied as I saw him turn toward me in my peripheral vision with a smug smile on his faceplate.

I looked away from my target drone and narrowed my optics at Springer. "And who was that?" I asked, forcing my voice to sound indifferent even though I was actually starting to panic, I had a bad feeling that I knew where Springer was going with this.

The smile on Springer's faceplate grew wider and, if possible, even more smug. "Tailgate. And since he was her courted..." He said as gave me a calculating look, as if he was gauging my response.

I stiffened as I immediately understood what Springer was doing, the son of a glitch knew about my crush on Arcee, and he was trying to get me to admit it.

I looked back at my target drone and fired the last three shots in the Grenade Rifle before I responded in a causal manner. "So you think because I get at angry at you for ogling Arcee that I like her in the way that Tailgate did? You're making assumptions, Springer."

'Unfortunately, they're correct assumptions.' I added to myself.

The smile on Springer's faceplate briefly faded away at my casual response, but he quickly shook his helm and his smile returned as he replied smugly. "Yes, yes I do think that. You wouldn't get that angry at me for hitting on Arcee unless you were interested in her."

"I don't like her in that way, Springer." I lied, doing the best I could to make my voice sound convincing. "We're just friends, good friends, but just friends nonetheless."

"That's a pile of slag." Springer said. "No matter how much you deny it, I know I'm right. You spend _way_ too much time with her for you not be interested in something other than friendship. You're obviously after a little piece of something else." The green Triple-Changer finished, and raised his optics up and down in a suggestive manner.

I gave Springer a glare for what he was implying. "Believe it or not, Springer, but not everyone has a CPU as fragged up as yours. I'm not interested in Arcee, and even if I was, I sure as hell wouldn't be interested in her just because of _that._" I said in a firm voice that made my disgust of Springer's suggestive statement clear.

Springer and I stared each other down for a moment before we both turned at the sound of the elevator arriving at the Safe.

A micro-klick after the elevator arrived, Arcee, Bumblebee and Bulkhead stepped out of the elevator with their charges following them.

Arcee looked over at me when the six of them entered the Safe. "Hey, Shadow'." She greeted warmly before she noticed Springer standing next to me. "Springer," she said in a cold tone as Bumblebee and Bulkhead also sent a greeting in the direction of Springer and I.

"Hello to you too, gorgeous." Springer said in a such a way that even though I couldn't see him, I knew he winked at her.

Arcee gave Springer a scowl before she walked over towards the sparring ring along with the others.

I turned back to Springer as Bulkhead and Bumblebee started to spar while Arcee and the Jack, Raf and Miko watched.

"Can't you speak to Arcee without sounding sleazy? Is that too much for your perverted CPU to manage?" I asked with an angry tone as I reloaded the Grenade Rifle again.

The smug smile returned to Springer's faceplate. "Awww, are you upset about your precious courted getting hit on?" He mocked.

I narrowed my optics at him while I continued loading the Grenade Rifle. "No, I am upset by how my _friend._" I said, putting emphasis on friend. "Is constantly getting hit on by a mech she wants no part of."

Springer's smile vanished and he looked at me for several micro-klicks before he looked in the direction of the sparring ring and a mischievous look entered his optic, as if he just got an idea.

"Well," he said and started to walk around me to go in the direction of everyone else. "If you aren't interested in her more than as a friend as you claim. Then you shouldn't mind if I go over there and try my luck. I mean it's not like I'll succeed, right? You said it yourself that she doesn't want any part of me. So what's the harm?" He asked in a devious tone and then walked toward Arcee before I could say anything.

I watched as the green Triple-Changer walked over to Arcee and stood next to her. "So who are you betting on?" I heard him ask as if they were good friends.

Arcee pointedly ignored him and continued watching the sparring match between Bulkhead and Bumblebee.

"Oh, that was a good move," Springer said as Bumblebee avoided a punch from Bulkhead by driving through the larger Bot's pedes.

"What do you want, Springer?" I heard Arcee ask coldly, not bothering to tear her gaze away from the sparring match to look at the green Triple-Changer.

Springer leaned away from Arcee as if he was surprised. "What makes you think I want anything from you? Why can't I just stand next to my friend?" He asked in a voice that sounded hurt, but I knew Springer was faking the hurt in his voice.

"We're not, and never will be, friends, Springer. And the only time you ever speak to me when not on a mission is to hit on me, so just get it over with so I can get on with my cycle." Arcee responded in an angry tone.

Springer dropped the act and threw a servo around Arcee's shoulder-joint and pulled her a little closer to him as if they were courted. "Do you want to get out of here? I mean, I just set up my berth and it needs to be test-" Arcee's elbow-joint slamming into Springer's tank cut off what was undoubtedly going to be the rudest thing the green Triple-Changer had ever said to Arcee.

Arcee didn't even look away from the sparring match -which more like Bulkhead and Bumblebee looking on in shock, mostly from what Springer was going to say- as she followed up her elbow by slipping her pede behind Springer's and taking the mech's pedes out from under him and sending him to the floor.

My secret crush looked down at Springer as he laid on his backplates. "There is no word to properly describe the level of filth to compare you to. And you are not worth the effort to create such a word." She said coldly enough to chill the room a few degrees and then walked toward the elevator, making sure to stomp on Springer's tank in the same place she elbowed him along the way. She soon reached the elevator and hit the control panel with a servo, and a micro-klick later, she was gone.

The moment Arcee elbowed Springer, I started giving Springer a glare that could have pierced a wall. I knew, with relative certainty, what Springer was going to say, and it would be a grave understatement to say that it infuriated me. Springer was just such a... He was so...

I shook my helm, Arcee had it right, there wasn't a word to properly describe Springer's behavior. And that behavior was causing my desire to punch him to spike more than it ever had before, I was an inch away from walking right up to Springer and punching his faceplate in, but no matter how much I wanted to do that, I wasn't going to let my anger control my actions.

So, instead of punching Springer's faceplate in, I aimed the Grenade Rifle at the target drone and imagined the drone was Springer. I fired two shots and hit the drone twice in the neck just before Bulkhead broke the short silence that followed Arcee's departure.

"Springer, even for you that was way too far." I heard him say with a disapproving tone.

Bumblebee then spoke in a voice that more angry than I had ever heard the yellow and black scout use before. _"Yeah, I mean I've seen you hit on Arcee before, but that was on a whole new level of sleaziness."_

"Oh please. Both of you are overreacting, that was no different than my usual attempts at seducing Arcee. It was just a little more blunt and a lot less subtle. Besides, you see that look she gave me? It's clear she wants me." Springer replied in a dismissive and smug tone as I heard him get up off the floor and, judging by the sound of metal brushing against metal, start to dust himself off.

'Must not offline him, must not offline him, must not offline him, must not offline him, must not offline him.' I thought as I rapidly fired the remaining four shots in the Grenade Rifle in an attempt to appease the white hot anger threatening to make me go over there and beat the smugness out of Springer.

"You're wrong, Springer. Arcee isn't, and never will be, interested in you." I said in a calm voice, which surprised me since I felt I was going to beat Springer into a pulp at any micro-klick.

Immediately after I spoke, I felt six pairs of eyes and optics look toward me.

"And how would you know that? Has Arcee said that herself? Or could it be that you're just saying that she's not interested in me so that I'll back off and you won't have any competition?" Springer asked smugly, likely thinking he had me backed into a corner.

'Wow he is stupid,' I thought with mild amusement despite how I was very close to punching to Springer in the faceplate.

I looked over at Springer, quickly taking note of how everyone else was looking curiously between Springer and I, clearly confused and perhaps interested by the green Triple-Changer's words.

"Arcee said it herself, Springer. I her exact words were, _'Springer, how many times will I have to tell you that I am not, and never will be, interested in you? Do yourself a favor and back off.'_ She said that right after we joined up in the Sahara." I explained calmly, and then snapped the Grenade Rifle open so I could reload it again.

Springer was silent for a micro-klick before he responded. "Arcee was just playing hard to get-"

"Springer," I interrupted and looked back at the green Triple-Changer. "You are literally _millions_ of times older than me, and you've been hitting on Arcee since back when the entire human race were living in caves. Do you honestly think that she's been playing hard to get that entire time? Accept the fact that Arcee hates you and get over yourself." I finished with an exasperated sigh and went back to loading the Grenade Rifle.

There was a long silence before Springer finally replied. "You're right, maybe Arcee isn't interested in me. I probably didn't have a shot with her in the first place anyway."

I looked at Springer out of the corner of my optic. Surprisingly, Springer was conceding to my argument without a fight, which for me immediately raised a red flag, but I decided not to comment on his lack of an argument.

"Good. Maybe you'll be able to do something productive with all your new spare time since you won't be using it to chase Arcee." I said as I finished loading the Grenade Rifle and aimed at the target drone again.

"Yeah, I guess it's a good thing I'm giving up on my chase of Arcee. I mean, even if I got together with her, I wouldn't last long since she would mess something up get me offlined just like Tailgate and Cliffjumper." Springer said in a causal, carefree tone, as if he was talking about the weather instead of unsubtly mocking Arcee's luck with previous courteds.

I tightened my servos so hard at Springer's insult that I warped the barrel of the Grenade Rifle. Springer's rude comments toward Arcee were one thing, and his sleazy attempts to hit on her were another. But Springer basically saying that it was Arcee's fault that Tailgate and Cliffjumper were offlined, something I knew Arcee blamed herself for even though it wasn't her fault, that just redefined the definition of scum.

'You've just crossed the line, Springer,' I thought in fury as I slowly set the now deformed Grenade Rifle on the divider between the shooting range and the rest of the Safe.

"What did you say, Springer?" I asked, voice deathly calm as I continued looking straight ahead at the target drone.

I could almost hear Springer giving a smug smile before he responded. "I said that I wouldn't last long if I got together with Arcee since she would mess something up and get me offlin-" That was as far as Springer got, because at that moment, I lost what self-control I had left and with speed that I didn't know I could achieve, I crossed the distance between Springer and I and hit him in the left optic... Hard. Springer immediately fell to the floor while covering his optic with a servo.

After a brief moment, Springer uncovered his optic, which now had a small spider web of cracks in it, and glared up at me. "Oh, it's on now!" He yelled and before I could react, he tackled me and sent us both back into the sparring ring, which caused Bulkhead and Bumblebee to leap out of the ring so they didn't get in our way.

Springer pinned me and punched me twice in the faceplate before I caught one of his punches and threw one of my own, Springer rolled off of me as my punch connected with the same optic I punched earlier.

I rolled away from Springer and got back on my pedes and into a fighting stance as quickly as I could, which was just in time to see Springer charge at me again.

Springer threw a flurry of punches when he reached me, I managed to block the majority of them, but he still landed a few hits to my tank and chestplates before I kicked out with my left pede and hit him in the tank, which forced him to backpedal.

Not wanting him to recover, I moved forward and threw a left jab at Springer's faceplate and followed it up with a right hook aimed at his side.

Springer blocked the punch directed at his faceplate and just took my other punch aimed at his side before he hit me in the faceplate with a left cross.

My helm snapped to the left when he hit me and I saw Springer's right servo flying towards my faceplate. I grabbed Springer's approaching fist before it made contact with me and sent my right elbow-joint crashing into the side of Springer's helm. While Springer was dazed, I spun and followed my elbow up with a spinning kick to Springer's tank, which caused him to slide backwards until he became tangled in the ropes along the sides of the ring.

As Springer started to untangle himself from the ropes, I felt something oozing from my lip. I wiped a servo across my mouth and looked at the back of my servo, it was wet with energon. Springer's last punch had busted my lip open, I was going to have to get that repaired later.

I looked away from the energon on my servo and back to Springer, the green Triple-Changer had finished untangling himself from the ropes and was now crouched slightly in a defensive fighting stance.

Deciding to change tactics, and finish this fight quickly, I let my servos fall to my sides in what appeared to be a relaxed pose. But that was the beauty of the martial art I just switched to, Krav Maga, it gave your opponent the illusion that you weren't prepared for any of their attacks, when in fact you were ready for anything they could dish out.

Springer fell for the relaxed combat stance of Krav Maga and quickly closed the distance between us and threw a left hook at my helm.

Just before Springer's fist impacted the side of my helm, I leaned back and dodged his punch. I grabbed Springer's wrist and twisted his servo at an uncomfortable angle before I slammed my elbow-joint into the elbow-joint of the servo I was twisting. There was a loud crack as several gears in Springer's servo snapped and a few smaller parts fell out of the now broken limb.

"FRAG!" Springer screamed in pain before he cradled his broken servo close to his chestplates and threw another hook with his other servo.

I deflected Springer's punch with an elbow-joint and countered with a jab followed by a cross.

The green Triple-Changer staggered back a few steps before he shook his helm and attempted to land another punch.

This time, I grabbed Springer's fist and pulled him towards me, I reared my helm back and slammed it into Springer's, having faith that my stronger armor would absorb the impact of the head-butt. My faith was not misplaced, though I immediately knew I was going to have one hell of a processor ache later, as my armor absorbed most of the impact of my head-butt.

Springer staggered back again with a noticeable dent in his helm, he appeared to be severely dazed and perhaps a little delirious since he wasn't even trying to fight back and had a blank look in his optics.

Now I could have left our fight at that, a confused Springer standing in the middle of the sparring ring with a broken servo and a large dent in his helm. But for the way he openly said that it was Arcee's fault that Cliffjumper and Tailgate were offlined, I wasn't going to let Springer get off that easy.

I kicked out with my left pede and aimed for a weak point that humans and Cybertronians shared, the knee-joint. My kick hit Springer's right pede and forced the limb backwards at an unnatural angle and the loud snap of pistons breaking soon followed.

Springer screamed in pain, but somehow was able to stay standing despite his broken pede.

I followed up my kick with a hard left hook at Springer's faceplate. Springer spit out energon as his pedes gave out on him and he fell down to his knee-joints.

With little extra force behind it, I spun around and hit Springer's faceplate with a roundhouse kick.

Springer's helm jerked to the side as my roundhouse kick connected. And after a few micro-klicks of Springer doing a surprisingly good imitation of a statue, he slowly fell forward and onto his faceplate and didn't move, the only indication he gave that he was still online was the occasional faint groan.

I looked at the heavily injured form of Springer for almost a klick before I turned and started to walk to the elevator, not even acknowledging the shocked, and slightly fearful, looks I was receiving from Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Jack, Raf and Miko.

"Remind me to _never_ piss Shadowstreaker off." I heard Miko whisper to Jack as I walked past the trio of humans.

"Only if you remind me not do that as well," Jack replied nervously.

"I second that," Raf added in a tone similar to Jack's.

I reached the elevator and hit the button for the ground level, a moment later, I was leaving the Safe.

A few micro-klicks later, the elevator arrived at ground level and I stepped out and made for the nearby med-bay so I could get my busted lip repaired.

The med-bay door opened as I approached and I saw Moonracer and Ratchet standing close to each other over by the workstation.

They both looked over at me when they heard the door open.

"What happened to your lip?" Moonracer asked as she stepped away from Ratchet and grabbed a small medical kit.

"Springer and I... Had a sparring match." I replied slowly, it wasn't a total lie, Springer and I had been fighting in the sparring ring after all. But we were trying to beat the scrap out of each other instead of having a friendly spar.

Moonracer seemed to catch on to the fact that I wasn't being totally truthful and she narrowed her optics at me slightly, but she didn't comment and then opened her medical kit and started to repair my busted lip.

"So, if Springer busted your lip open while you were sparring. Then I'm guessing that you lost that match, correct?" Ratchet asked as he crossed his servos over his chestplates and leaned against the workstation.

Before I could respond, I heard the med-bay door open and I turned around in time to see Bulkhead and Bumblebee carry Springer through the doorway.

"Hey, sire. Thanks for picking me up from the academy," Springer said to Bulkhead in an obviously delirious state as he was carried past Moonracer and I.

I watched Bulkhead and Bumblebee set Springer down on a medical berth before I gave Ratchet a dry look. "No, no I didn't lose." I said flatly.

Ratchet gave me a brief look before he shook his helm before he picked up another medical kit and walked over to Springer's berth.

After Ratchet walked over to Springer's berth, I turned back to Moonracer and let her continue repairing my busted lip.

* * *

><p>"You know this is a complete waste of energon, right?" I asked Prowl rhetorically, reaching over from the berth I was lying on and tapping the clear energy barrier keeping me in my cell for emphasis.<p>

Two breems had past since my fight with Springer. It had only taken Moonracer fifteen klicks to repair my busted lip. But almost as soon as she did, Prowl had entered the med-bay and instructed me to follow him to the brig.

When I asked Prowl why I was going to the brig, he explained that I was going to spend the next three solar-cycles in a containment cell as punishment for starting an unnecessary physical confrontation with a fellow Autobot. And, annoyingly, he had been right. I technically was the one who started the fight between Springer and I, and no matter how much Springer deserved to get his aft kicked, it was against the rules for any kind of fighting that wasn't for training purposes.

'At least I'm not in Springer's situation,' I thought to myself with a smug smile.

According to Ratchet, Springer had a cracked optic, eight broken gears in his left servo, four pistons that needed to be repaired and one that needed to be completely replaced in his right pede and a half dozen other less serious injuries. All in all, Springer was going to be stuck in the med-bay for three mega-cycles at the least, and a jour and a half at the most.

"The cold-plasma barrier prevents all forms of communication while keeping detainees from escaping. It is not a waste of energon." Prowl answered my rhetoric question in his usual stoic tone from where he sat at a desk across from my cell.

I rolled my optics at Prowl's deadpan. "That was a joke, Prowl." I said with a sigh, it was hard to try and create a joke when the only bot you currently had for company lacked a sense of humor or even knew when someone was joking.

Prowl looked at me for a moment. "I see," he replied simply and picked up one of several data pads -likely reports- on his desk and began reading it.

After Prowl picked up the data pad, we fell into a long silence until I heard the door leading to the hallway open.

I lifted my helm up from the berth and leaned towards the barrier so I could see who was entering the brig, it was Arcee.

"Hey Prowl." My secret crush greeted the stoic mech as she reached both Prowl's desk and my cell.

Prowl looked up from the data pad in his servo and acknowledged Arcee with a simple nod before he returned his attention back to the data pad.

Arcee turned and regarded me for a moment with an amused look in her optics. "Why is it that seems like every time we talk, you're either injured and lying on a medical berth or, in this case, being held in a containment cell?" She asked as she crossed her servos over her chestplates.

"Probably because I get injured all the time," I replied with a smile as I sat up and leaned against the back wall of my cell.

Arcee chuckled. "Probably." She was silent for a moment and seemed to gather her thoughts before she continued. "Look... I just came by to say thank you."

"Thank me for what?" I asked her with confusion lacing my voice.

"For what happened with Springer. Bulk' told me what Springer said, what you did to stop him from saying anything else, and I wanted to thank you for that." Arcee explained with a grateful look on her faceplate.

"You're welcome, but I don't think you don't need to thank me. With his attitude, it was inevitable that someone was going to beat the scrap out of him sooner or later, I just happened to be that someone." I replied with a shrug.

Arcee gave me a lopsided smile. "Maybe, but that isn't going to stop me from saying thank you." She said, looking away from me briefly as Prowl got up from his desk and walked out of the brig, most likely to go lecture someone for not writing a proper report.

"I didn't say you couldn't say thank you, I was saying that you didn't need to." I said as I rested my helm against the wall. "So, was there anything else you wanted to talk about?" I asked and then closed my optics to relax.

I didn't need to see Arcee to know that the smile had faded from her faceplate. "Unfortunately, I don't have the time right now. Jack is working a double shift at his job this cycle, and he starts in half a breem. So I have to go take him, sorry I'm cutting our conversation short." She said apologetically.

I shrugged without opening my optics. "Don't worry about it, we can just talk after you get back. I mean, it's not like I'm going anywhere." I said with a laugh.

Arcee joined me in my laughter for a moment before she sobered herself. "Talk to you later, Shadow'." She said as I heard her start walking away.

"I may or not talk back," I said dryly as I heard the door open.

Just before I heard the door close again, I heard Arcee howl with laughter, but it was cut off by the brig door closing.

I sighed with boredom after Arcee left. Since the cold-plasma barrier of my cell blocked all forms of communication, I couldn't comm-link anyone or get on the internet, I could already tell from the short amount of time I was in here that it was going to be a long three solar-cycles.

Several klicks after Arcee left, I started to feel really tired, which I found very strange since it was still in the morning and I had only been online for a few breems.

I had no time to wonder why I was tired before I fell into an unexpected recharge.

* * *

><p><strong>I can't lie, I thoroughly enjoyed having Springer get the living crap kicked out of him. There's just something satisfying about writing scenes where a sleazy jerk gets what's coming to him. But I hated writing the beginning of this chapter, I picture things very well, and that scene makes me sad. :**

**This chapter's credit song is "Epic Score - Crossing The Line" I couldn't find a song that suited the ending, so I has to settle for one that fits with the fight scene between Shadowstreaker and Springer.  
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**So, please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.  
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	21. Time for a Visit

**Well, Crystal Prime and I have finally finished our co-op chapter. :) ****Huh... I just realized I didn't mention last chapter that we were writing a co-op... Oh well, now you know haha.  
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**I'm sorry for taking so long in getting this posted, it wouldn't have taken so long if I didn't have a six day case of writer's block while it was my turn to work on our co-op. T.T But on the plus side, this chapter is over eleven thousand words, so it has that going for it. And also, since this is a co-op, Crystal gets just as much credit for this chapter as I do.  
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**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.  
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**Jaacs McHenry - It did take Shadow' a while to finally beat Springer to a pulp, didn't it? I guess it's a good thing that Shadow' beat him up and you didn't, I've heard that metal hurts when you punch it. Lol.  
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**Mikaela the Cat - I would too, though, I don't know how effective a stick would be against him. It's the thought that counts though haha. And yes, yes he is an afthead, I feel like I need to wash my hands after writing his comments at times. *Shakes hands*  
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**Crystal Prime - Since you reviewed six chapters, and I talk to you on a regular basis, I am just going to go with a 'thank you' and talk to you later. :)  
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**Anissa - I'm glad you liked how I wrote Shadow's visions of past episodes, since I assume that is what you're really happy about. Took me long enough to write that idea, huh? Haha.  
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**p folk - Yup! No more Springer for a while. And that's right, Prime family reunion. Plus one non-Prime lol.  
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**jayna prime - The beginning was sad, wasn't it? But the fight made all the sadness go away, I enjoyed writing that scene way too much. Lol. And you're welcome, it's about time to tone the sleazy jerk down a few notches. :)  
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**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.  
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* * *

><p><strong><em>Transcending Time<em>**

**_Pocket Universe_**

_The moment I fell into my recharge, I felt my parental bond with Solus open and I found myself standing in the Pocket Universe again. But I was in an unfamiliar area of the Pocket Universe, instead of standing in a desert like I had the last three times I had been here, I was surrounded by a thick forest._

_Looking down, I saw that the forest floor was covered in a mixture of grass, moss-covered rocks of varying sizes and dozens of different kinds of ferns and bushes, some of which had unusual-looking fruit hanging from their branches. I was momentarily confused by the presence of fruit in the Pocket Universe, but I just made a mental note to ask the Primes about that later and continued looking around my surroundings._

_The countless trees around me had few branches until the treetops, but that was a long way away since the trees were quite simply gigantic. Now, I had been to Sequoia National Park and seen the famous General Sherman, but compared to the trees around me, General Sherman looked like a sapling. The trunks of the trees were about three hundred feet in diameter on average, with some of the larger ones pushing one thousand feet, but it was the height of the trees that left me in awe. Each tree in sight was no less than a kilometer in height, and that was a conservative estimate as there were several trees that were clearly far beyond that height._

_The longer I looked at the immense trees, the more I felt like if they were in an actual universe, they would be more ancient than most civilizations. There was just something about them that seemed unbelievably old and mysterious, like they had front row seats to events that occurred before some stars even existed. I immediately liked them._

_I suddenly heard a twig snap behind me and I whipped my helm around to see what caused the noise... Only to gawk at what I saw. There... Standing in front of me as it ate the fruits on a branch... Was a dinosaur._

_The dinosaur was mostly green in color with splotches of brown, it also looked very similar to a Stegosaurus with its spiky tail, short forelimbs and the double row of plates along its back. But it was quite a bit smaller than a Stegosaurus as it was about twenty feet long and about eight feet in height and a Stegosaurus was at least ten feet longer and five feet taller._

_I concluded that the dinosaur in front of me wasn't a Stegosaurus, but a member of the same genus, the Stegosaurs. But I didn't know which Stegosaur it was since there were well over a dozen members in the Stegosaur family, and they all had a close resemblance to one another._

_My thoughts came to a screeching halt as a massive, two-legged theropod dinosaur seemed to come out of nowhere and completely ignored the bony plates the Stegosaur had on its back for defense and bit down on the Stegosaur's back. Its enormous jaws were large enough to completely encompass the middle of the Stegosaur's body, leaving only the Stegosaur's head, neck and tail exposed as it effortlessly lifted the smaller dinosaur in its mouth and stood to its full height._

_The Stegosaur cried out in distress and flailed the parts of its body that weren't in the massive carnivore's mouth, but the far larger dinosaur opened its mouth slightly and then slam it shut again with a sickening crunch, causing the Stegosaur to instantly fall silent and go limp._

_With its prey now very dead, the theropod adjusted the position of the dead Stegosaur in its mouth in a manner very similar to what I had seen crocodiles do with their meals. And once the theropod stopped adjusting the position of the dead Stegosaur in its mouth, it raised its head up to the point of nearly being vertical and swallowed the Stegosaur in one huge gulp._

_'It just swallowed a twenty foot Stegosaur like a piece of popcorn!' I thought in shock as I stared at the dinosaur._

_The theropod in front of me was grey-blue in color with a yellow underbelly, it was very similar to a Tyrannosaurus Rex in appearance, but there were small, bony protrusions covering its body and it looked to be more bulky and heavily built than a Tyrannosaurus. It was also far, far larger. The T-Rex-like dino was at least thirty feet tall at the hip and probably over one-hundred feet long. Its massive skull and jaws was around fifteen feet long and filled with dozens of teeth that were three or perhaps four feet long. The final difference between the dino in front of me and a Tyrannosaurus Rex was its arms. While a T-Rex's arms were short, stubby and had two claws, the arms of the theropod in front of me were three-clawed and more than large enough to reach its chin, leading me to believe it used its arms to drag prey that were too large for it to swallow to different locations._

_The enormous carnivore seemed to notice me staring at it and it looked back at me with what I could have sworn was an embarrassed look in its eyes. We stared at each other for several long moments before the carnivore opened its mouth... And let out a loud burp. The theropod stood there for another micro-klick and then walked away, shaking the ground slightly with each step. It soon disappeared behind the trunk of one the monstrous trees._

_I stared at where I had last seen the dinosaur for nearly a klick. I was completely dumbfounded, a theropod dinosaur at least twice as large as any carnivore in the fossil record just came out of nowhere, ate a Stegosaur I was looking at in one bite, burped at me and then walked away._

_'I guess I can cross that off the bucket list,' I thought in amusement as I started to focus on locating Solus through our bond, though for some reason our bond was slightly fainter than it had been when I was last here._

_Almost a full klick later, I finally managed to locate her, but she was very far away, which was probably why our bond felt a little faint, she was so far away in fact that it would probably take me several solar-cycles to walk there. So, instead of starting to walk in Solus' direction, I folded into my F-22 mode and started what would be a long journey up to the treetops._

_When I finally got above the tree line about five klicks later, I briefly took note of how clear the blue sky above me was before I accelerated in the direction of my carrier and left the sound barrier behind in a loud sonic boom and I continued accelerating until I reached my top speed of mach 6.8._

_It wasn't long before the forest came to an end, likely because I was speeding through the air at more than two kilometers a micro-klick, and the treetops below me changed to an immense savannah. But I couldn't make out any of the savannah's details because of the speed I was flying._

_After about twenty more klicks of flying, the clear skies of the savanna eventually faded away to a blanket of dark clouds floating over a sea of sand and rocks surrounded by cliffs. I was flying over the desert._

_Suddenly, I felt a flood of annoyance along with a bit of pain from Solus' side of our bond, and instead of feeling myself get closer to Solus, I felt myself getting further away. I must have flown over Solus... While doing mach 6.8, that would explain the annoyance and pain I felt from Solus since a sonic boom was loud enough to drown out even the loudest thunderstorm._

_I sent apologetic feelings to Solus through my end of the bond as I turned around and reduced my speed until I was back to flying at subsonic speeds._

_Not long after I reduced my speed, I saw Solus, Megatronus, Vector and, surprisingly, Shadebreaker sitting on different rocks at the base of a small cliff. All of them were holding at least one of their audio receptors and sending an annoyed look in my direction._

_I started hovering when I reached the four Primes. And after a brief moment, I changed into my true form and dropped to the desert floor, bending my knee-joints slightly as my pedes hit the ground to cushion my landing._

_I looked at the Primes, who still looked slightly annoyed, and rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly. "Sorry about that sonic boom," I said apologetically. "I didn't pay attention to where I was flying._

_Megatronus took in a breath and let it out in a loud sigh, causing his follow Primes and I to look at him. "Son... I are disappoint." He said in a voice filled with false sadness and disappointment._

_I narrowed my optics slightly at my sire, I knew right away that he wasn't in any way referring to the sonic boom I caused, his tone held a faint trace of his dry humor._

_"And why are you disappointed?" I asked cautiously._

_My sire then gave me a look as dry as the desert around us. "You have made no progress with Arcee since you were last here. That is unacceptable." He said with a shake of his helm, causing my carrier to roll her optics at her mate's antics and laugh._

_I was aware that Shadebreaker was laughing along with my carrier as I rolled my optics at Megatronus' words. "There is no progress to be made when only one of us has a crush on the other," I said stiffly as I folded my servos over my chestplates._

_Shadebreaker scoffed lightly and I saw her roll her optics out of my peripheral vision. "Are you sure about that?" She asked as she crossed her servos over her chestplates. "After all, I thought that my feelings for Ratch' were one-sided and I ended up being wrong, you could be wrong about how Arcee feels." She finished in a tone that led me to believe she was hinting at something._

_I turned and gave Shadebreaker a bland stare, she responded to my stare by giving me a grin that said she knew something I didn't. I was tempted to ask her what she meant, but I choose not to and instead commented on something else she said._

_"You and Ratchet finally realized your feelings for each other," I said._

_Shadebreaker's grin widened and she gave a single nod in response._

_"You see, son? If Shade' can get past obliviousness, then it should be no problem for you." Megatronus said, optics shining with mirth._

_Both Shadebreaker and my carrier laughed while Vector seemed to be holding in a chuckle as I glared daggers in Megatronus' direction, but it seemed that all my glare did was amuse my sire further since he just smiled in return._

_Thankfully, Vector changed the subject._

_"Okay, enough of that for now." He said to Megatronus in what I believe was supposed to be a reprimanding tone, but I could hear the amusement he was trying to keep out of his voice._

_"Fine," Megatronus grumbled in what was obviously a joking manner as he wrapped a servo around my carrier's shoulder-joints and then looked back at me. "So what took you so long to get here, son?" He asked._

_"Distance, I arrived in a forest somewhere in that direction," I replied and pointed a digit at the base of the cliff behind Shadebreaker. "I was flying at hypersonic speeds and it still took me more than twenty klicks to get here."_

_"Wait, there's more than just desert here?" Shadebreaker asked in surprise._

_I nodded. "Yeah, there's wildlife here too."_

_Shadebreaker perked up at my response. "Really? What kind of wildlife?" She asked with an excited glint in her optics._

_"Well, I saw some kind of Stegosaur for about a klick before it was eaten by what looked like a T-Rex on miracle grow." I said flatly, smiling slightly at the how Shadebreaker widened her optics in shock for a few moments before her optics returned to their normal size._

_Shadebreaker sighed. "Poor Stegosaur," she said in a quiet voice as her door-wings drooped in sadness. "Never stood a chance..." She bowed her helm and was silent for several moments, clearly in respect for the lost creature. "Can we go see the dinos?" She suddenly asked, door-wings perking up in excitement as she looked at her creator._

_Vector shook his helm and chuckled at his daughter's enthusiasm. "We were planning something else, but we can do that first. If the others don't mind that is." He said and then both he and Shadebreaker looked at my creators expectantly, with Shadebreaker looking noticeably more hopeful than her sire._

_"It couldn't hurt, we do have plenty of time." Solus said as she gave Shadebreaker a smile._

_Megatronus shrugged. "I don't mind at all," he said._

_"Yay!" Shadebreaker suddenly exclaimed as she started clapping her servos and jumping up and down in excitement. After a few micro-klicks, she seemed to realize what she was doing and immediately stopped and started rubbing the back of her helm sheepishly. "I mean..." She said quietly as I heard her cooling fans activate in embarrassment._

_Both my carrier and sire laughed at Shadebreaker's youngling moment while Vector and I simply chuckled at her antics. Shadebreaker pouted at my creators and I for a few moments before her sire patted her on the top of the helm._

_"It's alright, Little One," he said. "There is nothing wrong with being joyful."_

_"Yeah," I added. "Everyone is entitled to have a youngling moment every now and then, most just prefer not to." I finished with a small shrug._

_"Okay," Shadebreaker said quietly. And then added in a more subdued and controlled manner. "Does this mean we can see the dinos?"_

_"Yes it does," Vector said affectionately._

_I suddenly realized something. "I just thought of something, how are all of us going to get to where the dinosaurs are? I know you three can just teleport there," I gestured to my creators and Vector, which caused Shadebreaker to give her sire a curious look before he smiled and quietly said that he would explain later. "But Shadebreaker and I would have to use our vehicle modes. I wouldn't have much of a problem, you'd just have to sit and wait for twenty klicks or so for me to arrive. But it would take Shadebreaker breems to get there since she can only use a ground mode."_

_"Leave that to me," Vector said. "I am not the guardian of time and space for nothing." And with that, he held up a servo and opened up a blue portal next to him, the other side of the portal was clearly in a forest, but I couldn't make out many details._

_"That's cool," Shadebreaker said in a calm, almost uninterested voice, though her optics were shining with both amazement and excitement._

_After Shadebreaker spoke, the five of us stepped through the portal and exited out the other side in the middle of a dense forest, but I could tell the forest wasn't the same one I arrived in. The trees around us were much smaller than the ones in the other forest, though most of them were still at least twice as tall as the tallest trees I had seen on Earth, and instead of having a great resemblance to Giant Sequoias, they looked more like Evergreens._

_I looked over to my right and saw a large sauropod dinosaur eating the branches of one of the smaller Evergreen-like trees around us. The sauropod was bluish grey in color with several areas in its body that were brown. It was very large, I estimated its length at around eighty-five feet, though it was still about twenty or twenty five feet shorter than the Tyrannosaurus I had seen earlier. The sauopod's neck and tail were incredibly long and easily made up three quarters of the sauopod's total length. The head of the dinosaur in proportion to the rest of its body was tiny, but it was still larger than the head of most animals on Earth. Since one of my favorite things to read about before my human mother was killed were dinosaurs, I recognized the sauropod as an Apatosaurus, one of the more famous of the sauropod dinosaurs._

_"Wow," Shadebreaker said as she stepped up next to me and stared at the Apatosaurus in awe._

_Vector chuckled at his daughter's youngling-like wonder. "It is an amazing sight, isn't it?" He asked her. "I never get tired of seeing these magnificent creatures."_

_Shadebreaker didn't seem to pay attention to her sire and ran up to next to the Apatosaurus. "Hi dinosaur!" She said excitedly as she reached the giant animal and looked up at it in amazement._

_The Apatosaurus continued to chew on some branches as it turned its head and stared at Shadebreaker while she stared right back at it._

_"Now, what kind of dinosaur are you?" I head Shadebreaker muse to herself in a voice so quiet that I almost didn't hear her._

_"It is called an Apatosaurus," I informed Shadebreaker, causing her to look at me curiously. "It's one of the more famous sauropod dinosaurs."_

_Shadebreaker stared at me for a few moments before a soft roar drew her attention away from me, although the word 'roar' didn't do a very good job of describing the sound. Whatever the sound was, it sounded like a cross between the trumpet of an Elephant, the growl of a Water Buffalo and... Whatever the sound was that Hippos made._

_Looking away from Shadebreaker and to the legs of the Apatosaurus, where the sound originated, I saw a tiny version of the Apatosaurus staring up at Shadebreaker curiously. It was clear to me that the larger Apatosaurus was the baby's parent, though it was hard to tell whether it was its mother or father._

_"Awww, it's so cute!" Shadebreaker said ecstatically, it seemed that the sight of the baby Apatosaurus was enough for Shadebreaker to go into a mode secretly programmed into every mech and femme, mush mode._

_The baby Apatosaurus took a cautious step toward Shadebreaker after she spoke, and Shadebreaker in turn crouched slightly and held a servo out toward the baby dinosaur. The tiny dinosaur looked away from Shadebreaker and up at its parent for a moment before it looked back at the femme and continued moving forward a bit more bravely. When it was close enough, the baby stuck its neck out toward Shadebreaker and sniffed her outstretched servo. Very slowly, Shadebreaker reached out with her other servo and started to pet the baby Apatosaurus' head, it seemed to like the attention and moved a little closer to Shadebreaker so its neck wasn't stretched out._

_"It's so cute," Shadebreaker reiterated, albeit in a quieter and calmer tone than she used earlier, as she continued petting the head of the baby Apatosaurus with a look of joy painted on her faceplate._

_Shadebreaker jumped slightly when the larger Apatosaurus suddenly moved its head in between Shadebreaker and its offspring, Shadebreaker instantly retracted both of her servos and held them up in surrender as the large sauropod stared at her. The baby rubbed its head against its parent's and the parent returned the gesture before it looked back at Shadebreaker. And after it stared at her for a few more moments, the adult Apatosaurus leaned its head forward and gently nudged Shadebreaker with its muzzle, causing the optics of the white and purple femme to widen in surprise and then look over at us._

_"Ah... What do I do?" She asked, she didn't sound like she was afraid of the dinosaur, but was just so surprised by its action that her processor was drawing a blank._

_"Pet the mother like you pet the baby," Vector replied encouragingly._

_Shadebreaker looked back at what Vector had identified as the baby's mother and slowly reached up and put a servo on the mother's muzzle. The mother seemed to let out a contented sigh and closed her eyes a moment before she moved her head away from Shadebreaker and went back to eating the branches of the tree._

_"This is amazing," Shadebreaker said as she continued looking at the mother Apatosaurus, clearly in awe of the giant sauropod._

_I was about to make a comment, but I turned to look at the baby Apatosaurus as it started to walk over towards me. When it reached me, it looked up at me and made the strange noise it made earlier and tried to lean against my pede, only to go straight through it in a puff of black smoke that disappeared by the time it fell to the ground. The young Apatosaurus made the strange sound again as it picked itself up off the ground and poked its head into one side of my pede and out through the opposite side, much to Shadebreaker's amusement, who I had seen watching the whole spectacle out of my peripheral vision._

_"It looks like it's discovered it can't touch you," she said with a laugh._

_"Evidently," I replied, not looking up at the femme as I took a giant step away from the baby Apatosaurus._

_The baby dinosaur wasn't deterred though, and it stared at my pede as it started to walk around me, like it was trying to figure out if I was real or not. But after the baby Apatosaurus circled me a few times, it gave up on its quest to find out if I was real or not and started walking back to its mother._

_I looked away from the baby dinosaur and back up at Shadebreaker in time to see the mother Apatosaurus nudge her with its muzzle while holding a number of branches in its mouth. Once the mother had Shadebreaker's attention, she set the branches down at her pedes and motioned between the branches and Shadebreaker with her head, clearly it wanted her to eat._

_I laughed. "I don't think she knows Cybertronians can't eat anything organic," I said humorously._

_Shadebreaker laughed a little bit as well. "Apparently," she said to me before turning to the dinosaur. "Well, thanks for the offer, but I can't eat vegetation."_

_The mother Apatosaurus just made a noise in response and continued staring at Shadebreaker as its offspring walked over to the branches and started to eat the vegetation its mother offered to Shadebreaker._

_The white and purple femme smiled and gave mother Apatosaurus and its offspring another pat before she started walking over to rejoin the rest of us, only to stop mid stride and get a confused look on her faceplate._

_"Huh," she said after a brief moment. "I just made friends with dinosaurs..." She blinked several times before she smiled again. "Miko will never believe me."_

_"No, Miko will believe you, but she'll probably be mad that you didn't take pictures." I joked as Shadebreaker rejoined us._

_Shadebreaker chuckled. "You're right, Jack is the one that won't believe me when I say I made friends with dinosaurs."_

_The white and purple femme let out a cry of surprise as her sire suddenly pulled her into a side hug. "And I am so proud of you for doing that," he said and planted a kiss on the top of his creation's helm._

_"Sire!" Shadebreaker protested. "Not in front of the others!" She waved one servo around as she became embarrassed by her sire's action, which made my creators and I laugh lightly before Vector released his daughter from his side hug with a chuckle._

_"Well," Solus said after Vector let Shadebreaker go. "We should move on, there are several more dinosaurs to see before we leave."_

_"That reminds me," I said, looking over at Solus as we started to walk away from the mother Apatosaurus and its young. "Why are dinosaurs even in the Pocket Universe?"_

_I saw Shadebreaker looking at my carrier out of my peripheral vision, it was clear that she was curious to hear what Solus' answer as well._

_"Before the dinosaurs went extinct on Earth, we brought several hundred members of each species here, just like we do with every species of animal that is on the verge of extinction." Solus said._

_Shadebreaker tilted her helm in curiosity. "And why do you do that?" She asked._

_My carrier looked over at Shadebreaker. "Because all life is precious in its own unique way, and it is tragic whenever a species, sentient or otherwise, becomes extinct. By bringing different species of animals here, we can protect them from extinction in an environment we can control. And we also, occasionally, protect them from each other." She explained with a smile on her faceplate and feelings of happiness flooding through from her end of our bond, clearly she found great joy in performing the task she described._

_"And where was that protection when I saw that Stegosaur get swallowed like popcorn?" I asked humorously, causing Shadebreaker and Solus to laugh at my joke while Vector and my sire just chuckled._

_Solus clarified her earlier statement after she and Shadebreaker sobered themselves. "While we protect all the creatures in the Pocket Universe, the numerous carnivores here need to eat as well. But, we make sure that the herbivorous creatures outnumber the predators by a minimum of two hundred to one at any given time."_

_I gave my carrier a confused look. "The ratio of predators to prey on Earth is only about one carnivore to every nine herbivores, why is the ratio so different in the Pocket Universe?" I asked._

_Megatronus answered my question instead. "Because, some of the predators tend to... Eat more than others." He said as he gave me a meaningful sideways glance._

_"Ah," was all I said in response, immediately understanding what he meant, there were very large predators here, and they ate a lot._

_After we continued walking along in silence, we came to a large pond, though to a human it would have been a small lake, with a waterfall falling from a cliff on the opposite side of the pond from where we stood._

_I looked up and watched as a few abnormally large Dragonflies flew above the five of us before I noticed two groups of dinosaurs gathered on the left and right side of the pond._

_Looking over at the group on the right, I saw six adults and eight or nine of their young either walking on all fours on dry land, or standing on two legs and eating reeds out in the pond. At about thirty-five feet long and less than a third as tall, they were significantly smaller than the mother Apatosaurus, but they were still larger than any current land animal on Earth. Each adult had a surprisingly small mouth and a large skull about five and half feet long, with the last two and a half feet being taken up by a crest protruding from the back of the skull. I instantly recognized the dinosaurs as Parasaurolophus, the most unusually named dinosaur in the fossil record, in my opinion anyway._

_Over on the left side of the pond, there was a small herd of about a dozen adult Triceratops and just as many of their young either grazing on grass, or standing with their front legs in the pond and drinking water. But they looked different than any Triceratops that I read about as a human child. The adults were at least twice as large as a normal Triceratops, the smallest adult was about fifty feet long and half as tall while the largest member of the herd was about sixty-five feet long and, again, half as tall. But their unusual size wasn't the only thing I found to be odd about them. Their skin seemed to be almost armored and their skulls were even more bulky and heavily built than a normal Triceratops. And lastly, the two horns above their eyes were almost ten feet long instead of about three feet and the crests on their skulls changed color depending on what angle the sun hit them._

_"This is amazing," Shadebreaker said as she looked back and forth between the two groups of dinosaurs in wonder before she suddenly whipped her helm to the left and stared at something in shock._

_I followed her gaze and raised both my optic ridges in surprise as I saw a baby Parasaurolophus riding on the back one of the baby Triceratops-like dinosaurs as it walked over to the other Parasaurolophus, presumably to return the young one to the rest of its kind._

_"That's interesting..." I said, unconsciously using one of Captain Jack Sparrow's favorite phrases as Shadebreaker and I watched the pair of young dinosaurs walk past us._

_"What species are they?" Shadebreaker asked as she turned to look at me._

_"The ones in the water," I pointed a digit at the duck-billed dinosaurs, "Are called Parasaurolophus. And the other group appears to be Triceratops, but they're about twice as large and even more heavily built than a normal Triceratops, and their crests seem to change color when the sun hits them at different angles, kinda like your door-wings."_

_Shadebreaker nodded her helm as I told her what the dinosaurs were called. "Okay, thanks." She said to me with a smile and turned back to look at the dinosaurs._

_"Not a problem," I replied with a shrug and joined Shadebreaker in looking at the dinosaurs._

_We stayed at the pond for a few more klicks before we moved on. We saw a number of small dinosaurs as we walked through the forest, though I only recognized a few of them. And on occasion, we saw several different kinds of Pterosaurs flying in between the trees, but I didn't recognize any of them._

_About ten klicks after we left the pond, a small two-legged theropod dinosaur that I recognized as an Oviraptor suddenly ran out from behind a tree and raced across our path as it carried an egg so large that it was using its neck to help keep it in its tiny arms. It quickly disappeared behind another tree._

_"What was that?" Shadebreaker asked curiously as she looked at the spot where we last saw the Oviraptor._

_Before I could respond, an audio receptor shattering roar pieced the air from the direction the Oviraptor had been running from. And a moment later, another T-Rex-like dinosaur similar to the one I saw earlier burst through the tree-line and let out another roar that made us cover our audio receptors before it started running in the direction that the Oviraptor went with the egg. Its steps shook the ground so much as it ran that Shadebreaker lost her balance and fell on her servos and knee-joints. The T-Rex-like dinosaur soon disappeared behind the same tree as the Oviraptor._

_I looked over at Shadebreaker as her sire walked over and offered her a servo up. "Well, the first dinosaur that came out was called an Oviraptor, human paleontologists believed it would steal the eggs of other dinosaurs for its food, they apparently were correct. As for the second dinosaur... I have no idea what it's called, all I know is that it's really freaking big." I said, briefly looking back to where the Oviraptor and the T-Rex-like dinosaur went as I faintly heard another roar before glancing back at Shadebreaker._

_"I noticed!" Shadebreaker responded as Vector pulled up back onto her pedes, fear, excitement and amazement mixing together in her voice. "That thing was bigger than the mother Apatosaurus!"_

_"Indeed it was," Vector said. "We haven't properly named that species of dinosaur, but we refer to them as Behemoths because of their size and apex predator status."_

_I nodded. "That does seem to suit them," I said as we started to walk._

_We were mostly silence as walked through the forest after that, only making occasional comments about certain dinosaurs we saw on the ground or certain Pterodactyls we saw flying above us._

_Eventually, we came to a vast desert filled with white sand dunes that towered over the trees around us. As we walked out of the forest, I was slightly surprised by how abruptly the forest ended, and the desert began. The forest was literally only a few steps away and all the vegetation had already been replaced by hot, white sand._

_I was brought out of my thoughts by Shadebreaker. "Uh... What's that?" She asked._

_I looked over at her and saw that she was staring at a certain part of the desert. I followed her gaze, and immediately joined Shadebreaker in staring when I saw what she was looking at._

_Jumping in and out of the sand dunes was a creature that faintly resembled a massive armored worm. Even from where we stood at least four kilometers away, I knew the creature was at least one-hundred and forty feet long when it was out of the sand dunes, and it was clearly only about a third of the creature's length since I never saw the other end of it. The creature had two vertical slits for eyes that were facing forward like a predator's eyes should. And it had one massive mandible on either side of its huge head, clearly meant to help drag its prey into its enormous mouth. I realized I was staring at a Thresher Maw from the Mass Effect series._

_"That... Is a Thresher Maw..." I finally responded to Shadebreaker's question. I didn't even look over at the white and purple femme as I continued to stare at the massive predator with a blank faceplate, which my carrier found to be very amusing judging by the feelings I was getting from her side of the bond._

_"Oh," Shadebreaker replied as if she knew what that was, but I knew she didn't have a clue. And sure enough, she soon added, "What's a Thresher Maw?"_

_"Thresher Maws are titanically large subterranean carnivores that spend their entire lives eating, or searching for something to eat. They are from a video game called Mass Effect. At least, they were in a video game when I was back in my original reality, clearly not the case now." I explained as the Thresher Maw jumped one more time before it went behind a sand dune and disappeared from sight._

_"What does something that big even eat?" Shadebreaker asked, sounding more like she was musing to herself than actually asking a question to anyone._

_I answered her question anyway. "Anything it feels like eating," I joked with a small smile, causing Shadebreaker, Solus and Vector to give a brief laugh before my sire spoke._

_"Well, we should probably get back. There's something else we wanted to show you two." He said with a mischievous glint in his optics._

_"And that would be?" I asked my sire as I narrowed my optics in fake suspicion and distrust._

_"Now that would be telling," Megatronus responded with an innocent smile plastered on his faceplate._

_I raised one of my optic ridges. "Thank you, Captain Obvious. We would be so lost without you." I said sarcastically._

_Megatronus ignored my sarcasm and nodded his helm. "I know you would be lost, I know." He said, continuing our good-natured banter._

_I was about to say something else, but instead turned my helm at the sound of Vector opening up another blue portal, Shadebreaker's near-hysterical laughter and my carrier's loud sigh and face-palm._

_"The two most important mechs on my life... Behaving like younglings," Solus said, shaking her helm in a disappointed manner as she turned to walk through the portal, but the emotions I was getting from her side of the bond gave away her amusement._

_"It's his fault!" Megatronus joked in an imitation of a youngling pouting and pointed a digit at me._

_Seeing that this was going to go on for a long time if I kept replying to my sire's jokes, I just rolled my optics at his antics and walked through the portal after my carrier. I was followed closely by Megatronus, and he in turn was closely followed by Shadebreaker and her sire._

_After we had all walked through the portal, Vector closed it and a brief moment of silence descended on us before Shadebreaker spoke._

_"So, can you tell us what you wanted to show us?" She asked her sire, and then added with puppy-dog optics. "Pleeeeease?"_

_Vector simply smiled at his daughter, and suddenly, the scenery around us changed from a desert to a city completely out of silver and gold metal._

_I recognized the city from War For Cybertron, it was Iacon, the capital city of Cybertron, but it wasn't any place I had been to when I played the game._

_Every single building around us absolutely dwarfed anything I had seen on Earth, artificial or otherwise._

_When I looked up at the massive buildings, I could see roadways twisted through the gaps between the buildings with Cybertronians in alt modes speeding through them._

_Beyond the roadways, and even beyond the distant tops of the buildings, I could make out a number of seekers flying above the city in their jet forms. I also could just barely see something moving beyond the seekers, but it was too far away for me to make out any details. But whatever it was, it was monumentally huge, my best guess was that it was either a space station, or a really big ship, I was leaning towards space station._

_Looking away from the tops of buildings and back down at our level, I saw mechs and femmes of various sizes and colors milling about. Some of them were entering or exiting buildings by themselves, while others were in groups of five or six and talking and laughing with each other in Cybertronian. There were even some younglings running in between the pedes of the older bots, they were laughing and shouting to each other in Cybertronian in what seemed to be a game of tag. And every so often, a Cybertronian in an alt mode would pass by, easily avoiding the bots milling about._

_One thing I noticed about Cybertronian alt modes was how different they were. No two alt modes were the same, some were curved and artistic, others were made more for efficiency more than looks. Some alt modes hovered, others had wheels, there were even a few that had treads. I now had a better understanding of why Autobots and Decepticons took alt modes based on Earth vehicles, they would have stuck out more than a black sheep if they kept their Cybertronian alt modes._

_I looked off to our left and noticed that there was a large gap between a nearby building and the ground we were standing on. I walked over to the gap and looked down. I immediately found out that we weren't actually standing on the ground._

_As I looked through the gap, I saw another level below us that was nearly identical to the one we were standing on, and another level beyond that, and another, and another. I could see dozens if not hundreds of levels and roadways crisscrossing below me. And far, far beyond the last level within my sight, I could see a blue light emanating from an unknown source._

_"Quite a sight isn't it?" My sire asked me as he and Solus walked up next to me and joined me in looking down at what I presumed was the Core of Cybertron._

_"Is that what I think it is?" I answered with a question, briefly looking off to my left as Shadebreaker and her sire walked up to the gap and looked down as well. It seemed that they were having a similar conversation as my creators and I, though I couldn't hear what they were saying due to all the bots passing us by._

_"If you are asking whether or not we are looking down at the outer shell of the Core of Cybertron, then the answer is yes." My carrier said with a smile._

_I nodded but said nothing as I continued looking down at the Core of Cybertron's outer shell in awe. I suddenly became of how far away the Core was. I wasn't afraid of falling of course, I could have simply flown away if I was actually on Cybertron, but I was curious to know just how far it was to the Core._

_"How far away is it from here?" I asked a few micro-klicks after Solus responded to my last question._

_"From the outer shell to where we stand, it is approximately one-hundred and ninety-three thousand kilometers, give or take a few hundred kilometers." Megatronus replied._

_I let out a loud whistle at that piece of information. That would make Cybertron more than twice as the size of Jupiter, closer to three times the size in fact. "How many bots lived here?" I asked, continuing my bombardment of questions as I looked away from Cybertron's Core and glanced at the mechs and femmes milling about._

_"At the peak of the Golden Age, more than eighteen trillion bots called Cybertron home." My carrier answered casually._

_My optics widened and I looked over at Solus with a slack jaw, much to her amusement as she almost immediately stifled a laugh, both through our bond and out loud, as I looked at her._

_I tried to ask a question, but I found myself too shocked to form words. So, I just settled for looking at my carrier in shock._

_After I hadn't spoken for a good twenty micro-klicks, Megatronus raised one of his optic ridges. "Are you malfunctioning?" He asked dryly, causing my carrier to give a brief laugh._

_I shook my helm to wipe off the shocked look on my faceplate off. "No, I was just shocked by finding out that more than eighteen trillion bots once lived here ," I said and gestured to the city around us. "It's hard to get my CPU around that."_

_Solus nodded. "Showing you and Shadebreaker that our race was once numerous was one reason why we brought you here," she said, smiling slightly as a pair of younglings, a mechling and a femmling, ran past us. "But it is not the main reason we brought you here." She finished cryptically, and without another word, both she and Megatronus started walking into the crowd of Cybertronians._

_I gave my creators a confused look as they walked away. "What was the main reason?" I asked._

_She turned around and gave me a smile. "Sight-seeing," she answered simply and continued walking away as Vector and Shadebreaker joined Megatronus and her._

_Not wanting to be left behind, I started after them and soon reached the four of them._

_"So, what are we going to see?" I asked no one in particular once I had caught up with the Primes._

_"We are going to the Decagon, it's the control center for planetary security and defense." Vector replied._

_"Wait, I thought we were going sight-seeing, why are we going to see a military base?" Shadebreaker asked, tilting her helm at her sire in confusion._

_Having seen what the Decagon looked like when I played War For Cybertron, I looked over at Shadebreaker and smiled. "Because Cybertronian military bases are very different from human ones," I said vaguely._

_Shadebreaker shifted her confused gaze at me and seemed to be waiting for me to continue, but when I did not, she rolled her optics at my unclear statement and turned her attention to the buildings around us._

_Both Shadebreaker and I didn't speak very much after that, only making an occasional observation about a few different buildings that caught our optics, but beyond that, we were completely silent._

_Our creators were a different story, they would point at the massive structures around us and talk to each other about how they remembered when that building was in its planning stages with a nostalgic look in their optics. It was clear that they were enjoying looking at Cybertron just as much as Shadebreaker and I. But, I could feel sadness from Solus' side of the bond, she wanted to see her home world again, and not through a hologram, but to actually stand on its surface again._

_I put my gawking at the nearby buildings on hold for a moment and sent comforting feelings through my side of our bond, the sadness I felt from Solus disappeared as she sent feelings of gratefulness and love back to me. With my carrier's sadness now gone, I sent the latter emotion Solus sent me back to her and once again started looking at the buildings around us._

_We continued walking for another half breem before Solus, Megatronus and Vector came to an abrupt hault. And since Shadebreaker and I were still looking at our surroundings, we didn't notice that our creators had stopped until Shadebreaker walked into the backplates of her sire, and I stepped straight through mine._

_When I accidentally walked through my sire, I looked back and noticed that everyone was looking up at something ahead of us._

_I followed their gaze and widened my optics in awe, because standing in front of us, was the Decagon._

_War For Cybertron didn't do the Decagon justice. The gigantic fortress was no less than a hundred kilometers tall, making the buildings near it look small, and considering how large those buildings were to begin with, that was saying a lot._

_At the top of the Decagon, there were five pillars that were constantly moving in several different directions in such a way that it made them appear to have CPUs of their own. Above the pillars, there were two sections of the Decagon that floated over the main structure. The first section had smaller versions of the pillars it floated above, and the second section was spinning over the first and seemed to be changing its very shape every couple of micro-klicks. All in all, the Decagon was breath-taking._

_"Whoa," Shadebreaker said, bringing me out of my stupor. "You weren't kidding when you said Cybertronian military bases were very different from human ones, were ya?"_

_I looked back at Shadebreaker. "No, though to be honest, I am surprised by the Decagon's appearance." I said as I turned my gaze away from Shadebreaker and went back to looking at the Decagon._

_I felt rather than saw Shadebreaker give me an inquisitive look. "It seemed like you already knew what the Decagon looked like when you found out we were coming here." She said. "But now you're surprised by its appearance? How does that work?"_

_"A video game can only do so much to give you an idea of what something looks like, and the video game I played that had the Decagon in it doesn't do the real one any justice." I replied with a shrug and turned away from the Decagon again._

_"I have to agree with you there, the Decagon is breath taking." Shadebreaker said as she looked back up at the fortress with amazement in her optics._

_"That is what Megatronus and I were going for when we designed it," my carrier told Shadebreaker with a smile._

_"Wait," I said. "You two," I pointed my middle and index digits at my creators. "Designed the Decagon?" I asked in surprise._

_Vector chuckled. "They did. In fact, there are few structures on Cybertron that we didn't have a servo in helping to create." He said with a bit of pride in his voice, clearly referring to all of the Thirteen and not just the three currently present members._

_"Really? Are there any more that are as breath-taking as the Decagon?" Shadebreaker asked her sire in an excited tone._

_Vector smiled down at his creation. "Not as physically large, no. But, there is one other place we created that in some ways is even more magnificent than the Decagon, and it is a place that I am certain you will enjoy, my Little One." He said with an affectionate smile and started to walk in a different direction than we arrived._

_"Oooh," Shadebreaker said as she walked after Vector, her sire's words obviously grabbing her attention. "What place is it?"_

_Vector gave her another smile. "It is the Hall of Records," he said simply._

_Shadebreaker took a sharp breath. "We're going to the Hall of Records?" She asked, the tone in her voice led me to believe that she was on the verge of going into another youngling-like moment._

_"Yes," Vector replied._

_"Yay!" Shadebreaker yelled happily as she repeated her excited clapping and jumping from when she found out we were going to see the dinosaurs. After a micro-klick, she again realized what she was doing and stopped. "Not again..." She said quietly as she covered her faceplate with her servos in embarrassment._

_Vector, my creators and I laughed at how Shadebreaker repeated the same youngling-like action she had earlier, and I was about to make a comment when a bot we were about to walked past caught my optic._

_I turned my helm to look at the bot, and promptly double-taked at the sight of Arcee sitting on a bench._

_But after I looked at her for a brief moment, I quickly realized it wasn't Arcee. The femme sitting at the bench was darker blue in color and she lacked the same wing-like appendages on her backplates. But other than that, she looked exactly like my secret crush. She was the same height, she had the same angelic faceplate, complete with the smile that could make my spark flutter, she had the same pink highlights on her wrists, pedes and the top and sides of her helm. And she had the same azure blue optics that held the look of a battle-hardened, yet still caring and slightly mischievous, warrior in them._

_I continued staring at the Arcee look-alike for a few micro-klicks before a shouted greeting drew her attention, as well as my own, off to her right. And once again, I double-taked. Walking towards the Arcee look-like... Was me. But just like how the Arcee look-like looked slightly different than the real femme, my look-alike looked different than I did._

_My look-alike was about forty feet tall, making him two feet shorter than my sire and five feet shorter than me. My look-alike's armor was also light grey in color instead of jet black like my armor, and he also didn't have a silver mark on the sides of his helm like I did. And he seemed to only have a ground-based alt mode since he only had wheels on his pedes and lacked my wings. But other than that, we looked identical._

_My look-alike reached Arcee's look-alike and they both uttered a short greeting, which I couldn't hear, before they both leaned forward and pressed their lips together in a quick kiss and started walking in the direction the four Primes and I had come from._

_I stared after the look-alikes of Arcee and I for several micro-klicks as they walked away with their servos intertwined before a flood of amusement came from my carrier's side of our bond and the sounds of several bots howling with laughter filled my audio receptors._

_I turned around and saw that Vector was snickering while my carrier was doubled over and my sire leaned heavily against his staff to keep himself from falling over from laughing too hard. The only one of the Primes that wasn't laughing was Shadebreaker, who was just standing there with an innocent look on her faceplate._

_"What did you say that caused this?" I asked the white and purple femme, gesturing to my nearly hysterical creators and the snickering Vector._

_Shadebreaker smiled. "I said that even the holographic versions of you and Arcee are together, so maybe you should take the hint and make your move!" She replied happily, causing my creators to laugh a bit harder before they finally managed to sober themselves._

_For some reason, that comment frustrated me, I couldn't place the reason for my frustration, it was just there. So, for her teasing comment, I sent a half-glare in Shadebreaker's direction. She just continued smiling at me, though it seemed that my half-glare intimidated her judging by how her door-wings twitched backwards slightly. After a moment, my sudden frustration left me and I sighed and shook my helm._

_"I will not make a move when she doesn't have feelings for me," I replied to Shadebreaker's statement as I rejoined the four Primes and we resumed our walk to the Hall of Records._

_"You don't know what you're missing," Shadebreaker said to me in a teasing, sing-song voice as she started to walk next to me._

_"Now you don't know that for certain, son." Megatronus added, grinning at me as he crossed his servos over his chestplates. "Stop being so stubborn and make your move with Arcee."_

_"We all know you liiiike her already," Shadebreaker said cheekily. "It's only a matter of time before she figures it out on her own anyway."_

_I rolled my optics at my sire and Shadebreaker's teasing of my crush on Arcee, which seemed Solus found to be hilarious since she had been chuckling since we started walking again._

_"Maybe that's a good thing. Then she can turn me down and I can get over my stupid crush." I said in an irritated voice, hoping my tone would discourage Shadebreaker and my sire from teasing me any further._

_I raised an optic ridge at how Shadebreaker face-palmed and shook her helm, it sounded like she was muttering something about 'stubborn mechs' under her breath, but I didn't know for sure._

_"Why are you so certain she'd turn you down if you told her?" Vector suddenly asked, raising an optic ridge at me in slight curiosity._

_"Because she's a warrior that's been fighting since long before the human race had even developed writing, and I am a human turned into a Cybertronian that isn't even a quarter of a vorn old. How could she have an interest in me?" I asked rhetorically, taking note of how Shadebreaker got a thoughtful look on her faceplate before I continued. "Besides, I don't want to ruin our friendship over a stupid crush. So I plan on keeping it to myself as much as possible."_

_There was a brief moment of silence before Megatronus scoffed lightly at my words._

_"Why can't you just admit that you love her?" He asked in an exasperated tone. "All the signs are there."_

_I almost glitched right then and there at Megatronus' words. He just blatantly said that I was in love with Arcee, but I wasn't... Was I? I know that my crush has lasted for a long time, but that didn't mean I was in love with Arcee... Did it? I mean, I just met Arcee in both human and Cybertron terms, that would be insane if I was in love with her just nine jours after I first met her._

_'Would it?' My own CPU seemed to whisper to me as I continued to ponder over what Megatronus just said._

_"He probably just feels awkward after basically seeing himself kiss Arcee," Shadebreaker said to Megatronus, pulling me from my thoughts and causing me refocus on those around me. Then, Shadebreaker mused to herself in a voice so quiet that I doubt I would have heard her if I was standing just a few feet further away. "Though, probably not as awkward as when he saw Arcee in the washracks..."_

_My thoughts about my feelings for Arcee were temporarily put aside as my cooling fans kicked in quietly and I gave Shadebreaker a full glare, causing her to flinch before I spoke._

_"How do you know about that?" I asked in a tone that was a little more harsh than I intended as I shifted my glare to Vector and my creators, who were all either smiling or chuckling at my reaction despite the glare I was sending them._

_"Well," Shadebreaker responded, drawing out the short word. "They said they showed you portions of my life. So, they thought it would only be fair if I saw some from yours." She paused a moment and her door-wings drooped slightly. "You're not mad, are you?"_

_I gave Shadebreaker a blank look for a moment before I sighed. "No, no I'm not mad." I said._

_Shadebreaker's faceplate brightened and her door-wings perked up. "Good! Because you're scary when you're mad." She said._

_My left optic twitched as Shadebreaker's words caused me to briefly think about the reason for the last time I lost my temper, Springer, particularly his last comment to Arcee before she elbowed him in the tank._

_"They showed you my fight with Springer," I said matter-of-factly as I, out of habit, moved to avoid a Cybertronian walking past me._

_The white and purple femme nodded. "Yup, he totally deserved that by the way," she said. "Especially for his sleazy comments," she added with a bit of anger creeping into her voice._

_"What else did they show you?" I asked curiously._

_"Oh!" Shadebreaker said and then happily recounted what our creators had shown her about me as we walked towards the Hall of Records. She covered everything they apparently had shown her, sometimes in what was perhaps a little too much detail, which was slightly unnerving since she was describing events in my own life. But since I could recount events in her life as well, it wasn't as unnerving as it could have been._

_After she had finished explaining what Vector, Solus and Megatronus had shown her, it seemed like she was going to add something she forgot to say during her explanation, but her sire stopped her from doing so with a look that was both amused and reprimanding. After Shadebreaker looked at her sire for a few moments, she sighed and let whatever she was going to say go._

_I was curious to know what she wanted to say, but I choose not to ask her about it and just looked at the buildings we walked past on our way to the Hall of Records in an effort to keep myself from thinking about what Megatronus said earlier._

_It didn't work._

_I couldn't keep myself from wondering if Megatronus was right. What if my crush on Arcee is something more? What if I've been misreading what my spark has been telling me since June? What if I actually loved her? If I did love her, what then? Pull her aside once I get out of the brig and finally tell her how I felt? Or just keep ignoring what my spark was telling me and hope my feelings will disappear with time?_

_I shook my helm to get my thoughts under control and forced myself to think about something else as we continued walking to the Hall of Records._

_It was nearly a breem after I forced myself to think of things other than my feelings for Arcee that we finally came to a stop, though this time, Shadebreaker and I didn't have to walk through the backplates of out sires to realize that we had stopped. When we did come to a stop, I found that we were standing in front of a building that was clearly the Hall of Records. It wasn't any taller than most of the ones we had seen, but it was far, far wider. It was made out of a golden-hued alloy and had the same curving architectural style as the rest of the city. But, it seemed that each angle was designed with more care than most of the buildings, like they wanted to make the Hall of Records particularly appealing to the optics._

_"So, are we going to go in?" Shadebreaker asked, voice filled with excitement as she looked up at the Hall of Records in awe._

_Vector chuckled at his daughter and gave her an amused look. "I'm afraid we can't do that, you'll never want to leave." He said in a humor-filled voice._

_"That is true," Shadebreaker responded absently as she continued to stare at the Hall of Records. "But it's just so cool..."_

_I raised an optic ridge at the mesmerized look on Shadebreaker's faceplate. "What has you so amazed?" I asked. "I get the feeling it isn't completely because of how the Hall of Records contains our entire history."_

_Shadebreaker shifted her excited look to me. "This is where Optimus worked when he was Orion Pax. And it was also home to Alpha Trion for a time." She said and then looked back at the Hall of Records in amazement._

_I gave Shadebreaker a confused look that she couldn't see, I had never heard Optimus being called 'Orion Pax' before. Was that his name before he became Prime?_

_I mentally shrugged, there was no reason to wonder if that was once Optimus' name when I could just ask the Prime when I returned to my reality. With that, I joined Shadebreaker in staring at the Hall of Records._

_As I looked at the Hall of Records, I couldn't help but feel that there was more to this building than could be seen with the optic. I couldn't place my digit on it, I just felt there was more to the Hall of Records than just data archives. Although, the fact that the Hall of Records held the entire history of our race could have been misleading me. The more I thought about that fact, the more I believed that was the reason for why I felt there was more to the Hall of Records. I mean, it was incredible to think about the sheer about of data this building contained during the Golden Age, and we lost almost all of that data when the Golden Age ended. If we ever found a way to return to Cybertron, I could almost guarantee our first stop would be here to find what historical data we could recover._

_I don't know how long we stood there and admired the Hall of Records, but it was a long time. And when we suddenly returned to the desert the Thirteen had frequented in each of my visits to the Pocket Universe, I felt a small pang of disappointment as I realized the visit was about to end for Shadebreaker and I._

_I looked over at Shadebreaker as I saw her door-wings droop. "Aw, the visit's over already?" She asked sadly, having reached the same conclusion as I had._

_Vector sighed lightly. "I'm afraid so, Little One," he said, placing a servo on his creation's helm and rubbing it affectionately. "You and Shadowstreaker need to return to your respective realities."_

_"Oh," Shadebreaker said quietly, door-wings drooping further in disappointment._

_"Don't sound so depressed," my carrier said to her and then smiled. "Besides, I'm sure you'll be happy to see Ratchet." She finished in a teasing tone._

_Shadebreaker's door-wings twitched as I heard her cooling fans kick in. In response to Solus' teasing, she stuck out her tongue at my carrier, which caused my creators and I to laugh at her reaction._

_Suddenly getting a mischievous look in her optics, Shadebreaker looked over at me. "And Shadowstreaker will be happy to see Arcee again." She teased as she gave me a grin._

_Any amusement I felt instantly evaporated at Shadebreaker's teasing and I narrowed my optics at her in displeasure._

_Shadebreaker just continued to smile in response until her creator wrapped his servos around her in a tight hug._

_"So," Solus said as Shadebreaker and her sire started a conversation I couldn't hear. "I think you should think about what we talked about."_

_I gave my carrier a curious glance. "There are a lot of things we talked about while Shadebreaker and I were here, which one are you referring to?" I asked._

_Megatronus wrapped a servo around my carrier's shoulder-joints and gave me a playful look. "She means what I said, you know, about you being in love with Arcee and all that." He said, giving me a smug smile as I gave a frustrated sigh. "Good luck with telling her, by the way." He finished with a wink and a thumb's up._

_I didn't have time to say anything back at Megatronus before Shadebreaker and I were sent back into our respective realities._

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><p><strong>Oh what's this? Is Shadow' starting to have doubts that his crush on Arcee is just a crush? Well, why don't you keep following the story to find out. Hehe, <strong>

**I know there's parts that probably are random in this chapter, like dinosaurs in the Pocket Universe. But dang it! It was fun to write! :)**

**And on a side note, Fate Calls is now over 150,000 words long. O.o And I feel like I'm just getting warmed up. Lol.  
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**BTW, I'm sorry for ending it pretty abruptly, but the chapter was already over eleven thousand words and we've been working on this for three weeks. Not only would I have delayed Crystal Prime's chapter, but I would have rushed the scenes I have in mind for after Shadow' wakes up again, so I am just going to have those be in the next chapter.**_  
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**This chapter's credit song is... Nothing... Why you ask? Because it's really hard to find a song that suits getting teleported out of a Pocket Universe... Lol. Or even a song that suits Shadowstreaker's thoughts when they're walking to the Hall of Records.  
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****So, please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.****


	22. Conversations

**A month... An entire freaking month since I last updated... *Sigh* I am sorry for the long wait, it seems that writer's block is determined to prevent me from writing. -.- The first part of the chapter took me more than three weeks to write, let me repeat that, three _weeks. _Again I am sorry for the huge wait.**

**But, I do have a few excuses legit excuses to go along with writer's block. For one, my brother's graduation party was about a week after my last update and we spent most of that time preparing for it, let's just leave it at there were a lot of people. Lol. And my little sister's birthday was the same week as my brother's graduation, so I didn't write that day and I spent time with her. And after that, my recently graduated brother and I went on a fishing trip with my dad, we left at 3:30... In the morning. :| But we caught a total of twenty-two fish and all of them were a heck of a lot bigger than any fish I had caught before then, so it was worth it. And after _that_, my dad and I went to a Yankees game in New York, that was a lot of fun, a crap load of driving, but a lot of fun.  
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**That concludes my excuses. Lol.  
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**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.  
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**Anissa - Thanks. And strangely enough... I was writing a lot more during my school year than I have this summer... Weird, huh?  
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**Devil-O-Angel - I made you wait a while, didn't I? I'm sorry for that, but now you'll see how he reacts. :)  
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**jayna prime - Thanks. Lol. It was so much fun to write. :)  
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**pfolk - *Listens to suggested songs* In my opinion, 'What I've Done' doesn't really suit the exist from the Pocket Universe since that song has a bit of a political message, and Shadowstreaker hadn't done anything wrong in that chapter. And 'Cities in Dust' seems to suit... I am not sure, it is one of those songs that I am having a bit of trouble picturing a scene to go with it, but I am certain that I have yet to write a scene that it goes with. And that last song you suggested is actually called '12 21 Prelude' by AFI, and like Cities in Dust, I can't picture a scene to go along with it.  
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**And yes, he does need to grow a spine and tell her. Lol. Probably not by abruptly giving her a fiery kiss, not his style, but he does need to get around to telling her. But Shadowstreaker is a stubborn mech after all. So you, along with everyone else, will have to be patient while he gets over that. :)**

**And I have used elements of my dad's personality in writing Megatronus, he's always joking around with me. Haha.  
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**On the subject of the character suggestions you gave me... I am so sorry, but I can't use them. Don't get me wrong, it is clear that you've thought out the personalities, appearances, origins and back-story very thoroughly. But it is very clear to me that these characters belong in a story that is either running through your mind, or you have already written and have not put on here due to the fact that you don't have an account. I mean, while both Fate Calls and the story that Hawkeye and Aelita come from are in the Transformers' fandom, they are still very different. Let me give you an example, Hawkeye and Aelita are techno-organics with the ability to transform into Autobot bodies and are Mini-Cons. And I don't know how I would write in techno-organics or Mini-Cons into Fate Calls without it not making any sense. Another example being that your characters were meant to be in the movie-verse since Hawkeye is leader of the Mini-Con branch at NEST.  
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**And finally, these are _your _characters. And anything I write would butcher the personalities you have already given them, they would only share the name of the characters you've designed by the time I wrote them. My point is, your characters already have a story to go along with them, and you've already written it in your head. Now, please don't take what I am saying the wrong way, but these characters don't belong in Fate Calls, they belong in the story that goes along with them.  
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**Now I hope you haven't gotten angry at me for my inability to get your characters into Fate Calls, and I hope you continue to follow this story and enjoy it as much as your reviews suggest. Thank you for all your feedback.  
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**KayleeChiara - Interesting was what Crystal and I were going for. As well as making sure Shadow' was teased for his stubbornness. Lol. And you're welcome! I love writing! :)  
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**Sky'sLimit5 - Stubborn aft indeed, but it is fun making him so stubborn. Hehe. And yes, yes Springer did deserve an aft-kicking, but Prowl is just being his logical self. Shadow' did technically start the fight after all, and if the Autobots allowed that behavior to go unpunished, then they'd be like the Cons. And that just isn't right. And that probably would be why Shadow's a better fighter, though to be fair, he is built for battle. :)  
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**RatchetsGirl - Thank... You...? *Isn't sure what smiley is*  
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**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.  
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><p><strong>November 10, 2012 8:48 A.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

The Pocket Universe faded away and I found myself sitting in my cell again. Checking my internal clock, I was surprised to find that only fifteen klicks had passed since I fell into recharge.

'Huh, last time I was in the Pocket Universe an entire night's recharge had gone by before I onlined again.' I thought as I raised my helm up from the berth and looked at Prowl's desk across from my cell, it was empty.

"Must still be giving a lecture to whoever messed up their report," I said to myself with a slight chuckle and let my helm fall back to the berth.

I managed to lay on the berth for five klicks before boredom set in. With boredom came a wandering CPU, and with a wandering CPU came dangerous thoughts -thoughts that were focused on what my sire said about my feelings for a certain blue femme.

My sire had flatly told me I was in love with Arcee, but I couldn't be, I just couldn't. And for several reasons. For one, Arcee was thousands of centi-vorns old and I was essentially eighteen years old according to how my former race measured time. I was practically a sparkling compared to her, and I am still too young to fall in love. At least, according to some article I read when I was just starting high school that was written by a guy saying teenagers couldn't understand what love was and how ninety-five percent of their marriages ended in divorce.

'Thinking about marriage? Now that's a bit premature, don't you think? How about you start courting Arcee before thinking about getting bonded to her?' My own CPU seemed to tease me, I immediately stopped that line of thought and rubbed a servo over my faceplate. Now my own CPU was giving me a hard time about my crush.

Thankfully, the sound of the brig door opening prevented me from continuing to think about what Megatronus said. I leaned toward the barrier to see who was entering, it was Optimus.

But right away I knew this wasn't a normal visit. His calm, arrow-straight and precise stride was far more serious and professional than his usual gate, his posture was straighter and even more commanding than it usually was, and the impassive look on his faceplate rivaled Prowl's expression in the lack of emotion it contained. Optimus Prime, was _not_ a happy camper.

Immediately seeing that my friend and commanding officer was less than pleased, I got up from the berth and stood directly in front of the cold-plasma barrier with my servos folded behind my backplates in the causal, but respectful military stance that I frequently used.

Optimus shifted his impassive gaze to me as he continued to walk into the brig.

"Shadowstreaker," the Prime greeted me in a calm, reserved tone once he completed his trek to my cell.

"Prime," I replied, referring to him by title instead of name since it was clear the reason for this visit wasn't a social one, and I had a feeling that reason was about my fight with Springer.

Optimus mirrored my stance by folding his servos behind his backplates as well. "A cracked optic, eight broken gears in one servo, four pistons in need of repair in one pede, and one piston that is beyond repair in the same pede." He listed off in a neutral tone that he somehow managed to make intimidating. "These are only some of the injuries you intentionally inflicted on a fellow Autobot. Explain your actions." He ordered.

"He was mocking Arcee behind her backplates. He was also making crude and unwanted advances at her, Prime." I answered.

The Prime shook his helm slightly. "I am aware of Springer's behavior, Shadowstreaker. He has made it clear from the first cycle he joined the Autobot cause that he held an interest in Arcee, and she has made it clear that the feeling is far from mutual. But, that is not enough to justify the injuries you gave him." He reprimanded as he unfolded his servos from behind his backplates and started to pace in front of my cell.

I gave Optimus a flat look. "With all due respect, Prime, were you told of the nature of his comments directed at Arcee as well as the subject he mentioned to mock her once she had left the Safe?" I asked.

"No, I was only informed that his rather... Lewd ways of conversing with Arcee were on display before you began your fight." Optimus responded, giving me a brief glance as he continued pacing.

"For starters, he put a servo around her shoulder-joints and essentially asked Arcee to interface with him in his quarters..." I said in a disgusted tone of voice.

Optimus immediately halted his pacing and looked over at me again. "Would you mind repeating that?" He asked after a short moment of silence.

"I said that he put a servo around her shoulder-joints and essentially asked her to interface with him," I said, unconsciously grinding my dentas in anger as I recalled Springer's comments.

The look in Optimus' optics darkened slightly and he was silent for a good ten micro-klicks. "And the subject he used to mock her after she left the Safe?" He finally asked.

"He plainly said that it was Arcee's fault that both Tailgate and Cliffjumper were offlined. And we both know that Arcee blames herself for their offlinings." I replied. I was going say that I helped Arcee realize that there wasn't anything she could have done to prevent Tailgate from being offlined. But, I didn't want to somehow inadvertently tell Optimus that Arcee and I almost kissed after I helped her realize that, so I didn't mention it.

The look in Optimus' optics darkened further. "We came to Cliffjumper's aid as quickly as possible, but he was gone before we even arrived, his offlining was not something that could have been prevented. As for Tailgate..." Optimus paused a moment. "Despite Arcee's belief that she was at fault, he was offlined in a situation that was beyond the control of any of us. As gruesome as his offlining was, it could also not have been prevented. Both Tailgate and Cliffjumper were some of my bravest soldiers. Only the Decepticons are at fault for their offlinings, not Arcee. The mere suggestion that says otherwise is an insult to their sacrifices." The Prime finished in a calm voice, though I knew Optimus well enough to know that he was pissed at Springer.

"Agreed," I said. "He basically spat on their graves when he said it was Arcee's fault they were offlined."

Optimus gave a heavy sigh. "As good a reason as that is to fight Springer, it still does not justify giving him injuries of the severity that you inflicted, Shadowstreaker."

I stared at Optimus incredulously. There was no way he was serious, there was just no way. Springer was basically Arcee's stalker, he was constantly hitting on her and was generally a piece of scum whenever he spoke with her. He was in the middle of bluntly asking her to interface with him before she knocked him to the floor, he flatly said it was her fault that Cliffjumper and Tailgate were offline. Granted, that last one was probably meant to get a rise out of me, but that was beside the point, and that point was that he was basically a walking, talking piece of slag. But somehow, despite all those things, beating him up wasn't justified?

"What?" I finally asked, voice flat with disbelief.

"While you have informed me of questionable behavior from Springer that I will not tolerate or allow him to continue, your actions against him are also questionable. You have given a fellow Autobot severe injuries, Shadowstreaker. Injuries that will require at least two mega-cycles to heal. And conflict of this nature among my soldiers is also something I will not tolerate." Optimus responded.

"But he's been an aft to her for more vorns than I can count in a solar-cycle," I protested. "He can't even go a few breems without hitting on her. And his attempts, to quote his own words, 'seduce her' have been getting more and more blunt and crude since he and Jetfire arrived!" I paused briefly and walked from one end of my cell to the other before I continued.

"He asked her to interface with him, without even being courted, let alone bonded for Primus' sake! He said that it was her fault that Cliffjumper and Tailgate were offlined! How the frag does that _not_ justify fighting him?!" I was shouting at the top of my air-intakes by the time I finished my rant, but Optimus didn't even blink, he just let me vent. And I was thankful for that, because I was really mad at the moment, and I needed to vent.

After I hadn't spoken for a few micro-klicks, Optimus folded his servos behind his backplates again and stepped a bit closer to my cell.

"Shadowstreaker, please understand." He said, voice calm and filled with infinite patience. He sounded more like an older brother explaining something to his younger sibling than a commanding officer lecturing his soldier, which was what he had been doing at the start of this visit. "We Autobots are gravely outnumbered by the Decepticons. For each of us on this planet, there are more than a fifty Decepticons. And for every crate of energon we add to our storage hangers, the Decepticons add a hundred to their stock pile. In short, we are too few in number to afford making enemies of our fellow Autobots, especially with Megatron now leading the Deceptions again. But you have likely done exactly that."

I looked away from Optimus and shook my helm. Unfortunately, he was right. We had more than enough enemies in the Decepticons, there was no point in making an enemy of your ally, which is probably what I've made out of Springer.

"So, what happens now? Do I go over to Springer and say I'm sorry for beating him up?" I asked in a half sarcastic, and half serious tone.

Optimus shook his helm once. "No, I will not force you to apologize when you clearly have no desire to do so. As for what happens now, you will serve your allotted three solar-cycles in this cell." He answered.

"And Springer?" I asked. "You said that his behavior wasn't something you'd allow him to continue."

"His punishment will come after he has recovered from his injuries. Until then, I believe being taken care of by Ratchet, and using up the time Ratchet could be spending with his courted, is punishment enough." With that light joke, Optimus turned and started walking towards the door, but for some reason he hesitated and looked back at me. But he didn't say anything, he just stared at me curiously.

"What?" I asked when he continued to stare at me for several micro-klicks.

Optimus was silent for another moment before he finally spoke. "If you don't mind me asking, why did you react to Springer's words in the matter that you did?" He asked as he back-tracked the few steps he had taken towards the door and once again stood in front of my cell.

"I already told you why, he was mocking Arcee and making unwanted advances that were even more crude than usual." I said, optic ridges coming together as I gazed at the Prime in confusion. To me, that question was random, and something random coming from Optimus was unheard of.

"No, that was the reason you gave for starting your fight with Springer, but that is not the answer for why you reacted in the manner you did. So why did you react that way?" The Prime asked as he looked at me like I was a giant puzzle he was trying to figure out, it was making me even more confused than I already was.

I continued giving Optimus a perplexed look as I answered. "I lost my temper when he said Arcee was the one to blame for Cliffjumper and Tailgate being offlined."

"But should that have gotten you angry enough to fight him?" Optimus asked. "You are a very calm mech, Shadowstreaker. I can count the number of times I have seen you lose your temper on one servo, and you are not one to let your temper control your actions. But, from what Bulkhead and Bumblebee told me of your fight with Springer, that is exactly what you allowed to happen. So, what was it about Springer's words that affected you so much?" By the time Optimus finished speaking, it sounded more like he was musing to himself than actually asking me questions, but his words got me thinking.

Why had Springer's words affected me so much? Sure, what Springer said made me angry, pissed off even... Royally pissed off, actually. But, as Optimus pointed out, I wasn't known for letting my temper control my actions, but all thoughts of controlling my anger went out the window when I heard Springer mock Arcee. So, why did his words really make me so mad that I beat the living slag out of him?

'Because you didn't want the femme you loved to be insulted any further.' My CPU seemed to answer on its own.

That last thought stopped all of my mental activity for a few moments before I plunged back into my thoughts. Was... Was that really why I lost my temper? Was that why I attacked Springer? Was it really because I had somehow, someway fallen for Arcee in the relatively short time I had known her? My processor was screaming no... But, my spark was saying yes.

And for the first time since I first realized I had feelings for Arcee, I was more inclined to listen to my spark over my processor.

It was then that it finally dawned on me, I was in love with Arcee. And the more I thought about it, the more it became apparent that I had felt this way for a long time now and not realized it. The way my spark fluttered when she smiled at me, the way my mood lightened when she was around, the way I sometimes felt protective of her even though she's perfectly capable of protecting herself, and the way I had felt the urge to punch Springer every single time he leered at her. They were all signs that I had fallen for her, and I didn't see them.

I pulled myself out of my thoughts and found Optimus staring at me through the barrier with a look of realization written on his faceplate. He had figured out the puzzle.

"You are in love with Arcee, aren't you?" He asked in a quiet voice that carried a trace of mirth.

"Yeah, yeah I am." I answered quietly and sat down on the berth, since Optimus was no longer being formal, I figured it was alright if I was informal as well.

Optimus smiled slightly. "How long?" He asked, clearly meaning how long it had been since I cared for Arcee more than as I friend.

"I didn't even realize it until just now, but I think it was back in June," I replied. "When she visited me in the med-bay immediately after we found the piece of the Apex Armor."

Optimus hummed in acknowledgement. "And what has stopped you from telling Arcee how you feel about her?"

I chuckled. "Jetfire asked me that same question when he figured out I had feelings for Arcee."

"Jetfire is aware that you are enamored with Arcee?" Optimus asked with one optic ridge raised ever so slightly, the only indication that he was surprised to learn Jetfire knew I had feelings for Arcee.

"Yes, he found out a little over a mega-cycle ago, just after I yelled at Springer for what had been one of his crudest attempts to hit on Arcee, before this cycle at least." I said. "He asked the same question you just did, and I will give you the same answer. I don't want to ruin our friendship, and telling Arcee that I love her would do exactly that since she doesn't feel the same way about me. So, I plan on keeping my feelings a secret from her." I finished stiffly.

The Prime shook his helm. "You are making the assumption that she only sees you as a friend, Shadowstreaker. And it is nearly impossible for you to know for certain how Arcee feels about you. It is quite possible that your feelings are mutual." He said with an almost, but not quite, insinuating tone in his voice. A nearly identical tone to what Shadebreaker used when she first spoke on my recent visit to the Pocket Universe.

I gave Optimus an intensely curious stare. That was the third time someone had said those words to me, or at least in a similar manner. First Jetfire after he found out I had feelings for Arcee, then Shadebreaker when I said there wasn't any progress to be made with Arcee when my feelings for her were one-sided, and now Optimus when he finds out I'm in love with Arcee. What were the odds that three different bots would say almost the exact same thing? And what were they getting at?

"That is the third time someone has said I don't know for certain how Arcee feels about to me, and the second time someone has used that tone of voice when saying it." I said. "But I do not understand why. What do you mean by that?"

The Prime ignored my question and asked one of his own. "The third time someone has said that to you? I suspect Jetfire was the first to say it, but who was the second?"

I narrowed my optics slightly. It wasn't like Optimus to avoid a question like that, but I let his unusual behavior slide. "Shadebreaker was the second one to say it." I answered, and then repeated my question. "Now what did you mean by saying it is nearly impossible for me to know how Arcee feels about me?"

Optimus deflected my question again. "You said that Jetfire found out you harbor feelings for Arcee just over a mega-cycle ago. How could Shadebreaker have been the second to say that to you when you met her four jours ago while you were visiting the Thirteen and you have not spoken to her since?" It was clear that Optimus' main intention in asking his question was to avoid my own, but there was genuine confusion and curiosity in his optics.

I stared at Optimus for a few moments before I decided to let our conversation move to a different subject. But, I added a mental note to ask Optimus at least one more time before he left the brig about what he meant by saying that I didn't know how Arcee felt about me.

"Just before you entered the brig, I onlined after having a visit with the Thirteen." I finally responded.

The look of curiosity in Optimus' optics intensified the moment I mentioned the Thirteen. "What was the purpose of your visit?" He asked.

"There wasn't one, really." I replied with a shrug. "It seemed that Vector and my creators just wanted to spend some time with Shadebreaker and I since they were the only members of the Thirteen that I spoke to while I was there. They did show us some very interesting things while we were there, though."

"'Interesting things'? What do you mean?" The Prime asked in an inquisitive and slightly confused tone.

I smiled. "For starters, do you know there are dinosaurs in the Pocket Universe?" I asked.

In what was one of the most expressive looks I had ever seen Optimus use, the Prime's optic ridges came together and he tilted his helm to the right so slightly that I briefly thought it was a trick of the light.

"What is a dinosaur?" He asked in a tone that mirrored the perplexed look he was giving me.

I chuckled in amusement and shook my helm. "Look it up, Optimus."

The Prime acknowledged my words with a nod and his optics went dim as he searched the internet.

After a micro-klick, his optics returned to their normal brightness as he disconnected from the internet and he looked back at me.

"Those creatures were in the Pocket Universe?" He asked as his optics widened a little in surprise.

"Yes, yes there were. And a few species of the dinosaurs seemed to be as-of-yet undiscovered by human paleontolgists." I responded.

"Such as?" Optimus prompted.

"You encountered pictures of a Tyrannosaurus Rex on the internet, correct?" I asked, and then continued at the Prime's nod. "Well picture this, a Tyrannosaurus Rex three times its normal size, with three-clawed arms large enough to reach beyond its chin, bony protrusions all over its body, and a fifteen foot skull filled with teeth the length of a human's arm. Add all that together, and you have one of the largest dinosaurs I saw in the Pocket Universe." I finished my description, and smiled slightly at the look of shock in the Prime's optics.

"That would be... A large animal." He said after he stared at me a few moments. "Besides these 'dinosaurs', what else did you see in your visit in the Pocket Universe?" He asked.

Knowing that Optimus had a passion for history, I smirked.

"Vector and my creators showed Shadebreaker and I what Cybertron looked like in the Golden Age." I said, widening my smirk as Optimus stared at me in amazement.

The Prime continued staring at me for several micro-klicks before he finally spoke.

"You saw Cybertron in its Golden Age?" He asked in a quiet tone that was filled with awe.

"Yes, but not all of it, though. They just showed us a few different parts of Iacon. But even though we didn't see that much, I still found my breath being stolen away by Iacon's magnificence." I replied in a fond voice, briefly picturing the sights of Iacon in Cybertron's Golden Age before I forced myself to focus on my conversation with Optimus.

But it seemed the Prime was in another place, because he wasn't even looking at me and there was a far-away look in his optics.

"Iacon in the Golden Age..." I heard Optimus say to himself. "What an amazing sight that much have been," he finished musing to himself and looked back at me. "What parts of Iacon did the Thirteen show you and Shadebreaker?"

"The first area we were shown was what looked like a walkway in the city center. There were thousands of Cybertronians walking around us. And when you looked over the side of the walkway, you could distantly see the outer shell of the Core of Cybertron." I said, smiling slightly as I recalled the sight of the Core far beyond the last occupied levels of Iacon.

I saw that Optimus had a faint smile on his faceplate as well. "Iacon was the only place on Cybertron where you could see the Core without traveling to Cybertron's lower levels." He said wistfully, and then asked another question. "What other parts of Iacon did you see?"

"After we saw the city center, Vector and my creators led Shadebreaker and I to the Decagon... Now _that_ was a breath-taking sight." I responded, shaking my helm in amazement as the mental image of the Decagon towering over every nearby building flashed through my processor.

The Prime chuckled. "The Decagon always had a way of leaving bots in awe whenever they saw it. When you stood inside the building long enough, you would get the sense you were standing in a place of safety and strength. It was as if the Decagon itself was trying to fulfill its role of a military base without the bots working inside it. We never understood how or why the Decagon seemed to have its own aura." He said, tone changing from amusement when he started talking about the Decagon to confusion when he spoke of the mysteries of the military base. Mysteries that I could probably answer.

"I can probably give you the reason for why the Decagon had its own aura," I said, causing the Prime to look at me curiously.

"And what was that reason?" Optimus asked.

"Solus and Megatronus were the Decagon's architects." I answered plainly, I would have said more, but when the Thirteen were involved, no further explanation was required.

A look of understanding came into Optimus' optics. "That explains why the Decagon had characteristics that were beyond what our scientists could understand." He said.

Now it was my turn to give him a curious look. "What do you mean?" I asked, voice reflecting the curiosity written on my faceplate.

"There were machines inside the Decagon that were far too advanced for our scientists to replicate or even explain how they worked." The Prime explained. "The most well-known of these machines was referred to as the Forge. According to our scientists, it could create its own matter and use it to construct any kind of military equipment, weapons, armor, munitions, even entire war ships, everything required for an army. But due to the fact our scientists discovered the amount of power needed to activate the Forge was equal to the energy a blue supergiant star would give off in its lifetime, we never came close to actually activating it, we only studied it. But that did not stop Megatron from attempting to use it when he took over Iacon, he failed of course, but the war would have gone far worse for we Autobots had he succeeded." He concluded.

"Huh... My creators forgot to mention that when they said they designed the Decagon," I said after Optimus had finished explaining.

Optimus gave a small smile. "Perhaps you should ask them about the Forge during your next visit with them," he suggested, and then asked another question. "What part of Iacon did Vector and your creators show you and Shadebreaker next?"

Mentally adding Optimus' suggestion to the list of things I wanted to eventually ask the Thirteen, I answered his question. "They showed us only one other place, the Hall of Records. It was a very interesting building to see, not as visually impressive as the Decagon, but the fact the Hall of Records was where the entire history of the Cybertronian race was kept made it more interesting in some ways."

"The Hall of Records did not contain the collective history of our race, Shadowstreaker." Optimus corrected mildly. "Nearly all records of the time before or during the Golden Age were lost to time. Had those records not been lost, I would likely have never left the Hall of Records while I worked there as a data clerk." The Prime finished with a slight laugh.

I gazed at Optimus thoughtfully. He had just confirmed part Shadebreaker's statement in the Pocket Universe, he had worked at the Hall of Records. But the other part of Shadebreaker's statement where she said his name was name was once Orion Pax was still unanswered, I decided to satisfy my curiosity and rectify that.

"Optimus, I said. "Can I ask you something?"

The Prime gave me an amused look. "You just did," he noted humorously, causing me to roll my optics before he continued in his usual manner. "Of course you may, Shadowstreaker."

I leaned forward from where I sat on the berth and stared at Optimus for a moment. "Was your name really Orion Pax before you were Prime?" I asked.

The Prime widened his optics in shock and took a step backwards as if struck by an invisible blow. "How did you know that?" He asked in return, voice filled with surprise.

"Shadebreaker told me in the while we were looking at the Hall of Records," I answered.

The surprise faded from Optimus' optics. "What she told you is correct, my name was once Orion Pax, although it has been thousands of centi-vorns since I was last called that." He said with a look of nostalgia in his optics, as if recalling fond memories.

There was a short silence between Optimus and I before the Prime spoke again.

"If that is all, Shadowstreaker, I will return to my duties. I have spent a much longer period of time speaking with you than I intended." He said, already turning towards the brig door to prepare to leave.

"That's all, Optimus. I'll talk to you later," I replied, and then laid down on the berth to get into a more comfortable position.

Optimus gave me a farewell nod and walked towards the brig door. And he quickly disappeared from the brig.

I sighed once Optimus left the brig, I was back to being alone again, and I knew boredom was probably going to set in pretty soon. But that couldn't be avoided, and it was my own fault for getting myself sent in here, so I was just going to have to deal with it.

My optics widened and I sat bolt-upright on the berth as I suddenly remembered something.

"FRAG!" I yelled in the empty brig. "I forgot to ask Optimus what he meant by saying I didn't know for certain how Arcee feels about me!"

* * *

><p><strong>November 13, 2012 4:36 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

"For the _fifteenth time_, Miko." I said in a tired voice. "I really did see dinosaurs while I visited the Pocket Universe."

"I don't believe you!" Came the same response from the young Japanese women for the fifteenth consecutive time.

Three solar-cycles had passed since I had beat Springer up, gotten thrown in the brig, visited the Pocket Universe and spoken with Vector, Shadebreaker, and my creators... And realized I had been in love with Arcee since June. That fact hadn't quite set in yet.

I apparently missed our first skirmish with the Decepticons since Megatron retook command, but other than that, I didn't miss anything important.

Right now I was trying, with little success, to get Miko to believe me when I said I had seen dinosaurs in the Pocket Universe. Jack and Raf believed me when I told them, Prowl glitched when I told him, but he believed me after Ratchet brought him back online, Ratchet himself believed me, Jetfire believed me, Moonracer believed me, Bumblebee believed me, Bulkhead believed me, I didn't give a slag what Springer thought. And Arcee hadn't even blinked when I told her I had seen dinosaurs in the Pocket Universe when I spoke with her later in the cycle. So for some reason, Miko was the only one who didn't believe me, which was a little strange since she would go crazy and pull out her cellphone to take pictures if the word 'zombie' was even uttered within a fifty meter radius of her. But apparently dinosaurs didn't have that same affect.

I pinched the bridge of my nose-plate. "Miko, why are you having such a hard time believing this?" I asked.

"Because the dinosaurs are all dead! They couldn't have been in there when they're dead!" Miko said, either forgetting or disregarding what I told her earlier about how the Thirteen saved endangered species of animals.

I rolled my optics in exasperation and looked over at the Xbox area as Jack spoke up from where he and Raf were playing a co-op game of Dungeon Defenders.

"Shadowstreaker's told you how and why the dinosaurs were in the Pocket Universe like three times, Miko." He said, not taking his eyes off the screen as he and Raf fought off hundreds of goblins and orks.

"Four times, actually." I corrected, pausing briefly to watch Jack and Raf's game as an ogre broke through their defenses and caused Jack to let out a four-letter expletive before I turned to look at Miko again. "Listen, Miko. I've gotten tired of trying to prove this to you. Can you please just take my word for it?" I asked.

Miko narrowed her eyes at me in displeasure. "Fine," she said after a moment and started walking over to Jack and Raf. "But this could have been avoided if you'd just taken some pictures!" She called over her shoulder.

I raised an optic ridge as I watched her walk away. "I can't transfer memory files to a computer, Miko. And I don't have a camera to take pictures with." I pointed out, only for my statement to fall on deaf ears as Miko kept walking over to the Xbox area without another word.

With my debate with Miko finally over, I started thinking about what I could do next. But before I even started going over my options, an alarm signaling an incoming call from Agent Fowler sounded from the workstation.

As soon as the alarm started, Ratchet groaned in annoyance and stepped over from where he was standing next to Moonracer to his part of the workstation while Optimus walked over to the two medics from where he stood next to the ground bridge.

Both Ratchet and Moonracer typed a command into their parts of the workstation and the figure of Agent Fowler from the waist up appeared on the main screen as I started to walk over.

_"Prime!"_ The government agent yelled immediately. _"I hope you and your Autobots can shed some light on my current situation,"_ he said, both the look on his face and the tone in his voice urgent and serious, if a little vague and confusing.

"And what would that situation be, Agent Fowler?" The Prime asked in a neutral, patient voice, the tone he always used when speaking with the government agent.

Fowler turned away from us and gestured to someone off-camera as Jack, Raf, and Miko walked over and stood on the catwalk under the main screen.

_"Exactly three minutes ago,"_ Fowler said, turning back to the camera to look at us. _"A spy-satellite sent into orbit by the S.T.F 141 caught this on tape just before it was shot down."_

As Fowler spoke, his image on the main screen shrunk into a small window in the top corner of the screen and was replaced by video from a camera on the satellite Fowler mentioned.

At first video was dark since it appeared the satellite was orbiting the other side of Earth, but the video became bright as day when the mangled, glowing-red form of a ship flew right passed the satellite and continued down towards Earth's surface.

A couple of micro-klicks after the mangled ship went passed the satellite, a much, much larger ship appeared on camera. From what I could tell from the footage, the second ship was midnight black and designed in a manner very similar to the Nemesis, except it was wider and clearly an even larger vessel. A far, far larger vessel in fact. If I had to guess, I would say that it was at least three times the Nemesis' length, although I couldn't be sure because there was only one camera angle.

As the second ship passed the satellite, a small, silver dot appeared on the screen and seemed to be heading for the satellite, it steadily grew larger until it was large enough for me to tell it was a missile. A micro-klick after the silver dot was revealed to be a missile, the missile hit the satellite and the camera footage became static.

_"That was just the first of our satellites to be shot down,"_ Agent Fowler said as his image replaced the static of the satellite footage. _"Two weather satellites and one Google Earth satellite were shot down less than a minute after that S.T.F satellite was shot down. Whoever's on that ship doesn't want to be seen. So what are we dealing with here, Prime? Even more Decepticons?"_ The government agent asked.

Moonracer answered Fowler's question instead of Optimus. "I believe so, Agent Fowler. I recognized the ship that down your satellite as a Decepticon war ship called an Adversary-class escort carrier. Although it seems that both the ship it was pursuing and the Adversary-class itself must have cloaking fields since our systems never detected them."

Agent Fowler raised both his eye brows in alarm. _"You Bots class that monster as an escort carrier?"_ He asked, fear starting to creep into his voice. _"That thing's probably half the size of Manhattan!"_

"Yes, Agent Fowler. The Adversary-class is considered an escort carrier by the standards of our race." Optimus answered. "But what is of greater concern to me is the amount of Decepticons a single Adversary-class is capable of transporting."

Agent Fowler's face grew serious. _"How many?"_ He asked, obviously asking for the number of Decepticons he could expect to be onboard the Adversary-class.

"Depending on the classes of the warriors onboard, two to four thousand Decepticon soldiers." The Prime responded gravely.

Agent Fowler grimaced._ "Damn..."_ He said. _"A Con army of that size would just steam-roll our military forces."_

"The army onboard the Nemesis already had the ability to do that, Agent Fowler." Ratchet pointed out in his usual tone.

Fowler ignored Ratchet's statement and addressed Optimus again. _"What about the ship the carrier was chasing, Prime?"_ He asked. _"What can you tell me about that? Is it one of yours?"_

"I do not know, Agent Fowler. The ship was too-" That was as far as Optimus got in his response before Arcee cut him off as she entered the ops center.

"Ironhide and my sisters are on that ship." She said evenly, but I could tell she was both excited for the arrival of her sisters and Ironhide as well as fearful for their safety.

Optimus looked over at the femme I had fallen for as she stepped up next to me. "When did your bonds with them strengthen?" The Prime asked.

"Just now, they kept their ends of our bonds blocked until only about a klick ago," Arcee replied as she crossed her servos over her chestplates.

_"Uh, can someone fill in the confused human?"_ Agent Fowler asked as he looked between Optimus and Arcee. _"I mean, sisters? Ironhide? Bonds? What the hell are you talking about?"_

I looked over at the main screen. "Cybertronians form bonds between family members, Agent Fowler. We can literally feel everyone in our families. We know when they are in pain, when they are angry, calm, happy, or depressed. We can even locate members of our families through the bond we share with them." I explained.

Fowler gave an understanding nod. _"And since Arcee apparently has sisters..."_

"She can feel her sisters." I finished his sentence, leaving out the fact that Arcee also shared a sibling bond with Ironhide as well since he was sparkmated to Chromia, figuring if Arcee didn't mention that fact, then it wasn't my place to share it.

_"Huh... Sounds handy,"_ Fowler said to me before looking back at Optimus. _"Prime, if Arcee can locate where the first ship went down than I can contact the S.T.F and maybe we can catch the Cons off guard-"_ That was as far as he got before Optimus interjected.

"Agent Fowler, you have already said that Earth's military forces would be overwhelmed by the Decepticons onboard the carrier." The Prime said. "There is nothing General Shepherd and his task force can do to help."

_"I know that. But there has got to be something we can do!"_ Fowler protested in a loud voice. _"A war ship carrying thousands of Decepticons is either orbiting above Earth, or is landing on its surface. This is our planet Prime, we need to do our part to protect it."_

"As of right now, Agent Fowler," Optimus said. "The only way for you to help protect your planet is to keep your militaries away from that Decepticon carrier." With that, he gestured to Ratchet to kill the feed, cutting off Agent Fowler as he opened his mouth, likely to protest again.

The Prime looked at Moonracer. "Moonracer, contact the others on patrol, tell them to report back to-" He didn't get any further in issuing his order before another alarm sounded from the workstation, a different alarm than the one that signaled a call from Fowler.

With a confused look on her faceplate, Moonracer entered a command into her part of the workstation and the main screen began to display an unknown energy signature moving over the Arizona badlands at hypersonic speeds.

"A Dark Energon signature," Ratchet said after he looked at the screen for a brief moment. "And it's moving fast."

"Megatron's on the move." Optimus said with a slight growl in his voice, and I noticed that he clinched a servo as he looked over Ratchet's shoulder-joint and at the main screen.

"It has been more than a mega-cycle since he came out of stasis," I said as I gazed at the main screen. "It's about time he actually left the Nemesis."

"So the question is, where did he get more Dark Energon?" Moonracer asked. "And how will we deal with the Adversary-class either orbiting or on the surface of Earth as well as Megatron?"

Optimus gazed at the main screen for several long moments before he looked at Moonracer. "Contact the others on patrol and get them back to base," he repeated his previous order that was interrupted.

When Moonracer nodded and started to enter commands into her part of the workstation, Optimus told Ratchet to open up a map of Earth and turned to Arcee.

"Where do you feel Ironhide and your sisters?" He asked her as Ratchet complied to his order and changed the image on the main screen to a map.

Arcee had a distant look in her optics for several micro-klicks, more than likely because she was reaching out to her sisters and Ironhide through their bonds, before she looked at the map and pointed a digit at the Indian Ocean area of the map. "There," she said. "I feel as though they're somewhere in that ocean."

Ratchet looked at where Arcee was pointing at the map and entered a command into his part of the workstation, causing the main screen to zoom in on the Indian Ocean.

After the main screen focused on the Indian Ocean, Arcee got another distant look in her optics as she reached out to her sisters and Ironhide before she pointed a digit at the screen again.

"There, zoom in three-hundred and fifty miles northeast of Madagascar," she directed.

Ratchet nodded and entered another command into his part of the workstation. The main screen zoomed in again and focused on what looked like a small, and very remote, jungle island.

"That's where Ironhide and my sisters are," Arcee said with absolute certainty.

"And that is where you and Shadowstreaker are going, Arcee." Optimus said to the blue and pink femme and looked at Ratchet. "Ratchet, ground bridge Arcee and Shadowstreaker onto that island."

Ratchet turned to his part of the workstation. "With all due respect, Optimus." He said as he started to type a set of coordinates into the computer. "But just Arcee and Shadowstreaker? I'm almost certain that the Adversary-class is already there, searching for our fellow Autobots. It will take more than two of us to fight through the Decepticon ranks and find Ironhide and the others before they do."

"Which is why they will not be engaging the Decepticons, Ratchet." Optimus replied. "They will instead search for our fellow Autobots covertly."

"A stealth mission," I concluded.

The Prime nodded. "Precisely. If the Decepticons are already searching for Ironhide, Elita, Chromia, and whoever else was onboard that ship, then they are on the lookout for a large number of us attempting a rescue, but they will not be searching for two Autobots moving around them covertly." He explained as Ratchet opened the ground bridge.

"Very clever," I said as Arcee went to stand next to the ground bridge. "So while Arcee and I are searching for the Autobot ship, what will you and everyone else be doing? Intercepting Megatron?" I asked.

"Exactly," the Prime answered. "We can't let Megatron go through with whatever his plan is for the Dark Energon he is transporting," he looked over at the ground bridge. "You should go and join Arcee, Shadowstreaker. Time is precious, right now."

I nodded and walked over to Arcee as she stared into the green portal anxiously as she shifted her weight from pede to pede.

"Don't worry, Arcee." I said as I stepped next to her and gave her a comforting look. "We'll find Ironhide and your sisters before the Cons do."

The femme I had fallen for gave me a grateful look, then nodded and started walking toward the ground bridge.

I followed after her wordlessly. And soon, we both disappeared into the ground bridge.

* * *

><p><strong>And I ended it on a cliff hanger... Aren't I terrible? Lol.<strong>

**I know the cliffhanger probably wasn't as good as previous ones, but it was originally supposed to be leading into the next part of this chapter. But then I realized I had been working on this chapter for an entire month and had eight thousand words to show for it... So I am cutting it in two. And the next part should be quite a bit longer. :)  
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**And Shadow' has finally realized he's in love with Arcee! Geez that only took me about a hundred thousand words to get him to realize that. Lol.  
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**This chapter's credit song is "Fired Earth Music - Downfall" This song really suits the ending theme of the chapter and the fact that another Decepticon ship is currently on Earth... But the fact that the particular video I am watching along with this song has a picture of the Reapers invading Earth admittedly had something to do with my choice. Haha.  
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**So, please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.  
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	23. Stealth Redefined

**Well, that took a long time. Sorry for the wait, but this chapter just kept going and going. Again, I am sorry for the wait... I seem to be sorry for the wait a lot... Huh.**

**So, my last chapter got more reviews than I have ever gotten for a chapter. Thank you all for reviewing, you have no idea how much it cheers me up. :)  
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**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**jayna prime - Yes, yes it did take forever for Shadow' to realize his feelings. Lol. And I am glad you think it was worth the wait for Shadow' to realize his feelings weren't just a simple crush. :) And I didn't do a good job of hurrying up with this chapter, huh? Lol.  
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**KayleeChiara - I thought so. Lol. Yes, yes he does have a clue, but remember, Shadow' is stubborn. Lol. And you'll have to read to find out what I'm going to do with Elita's introduction. :P And you're welcome! I love writing!  
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**TransformersAndJesusFan - Wow, a whole day? On one hand, I am glad you found my story so interesting, and on the other, I am sorry I wasted your day. Lol. Thank you for finding this story interesting and yes, yes Shadowstreaker is stubborn. Haha. And I plan on it. :) Sorry for keeping you hanging for the last month.  
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**Crystal Prime - *Waves hand* You don't need to, you should only review when you want to. :) And I was going for a cool description of that, thanks. :)  
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**Guest - Yes, yes they will. And it took him long enough, didn't it? Lol. And maybe they will... And maybe they won't. *Mysterious music* *Looks around* Where'd that come from? Anyway, thanks for reviewing and I am sorry I had you wait so long.  
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**pfolk - I am glad you understand my reasons for not using your characters. And it is ironic you asked that. You will see... Soon.  
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**falloutaki - I am a humble guy, so I don't think of my story as a masterpiece, but I thank you for thinking for highly of it. And that is one of my favorite songs. :)  
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**Autobot Shadowstalker - Yup, they're here! Lol. And Ironhide is a huge bonus... Literally. Haha.  
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**Sky's Limit5 - As I said in an earlier review. Maybe, and maybe not. :) And the wait is over, sorry for making it a long one.  
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**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.**

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><p><strong>November 14, 2012 12:51 A.M<strong>

**A jungle island in the Indian Ocean**

A white sandy beach illuminated by the green glow of the ground bridge was the first thing I was aware of when we exited out of the portal.

I looked up at the sky. Luna was in its new moon phase, so there was obviously no light coming from it, but it seemed as though there were clouds above us since there wasn't any star light either. So, visibility beyond the light of the ground bridge was virtually zero, at least, it would be zero if I was still human. It was moments like this that I loved having built-in night-vision.

A micro-klick to two after Arcee and I exited the ground bridge, the green portal closed and plunged us in complete darkness.

And a few moments after the ground bridge closed, my optics adjusted to the blackness around Arcee and I, and the night became day.

After my optics adjusted to the darkness, I noticed that the clouds above us were actually a thunderstorm, and a nasty-looking one at that. I quickly had my optics adjust again so that they weren't as sensitive to light. While this caused my vision to become quite poor in the very dark setting, it was much better than becoming blinded by the flash of a lightning strike that I knew was likely going to come soon.

"Don't let your optics adjust to the dark." I said to Arcee, making sure to keep my voice down to avoid gaining the attention of unfriendly audio receptors. We may have been alone for the moment, but we were on a stealth mission, it couldn't hurt to watch how loudly I spoke.

"There's a thunderstorm above us, I know." Arcee replied in a similar tone, and started walking towards the shadows of what must have been a tree-line about fifty meters in front of us.

I followed Arcee and quickly caught up with her. "Ironhide and your sisters are in this direction?" I asked.

I saw the femme I was in love with nod in the dim light just as we got to the tree-line. "Yes, they're on the opposite side of the island from us, so the fastest way to get to them is to cut through the jungle." Arcee responded, folding her wing-like appendages against her backplates and ducking under a log resting against a tree.

"So, if we encounter Decepticons we can't sneak past, what's our plan?" I asked, stepping over the log Arcee ducked under and continuing forward.

"Shadow', the thing you need to know about stealth missions is that you never plan ahead. If you find yourself in that situation, you come up with a plan on the fly." Arcee replied as she folded her wing-like appendages again and slipped between a pair of boulders.

"So we're winging it right now," I concluded as I climbed up and over the boulders, since I was too large to slip between them, and set myself down next to Arcee on the other side.

"_Cautiously_ winging it," Arcee corrected humorously as she turned and gave me a smile, causing my spark to skip a few beats.

"And who else, beyond Ironhide and your sisters, should we expect to find onboard the ship?" I asked, ignoring the fluttering of my spark while I stepped over a fallen tree and continued following Arcee.

I saw Arcee give a shrug. "Impossible to say," she replied. "Elita and Chromia were the commander and SIC of a special ops unit made up almost entirely of femmes when Cybertron was evacuated, there's a chance that a few of them are onboard, a small chance, but still a chance." She paused for a moment to move some vines that were in her path before she continued.

"Ironhide's a Wrecker, their third-in-command in fact, so a few of the Wreckers under his command or some Wrecker-trainees might be traveling with him and my sisters. But like I said, it's impossible to know for certain." She concluded with another shrug.

"I see," I said simply, and then started my best to search the surrounding jungle for any signs of Decepticon activity.

Arcee and I continued on in complete silence, only the sounds of our pedes hitting the ground or an occasional rumble of thunder above us broke the calm of the jungle.

And that had me nervous.

Unlike Jasper, this area of Earth was in the middle of its wet season. The jungle should have been alive with the croaking of frogs, the rustling of leaves, and the cries of various animals calling out to each other. But it was totally quiet. It was like every animal in the jungle had crawled into a hole and died, or were hiding from something that spooked them. And I had a bad feeling that something wasn't the thunderstorm above Arcee and I.

"Something's wrong, it's way too quiet." Arcee said, bringing me out of, as well as voicing, my thoughts.

"Agreed," I said, still looking around at the jungle around us. "It's like the jungle's dead, I haven't heard anything else except our pedes hitting the ground and thunder from the storm."

"Not only is the jungle silent, but I haven't seen or heard a single Con ship since we got here, I find that to be very unusual, as well as unsettling." Arcee added in a puzzled tone as she jumped over a wide stream that we found in our direct path.

I took one large step and walked over the stream. "I can understand the lack of Decepticons being unusual considering the size of the ship pursuing your sisters and Ironhide, but why is that unsettling to you?" I asked, giving the femme I had fallen for a curious look.

"Because," she said. "You heard Optimus, an Adversary-class can carry anywhere from two to four thousand Cons onboard, but what he didn't tell Fowler is that a Cybertronian carrier functions in a manner very similar to a human aircraft carrier, only instead of fighters and helicopters, they deploy gunships and troop transports." She paused and looked back at me.

"And a single Adversary-class is supposed to be carrying a few hundred of each, but if there were that many onboard this carrier, than they would be swarming in the sky like angry bees," she said, making me smile slightly at her use of a human idiom before she continued. "So, it's clear to me that this Adversary-class has been modified to carry something other than what normal carriers would."

Her words immediately made sense to me. "So you're unsettled by not knowing what that Adversary-class is carrying instead of gunships and troop transports." I said, more of a statement than a question.

Arcee nodded. "Exactly, whoever the commanding officer of this Adversary-class is, they obviously think whatever they modified the carrier to carry was worth sacrificing the capability of carrying enough gunships to take out a small dreadnought." She replied, giving the sky a nervous glance before she looked back ahead of her.

I was about to ask another question, but I was cut off by a flash of lightning that turned the darkness around us into day for a split micro-klick before we were surrounded by the darkness again. The flash of lightning was quickly followed by a deafening crack of thunder that shook the ground beneath the pedes of Arcee and I.

And that was when the thunderstorm above us opened up, and it started to rain. And I mean rain.

It hadn't even been raining for more than five micro-klicks before water was flowing off my frame like a waterfall, and I found it a little hard to see because of all the rain that was falling onto my faceplate, as well as every other part of my chassis.

I looked over at Arcee and saw that she was in a similar state, with water flowing over every square inch of surface available on her lithe frame.

Arcee comically squirted water out of her mouth turned to me with an amused look in her optics. "Well, at least we won't need to visit the washracks after this mission," she said with a chuckle.

I chuckled as well. "That's only true for you, I'll still need to clean out my bad shoulder-joint after this," I said as we started to walk forward again.

"That's your own fault, I wasn't shot with a Nucleon." Arcee teased as she planted a servo on a rock-ledge that came up above her hips and gracefully leapt onto it.

I rolled my optics and smiled at her teasing as I stepped up onto the rock-ledge. "That wasn't my fault, it was the boulder's." I protested playfully.

"Whatever helps you recharge at night, Shadow'." Arcee replied as she briefly walked backwards and gave me a quick smirk before turning around again.

"Now you're just trying to make fun of me," I said, looking up as the sky flashed with lightning and thunder cracked in the air again.

"Who? Me? I would never do that," Arcee said with a gasp, as if she was hurt by my statement, but it was quite obvious she was joking.

"Uh-huh," I said sarcastically. "Sure you wouldn't."

Arcee likely was going to continue our banter, but anything she might have said was drowned out, because the micro-klick I finished speaking, a gunship that looked like a miniature version of the Nemesis flew over Arcee and I and disappeared behind a cliff we were walking toward.

"It's about time the Cons made an appearance," I said, a serious tone replacing the mirth from our previous banter.

"And it's about time we picked up the pace." Arcee said, and without another word, started to run toward the cliff ahead of us.

I ran after Arcee and caught up after a few moments, but I didn't say anything once I reached her, no words were necessary. The Decepticons had arrived, and that meant we needed to find our fellow Autobots and leave this island as fast as possible.

Arcee and I reached the cliff just a few micro-klicks after the Decepticon gunship flew over us. We both started climbing at the same time, but Arcee quickly left me behind since she was much faster and more agile than I was. And in a very short period of time, she reached the top of the cliff and looked over the ledge, and from what I could make out in the darkness, a shocked look formed on her faceplate.

Once I had joined Arcee at the top of the cliff, who did indeed have a shocked look on her faceplate, I looked over the ledge as well. I instantly saw why Arcee was shocked. Decepticons, were everywhere.

The sky was filled with at least two dozen gunships like the one that flew over Arcee and I, each one armed to the teeth with missile pods and energy cannons.

On the ground itself, there were hundreds of Decepticons spread out across the area in front of us. Most were standing in ranks, but there were some who were shouting out orders and others who were moving massive crates that were no-doubt filled with ammo and weapons.

And just landing on the ground that was, despite the heavy rain, still smoking and burning from an airstrike from starship-grade weapons, or some kind of heavy ordnance carried by infantry, were six troop transports.

The troop transports were reminiscent of the Decepticon transports I had seen in War for Cybertron, with a mixture of aerodynamic curves and the ugly spikes Decepticon engineers seemed so fond of covering their hulls.

The transports finished landing and they opened the doors to their cargo compartments, and anywhere from fifteen to just four Decepticons stepped out of each troop transport and joined their comrades already on the ground.

The majority of the Decepticons that stepped off the transports were average soldiers, but I saw at least three Brutes step out of the transports as well as a few that were a class of Decepticon I had never seen before.

The new class of Deceptions were yellow in color and had a similar build as Heavy Soldiers, but instead of carrying an Ion Displacer, they were carrying around what looked like the Cybertronian version of a flamethrower, complete with a white pilot light that was visible on the barrel of their flamethrowers.

"Pyros, I hate Pyros." I heard Arcee whisper as she stared at the class of Decepticon that I hadn't seen before.

"What makes you hate them?" I asked quietly.

Arcee pointed her middle and index digits at a Pyro. "See those flamethrowers?" She asked in turn, and continued at my nod. "They spit out a stream of fire that burns at around sixty-thousand degrees kelvin. It'll melt through the armor of the average bot in a micro-klick, and your armor would only last a few extra micro-klicks. It's suicide to get up close and personal with Pyros. Period."

"Well," I said. "Remind me to shoot Pyros with my Nucleon from as far away as possible. I don't like being on fire, it tends to hurt." I joked, getting a small laugh out of Arcee while I searched for a way for us to get around all the Decepticons.

The area in front of us was obviously not an option since the Decepticons were using it as a staging ground and there was absolutely no cover.

And the parts of the jungle to the right and left of the Con staging area weren't options either since the Pyros that came off the transports were now using their flamethrowers on the jungle, reducing the trees to ash in nano-klicks and making the ground glow red hot.

So, our only remaining option was to go back the way we came and take the long way around to reach Ironhide and Arcee's sisters.

My thoughts were interrupted as the sound of helicopter blades and jet engines reached my audio receptors, which caused me to look up.

I looked up just in time to see a squadron of Brute Seekers and a pair of huge Cybertronian helicopters fly over Arcee and I, transform in mid-air, and land next to the troop transports.

The true forms of the Brute Seekers were much taller, and much thinner, than their ground-based counterparts. The missile pods that had previously been mounted under their wings were now attached to their shoulder-joints. And their duel chainguns were now on the sides of their servos in manner similar to Springer's chaingun.

But I didn't pay all that much attention to the Brute Seekers. What really grabbed by attention, were the two Decepticon helicopters that arrived with the Brutes.

Each of the helicopters stood at least five times the height of all the other Decepticons around them. The rotors of their helicopter forms had folded themselves on their backplates to prevent any restriction of their servos, but they lacked the sword that Springer had on his backplates. On each of their servos, there were two Nucleons scaled up to their massive size. And each shoulder-joint had a double-barrel energy cannon attached. In essence, the helicopters had enough firepower to level an entire human city within a few klicks.

"Pryos, Brute Seekers, and Annihilators." Arcee said, staring incredulously at the helicopters which were now identified as Annihilators. "We're in deep slag if they start searching the jungle in force. We need to find my sisters and Ironhide and get back to base while the Cons are occupied by setting up their staging area."

"Agreed, but the most direct path to them isn't safe for us to use anymore. And the Pyros are clearing out what's left of the jungle up here," I said, pointing first at the Decepticon staging area and then at where the Pyros were incinerating the trees on either side of the staging area. "So we're going to have to take the long way around the island."

Arcee nodded. "Same conclusion I reached." She said, and let go of the cliff without another word. She landed on the ground below in a crouch and then looked up at me as if to say, 'Your turn.'

I acknowledged her unspoken words with a nod, and let go of the cliff. Following her example, I landed in a crouch as I hit the ground, though my landing made a lot more noise than when she landed, likely because she had been conducting stealth missions for far longer than humanity had been civilized.

"Come on," Arcee said not even a micro-klick after I landed on the ground. "We need to move," she then turned and ran into the jungle in a different direction than we arrived.

I stood from my crouch and ran after Arcee, and caught up with her a few micro-klicks later as she vaulted over a log and jumped over a crevice in the ground that was overflowing with water from the thunderstorm.

After jumping over both the log and the crevice, I fell in step with Arcee and looked over at her.

"How much further are your sisters and Ironhide?" I asked, ducking slightly to avoid hitting my helm on a tree branch.

"A few kilometers beyond the Con staging area," she replied. "So, with luck this detour won't be a long one."

"Hopefully," I agreed, and then fell silent.

Arcee also fell silent and soon the only thing making any noise was the thunderstorm above us.

After we had run through the jungle for a couple of klicks, Arcee suddenly slid to a stop just as we were passing a group of boulders that were clustered closely together. This caused me to run passed her before I slid to a stop as well and looked back at the femme I had fallen for.

She was looking up at the trees around us with a look on concentration on her faceplate, like she was listening for something.

Instead of asking what she was hearing, I remained silent. If Arcee heard anything I needed to know, she would tell me, no point in asking something and breaking her concentration.

A micro-klick later, Arcee's optics flew open and she gave me a serious look.

"Hide!" She somehow yelled and whispered over to me before she moved to the group of boulders and ducked into a gap between them.

I didn't have time to ask her what was going on before I heard what she had, the sound of helicopter rotors. And since the only helicopters on this island were Decepticons, that meant Annihilators were coming towards us.

Following Arcee's advice, I searched for a place to hide as lightning and thunder flashed in the sky and cracked the air.

The trees weren't thick enough for me to effectively hide behind, and even if they were, the Annihilators were far taller than the trees. So it would be pointless to use the trees as a hiding spot when the bots you're hiding from could just look over them.

The sound helicopter rotors cutting the air got louder as I looked over at the cluster of boulders Arcee had ducked into to see if I could hide there as well. But it was clear I wasn't going to be able to use the boulders either. The gap Arcee used to get between the boulders was far too small for me to use. And I didn't see another gap in the boulders besides the one she used.

It sounded like the Annihilators were getting really close as I looked away from the boulders and continued searching for a place to hide.

Lightning illuminated the area around me and, in that brief moment, allowed me to see what appeared to be a sinkhole out of my peripheral vision.

Not wasting a moment, I ran over to where I saw the sink hole and let my optics adjust to the darkness just enough to let me see the sinkhole's basic features.

The sinkhole was small, just barely large enough for a mech my size to fit inside it, and it was acting like a drain for the jungle floor, with so much water flowing into it that it looked like a circular waterfall. And after a brief micro-klick, it become clear to me that the sinkhole wasn't actually a sinkhole, but instead the entrance to an old mine.

My examination of my potential hiding spot was cut short as the rotor blades of the Annihilators got even louder and the wind abruptly picked up.

They were directly above me.

I jumped into the mine entrance without another thought, and immediately lost what light I had at the surface.

A very brief moment of free-falling later, I landed in a few feet of water and I tried to move away from the entrance I had just jumped down. But, my backplates hit a wall of rock before I had even moved out from underneath the water cascading down from the entrance above me.

I started to feel my way around the walls of the mine I had fallen into, but I instantly froze at the sound of at least two Cybertronians transforming out of alt mode, and the slight shake of the ground I felt shortly after hearing the transformations.

The Annihilators had landed.

**"This planet is so small,"** I heard the booming voice of an Annihilator growl in Cybertronian. **"Even Triax is bigger than this useless rock,"** he said, referring to the smallest of Cybertron's seven moons.

**"It's not useless,"** I heard the voice of another Annihilator say. **"Didn't you hear Commander Shockwave? This planet is rich in almost every kind of energon. Not only that, Lord Megatron himself is somewhere on this planet with the Nemesis."**

**"Hmph,"** The first Annihilator scoffed. **"If this planet is so rich in energon, then why is there only water wherever I look?"** He asked, though it sounded more like a statement of dismissal than an actual question.

The second Annihilator, who seemed to be the smarter of the two, answered anyway. **"Because Lord Megatron wouldn't stay at this planet for as long as he has without a very good reason,"** he said.

The first Annihilator responded to his fellow Decepticon's reasoning by growling something incoherent and changing the topic. **"So where's the Autobot ship we shot down?"** He asked. **"I wanna shoot something."**

**"If I knew that, then we wouldn't still be looking for their ship, now would we?"** The second Annihilator asked with a slightly dry tone. **"Come on, let's search this area already."**

The two Annihilators fell silent at those last words from the second Decepticon. And I could both hear and feel the two Annihilators walking around the area above me.

After they walked around for a few klicks, one of the Annihilators stepped right above the mine I was hiding in and, judging by the very faint red light that appeared, looked down the entrance.

**"Any Autoscum down there?"** The voice of the first Annihilator boomed down the entrance, apparently not able to see me.

But even though it seemed like he couldn't see me, I didn't even think about moving a millimeter as long as the Annihilator was looking down into my hiding place. I was standing at the bottom of the entrance to a mine that for all I knew was filled in now, so I had no room to maneuver. If the Annihilator somehow saw me, I would be as helpless as a fish in a barrel.

I felt the Annihilator's optics looking at me for a few more micro-klicks before I heard, and felt, the massive Decepticon walk away.

'That was way too close for my liking,' I thought as I let out a quiet sigh of relief. 'Now, if only they'd actually leave so Arcee and I can find her sisters and Ironhide.'

Almost immediately after that thought went through my processor, the second Annihilator spoke up.

**"I haven't found anything. What about you, Whirlwind?"** He asked the other Annihilator now identified as Whirlwind.

**"Nothing! Just trees, rocks, mud, and a lot of water!"** Whirlwind replied in a disappointed voice that was a borderline pout. **"No ship, no Autoscum, not even one fragging native for me to blow up!"**

The second Annihilator sighed at the words of his fellow Decepticon. **"Then come on,"** he said. **"We have three more sets of coordinates to check for the Autobots before we report to Commander Shockwave."**

With those last words, I heard both Annihilators transform back into their alt modes and fly away.

A few micro-klicks after the Annihilators flew away, I heard Arcee's voice carry down to where I was standing.

"Shadow'? You down there?" She asked in a hushed voice that was barely loud enough to reach my audio receptors.

"Yeah, I'm here." I replied, looking up and seeing Arcee's azure optics and the faint outline of her helm at the entrance to the mine.

"Was this the best hiding place you could find?" Arcee teased. "I mean, a mine entrance? Really?"

I rolled my optics at her teasing. "Well, it was either this or standing out in the open, I choose this." I replied, giving her a small smile that she couldn't see.

"Fair enough," the blue and pink femme said before I saw a more professional look come into her optics. "Joking aside, you see anything down there that might be useful?" She asked.

I looked away from Arcee and let my optics adjust to the total darkness of the bottom of the entrance. And a brief moment later, the mine became clear as day.

The area in front of me was a very large mining tunnel that was about one-hundred feet wide and had a ceiling that would have been several feet above my helm if I stood at its apex. And the tunnel itself went on as far as I could see in either direction.

To my embarrassment, I realized that the rock wall my backplates had hit earlier was actually the side of the mining tunnel. If I had moved forward instead of moving backwards, I wouldn't have even been standing under the entrance when the Annihilator looked down here.

I switched my optics back to their earlier setting and looked up at Arcee again. "The mining tunnel is more than large enough for us to use it. And the tunnel goes in the direction we're heading anyway." I said.

"How far does the tunnel go on for?" Arcee asked, azure optics disappearing for as she looked away for a brief moment, likely to make sure there weren't any Decepticons in the area, before she looked back at me.

"I don't know for certain," I replied, shrugging even though Arcee could only see my optics. "But I can't see an end to the tunnel in either direction I look."

Arcee was silent for a brief micro-klick. "Clear out," she said simply.

Understanding what she was about to do, I stepped out from underneath the mine entrance and allowed my optics to adjust to the light again.

A micro-klick later, Arcee landed in a crouch where I stood just a moment ago.

The femme I had fallen for stood from her crouch and looked around the mining tunnel. She apparently let her optics fully adjust to the light before she jumped down the mine entrance, since she looked right at me.

"Nice find, Shadow'. We won't have to worry about Decepticon patrols as much while we're down here," she complimented, then gestured to the tunnel to my left with a nod of her helm. "Let's move."

I nodded and started running down the mining tunnel, with Arcee close behind me.

A comfortable silence quickly descended on the two of us. A silence that was only broken by our pedes splashing the water, or when we occasionally came to a blockage in the tunnel and had to come up with a plan to get through it.

About twenty-five klicks, and several instances where we had to clear out the mining tunnel, later, the mining tunnel opened up into an enormous cavern where the ceiling was more than twice my height, and the walls were no longer visible.

"Humans didn't mine this area," Arcee said, looking down at the floor of the tunnel while we continued to run. "Cybertronian mining equipment dug out this place."

I gave her a curious look. "How can you tell?" I asked.

Arcee and I slowly came to a stop and she pointed a digit at the tunnel floor. "See how the ground's smooth?" She asked.

I crouched and examined the floor where Arcee pointed. I quickly saw that the floor was indeed smooth - smooth to the point that the entire floor was as flat as a granite countertop. Which was appropriate, considering the floor itself was an iridescent granite similar in appearance to the highly-sought Labradorite from Madagascar.

"Yes," I responded after I had examined the floor for a few moments. "Human mining equipment couldn't have cleared this large of an area, at least, not as cleanly as this area has been cleared."

"Exactly," Arcee said. "Only a Cybertronian Mining Laser could've cleared out so much rock so cleanly," she looked up and gestured to the ceiling. "And the ceiling's just as smooth as the floor."

I followed her line of sight and saw that the ceiling was indeed as smooth as the floor. "So, why are the Decepticons clearing out the mining tunnels down here?" I asked, more talking to myself than speaking to Arcee.

She answered anyway. "The Cons are making an underground base," she said matter-of-factly.

I raised an optic ridge and looked over at Arcee. "So, you've seen this before?" I asked.

"Yeah, I've seen underground bases on other planets that were built both by Autobots and Decepticons. And the building process always starts with clearing out massive amounts of earth. It also isn't uncommon for the engineers of Bots or Cons to start where a planet's native race has already created a mine, exhausted the minerals they were searching for, and then left." Arcee answered as she looked around the cavern.

"If they're clearing out a massive area in order to create an underground base, then why aren't there any Decepticon engineers in the area? Or Decepticons in general?" I asked, taking note of the absence of mining equipment and guards.

The answer didn't come from Arcee.

"Dat's 'cause da Cons are still usin' their Minin' Laser 'bout five miles to our left. Although, they are currently experiencin' some... Technical difficulties, with their equipment." A mech's calm voice suddenly said from behind Arcee and I.

I whipped around and deployed my Scatter-Blaster and aimed at the mech that was standing about ten meters away.

The mech didn't flinch at the sight of the Scatter-Blaster I was pointing at him, he just calmly stood there and looked at what I could only guess was an important piece of the Mining Laser before he sub-spaced it. He wasn't a tall mech, at about twenty-three feet tall, he was two feet shorter than Arcee. The mech's primary color was silver, but he also had red and blue accents on most of his frame, although the accents were most noticeable when they were on his servos. A blue visor covered his optics, so I had no idea what color his optics were. But, I had a feeling they were blue, because not only did he faintly resemble Jazz from the first Transformers movie, but he had an Autobot symbol on his chestplates.

I immediately lowered my Scatter-Blaster when I noticed the symbol. "My apologies, there are far too many Decepticons around here to not be on your guard." I said as I returned my servo to its normal function.

The mech I suspected was Jazz shrugged. "Normal reaction when in enemy territory. And Ah'd only have been mad if ya fired," he said with a smile, then looked over at Arcee. "Now here's a faceplate Ah haven' seen in a long time. Nice ta see you again, Arcee."

The blue and pink femme gave a small smile. "Nice to see you too, Jazz," she said. "I see you've already downloaded Earth's languages."

The mech that was now confirmed to be Jazz widened his smile. "O' course Ah did, and what interestin' languages 'dis world has. Ah like their music, too." He said, then turned back to me. "Now, ya goin' ta introduce your tall partner, here? Or are ya just gonna let me guess his name?" He joked.

Arcee's smile turned into an amused grin and she shook her helm. "Jazz, this is my partner, Shadowstreaker. Shadow', this is Jazz." She said, gesturing from Jazz to me and back to Jazz. It wasn't surprising to hear Arcee introduce me as her partner, we were paired up for missions enough that we were pretty much partners already, we just weren't officially partners. At least, until just now, I guess.

"Nice ta meet ya, Shadowster'." Jazz said, putting out a servo for me to shake. It was hard to tell because of the visor, but I was pretty sure Jazz was interested to see Arcee use her usual nickname for me, but he didn't comment on it.

"Shadowster'?" I asked with a with a slight smile and a raised optic ridge as I reached out and shook the smaller mech's servo.

"Well, your full name is a bit too long ta use on da fly," Jazz said, apparently already fond of human idioms. "And Ah can't call ya 'Shadow'', since Arcee over there already claimed it. So, Ah'm calling ya Shadowster' from now on. Ya don' mind, do ya?"

I chuckled. "No, no I don't. Nicknames's don't bother me." I said as I let go of his servo. While it was true that I hadn't been bothered by Arcee referring to me by a nickname, that might have only been because it was Arcee using the nickname. But Jazz didn't need to know that.

Jazz laughed. "Good, 'cause Ah woulda used my nickname for ya either way," he said in a tone that I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, before he turned back to Arcee. "Ah'm guessing 'dat da two o' you are gonna be our ride outta here?" He asked, then continued at Arcee's nod. "Then follow me, Ah know how to get to da ship." Without another word, he turned and ran back the way Arcee and I had just came from.

Arcee and I shared a confused look before we ran after Jazz.

"This is the opposite direction that I feel Ironhide and my sisters," Arcee said as we caught up with Jazz.

"'Dat may be, but the other side o' da cavern doesn' have a tunnel that leads ta where our ship crashed," he paused in his explanation as he slid to a stop a little beyond the border of where the tunnel ended, and the cavern began. "Here we are," he said, more to himself than us, before continuing.

"Now, as far as Ah can tell," he said as for some reason he crouched and looked at the tunnel wall closely. "'Dis place used to be home ta some human military group 'dat didn' wanna be found, 'cause da place is filled with hidden passages." He looked at one spot on the tunnel wall twice. "Ah." He said, no trace of the southern drawl he had been using, and pressed a digit against a seemingly meaningless rock that was a slightly different color than every other rock on the wall.

There was a hiss like an air-tight seal being broken, and a fifty-by-fifty section of the tunnel wall started to move to the side with the sound of poorly-maintained gears, as well as a generator that was on its last leg.

Once the false-wall had moved a few feet, I saw what was on the other side.

The area that was hidden behind the false-wall was a large storage hanger, filled with human machinery that looked to be at least fifty orbital-cycles old. Human tanks also lined either side of the hanger, their once top-of-the-line armor now so worn and rusted that the tanks were more red than their original grey color.

Looking closely at one of the tanks as the three of us stepped into the hanger, I saw the ever-familiar symbol of a hammer and sickle overlapping each other.

"This place is a Soviet relic from the Cold War," I observed as Jazz pressed a button next to the false-wall, causing it to start closing again.

"Cold War? What does bein' cold have ta do with war?" Jazz asked with a raised optic ridge, while Arcee gave me a curious look.

I waited for the false-wall to close with a boom that echoed throughout the hanger before answering. "Being cold has nothing to do with the Cold War," I said as Jazz led us further into the hanger. "The Cold War is what humans call a period of time, equal to about half a vorn, in which there was intense political and military tension between the two most powerful countries on Earth at the time, The United States and the Soviet Union. But the Cold War never led to direct warfare between the two countries, they just made more and more weapons to point at each other."

"What da ya mean they just made more weapons ta point at each other?" Jazz asked as he gave me a curious look.

"At the time, the United States and Soviet Union were the only countries on Earth that knew how to create nuclear weapons. And they hated each other for several reasons, but the most notable is that they both wanted to be the dominate military power on the planet, and they didn't want to share that power with the other. So, to out-do the other, the United States and Soviet Union started an arms race. They used a large percentage of their economies to improve the quality and increase the quantity of their nuclear stockpiles. They kept making more and more nuclear arsenals, as well as creating new technologies, until both sides had tens of thousands of nuclear warheads."

Jazz interrupted there. "Wait a klick, they kept makin' nukes until they both had enough ta turn Earth ta ash ten times over?" He asked, and scoffed at my nod. "Dat's just stupid. Anyway, continue, Shadowster'."

"It was stupid," I agreed. "Anyway, they pretty much just kept building nuclear weapons and developing new technologies until the Soviet Union finally collapsed because the strain on its economy was too much to continue." I concluded.

Arcee looked at me with a confused look on her face. "So, the Cold War was a war that didn't lead to war?" She asked, and shook her helm at my nod. "I wish our war was like that." She said with a tone of sadness that I only heard because of how well I knew her.

"Yeah, me too, Arcee." I said to her quietly as I put a servo on her shoulder-joint and gave her a reassuring look, which she acknowledged with a grateful look and a nod before I let my servo fall back to my side.

Even though Jazz wasn't even looking at Arcee and I, I had a strange feeling that he was smiling like he just confirmed a suspicion. Although, I didn't know why I got that feeling, or why Jazz would be suspicious of anything, so I shrugged off the strange feeling as Jazz continued leading us into the hanger.

The three of us soon came to the end of the hanger, but Jazz turned left and pressed another button similar to one he pressed to have the false-wall move back into place. And another fifty-by-fifty foot section of the wall moved to the side to reveal another hanger that continued on in the direction Arcee felt her sisters and Ironhide.

"How'd you even find these hidden passages?" I asked as we stepped into the second hanger and waited for Jazz to find the button to close the false-wall.

"Ah'm a Spec Ops Saboteur, it's my job ta find things dat are meant ta stay hidden." Jazz replied as he found and hit the button that caused the wall to start moving back into place.

"How many more do we have to go through to get to the others?" Arcee asked.

"It kinda zig-zags before we get ta da ship. So, we have 'bout six more passages and four miles ta go through before we get ta da ship." Jazz answered, and then gestured for us to follow him. "So, come on, younglin's! We got some walkin' ta do!" He said with a smile, and then started walking down the second hanger.

I sighed as Arcee and I started following Jazz again, all this walking was starting to annoy me.

* * *

><p>About fifteen klicks of walking through different parts of the old Soviet base, which I admit was interesting, we rounded a corner and finally arrived where the Autobot ship crashed.<p>

The area the ship crashed was yet another hanger. Although, it was probably five times larger than any of the other hangers we walked through to get here.

Off to our right, there was makeshift metal barricade in front of a giant hole in the wall. Giving it a closer look, I saw that the hole was man-made for the purpose of allowing human jets to fly in and out of an unusually large sea cave, judging by the rumble of thunder and the sound of waves hitting rocks I heard coming from the man-made hole.

To our left, was the Autobot ship. Well, what was left of the Autobot ship.

The vessel was a little less than half the length of the Decepticon stealth frigate I saw a few jours ago. But instead of having the spikes and sharp angles of the usual Decepticon ship, the Autobot ship was clearly designed to look aesthetically pleasing to the optic, with smooth angles that gave it an almost organic appearance. Like the ship itself was a living thing.

Unfortunately, the elegant ship was torn almost in half, with both of its two decks visible through multiple breaches in its hull.

I looked down and saw that the ship had also gouged a path through the floor when it had crashed into the hanger, more than likely wrecking even more parts of the ship. But, I was confused by how the ship even got in the hanger since there wasn't a hole in the top of the hanger that the ship most certainly would have created if it had crashed through the ceiling.

With a start, I realized that the ship must have gotten into the hanger by flying through the sea cave before it came to rest where it did now.

'An intergalactic hole-in-one... Huh,' I thought as I saw three mechs suddenly step around the metal barricade.

The two tallest of the three mechs were about three feet taller than Ratchet and were identical in every way except what color their paint was, with one being red and the other being yellow.

The third mech was as tall as Ratchet and was white and blue in color. He also had a... Younger looking faceplate, like he was fresh out of training. Or, like I remember my brothers referring to new members of their unit, he was green. Which was probably similar to how I looked back in May.

Although, I knew for a fact that I wasn't as giddy back then as this mech was now. He was practically bouncing on his pedes in excitement, a clear sign he was eager to fight, never an attitude you wanted on the battlefield.

"Oh, slag... Not these two..." I heard Arcee mumble under her breath as the three mechs approached us.

I wasn't curious why Arcee said that, I remembered her describing the rude behavior of a set of twins when Wheeljack's imposter was at our base. And since I heard Arcee say something under her breath when Springer arrived that was similar to what she just mumbled, that meant that the twin mechs were likely Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Fantastic.

The red mech I believed was either Sunstreaker or Sideswipe wolf-whistled when he saw Arcee, which caused my left optic to twitch, which in turn was noticed by Jazz. Frag.

"Well, look at this," the red mech said. "After several thousand centi-vorns, we're finally reunited with Arcee. I hope you didn't miss us too much, beautiful." He finished with a sly smile, although thankfully his smile didn't carry an air of sleazyness like Springer's did.

"I missed you and Sunstreaker like cosmic rust," Arcee said with a tone that was more annoyed than hostile, unlike when she first spoke to Springer in the Sahara.

The red mech that must have been Sideswipe feigned being shot in the chestplates. "That hurts, Arcee. That hurt me right here." He tapped his servo on the portion of his chestplates that was above his spark, then looked over at his yellow twin that could have only been Sunstreaker. "Didn't her words hurt you too, Sunny?"

Sunstreaker gave his twin a glare. "Don't call me that!" He yelled.

Sideswipe smiled at the angry look his twin was giving him. "Why not? You call me 'Sides' all the time, so why can't I call you 'Sunny', Sunny?"

"Stop calling me that! And we've been over this, it's because I'm the older brother. And older brothers get to call their younger brothers whatever the frag they want." Sunstreaker replied, voice now more annoyed than angry, but the glare remained plastered on his faceplate.

"You're only like two klicks older than me!" Sideswipe protested. "And that has nothing to do with why you say I can't call you nicknames!"

"It has everything to do with it," Sunstreaker said. "Younger brothers are supposed to obey their older brothers."

"That isn't what carrier always told us when we were growing up," Sideswipe said.

"Nope," Sunstreaker responded. "It's what _I'm_ telling you _now_."

I looked over at Arcee as the conversation between the twins became less of a conversation, and more of a pointless squabble between siblings. "Are they always like this?" I asked.

"You have no idea," Arcee replied quietly.

The white and blue mech that hadn't spoken yet looked between Sunstreaker and Sideswipe for a few micro-klicks before he slowly crept towards Arcee, Jazz, and I and turned his attention to Arcee.

"So, you're really the famous Arcee?" He asked in an excited tone, like he was a human boy meeting a player from his favorite baseball team. Strangely enough, the unnamed mech sounded exactly like Nolan North, the voice actor who played... Well, pretty much a character in every major video game... Ever.

Arcee raised an optic ridge at the unnamed mech's tone and looked over at Jazz. "Who's this?" She asked. "I've never met him before."

"My name's Smokescreen, member of the Cybertron Elite Guard!" The mech now known as Smokescreen answered cheerfully. "So, it is really true that you ripped off an Insecticon's helm with your bare servos?" He asked. "Or that you once stormed a Decepticon base by yourself? Or how you punched a Heavy Soldier until he went offline? Or that you once broke out of Kaon Prison by breaking down your cell door and stealing a troop transport?" His voice steadily got more and more excited as the things he said started to become ridiculous. "Or that you once offlined a Destroyer with nothing but a single Stun Grenade?! Or, or that you offlined two Brutes with one bullet?! Or, or, or that you once destroyed a Decepticon war cruiser with a heavily damaged gunship?!" He finally concluded, voice so excited that his tone suited a youngling better than a full-grown mech. And he somehow looked out of breath, which was impressive considering how Cybertronians didn't require air.

Silence descended on the six of us after Smokescreen finished speaking.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, who had stopped their bickering to listen to Smokescreen's lengthy barrage of questions, stared at the white and blue mech incredulously, clearly shocked that he managed to ask so many questions in such a short amount of time.

Jazz was smiling, like the saboteur knew Smokescreen was going to do something like this, and found it absolutely hilarious.

Arcee was giving the white and blue mech in front of her a blank look, she was obviously surprised by how Smokescreen asked her so many questions, and how his behavior was like that of... Well, a human fanboy.

After the silence carried on for several micro-klicks, I turned and gave Arcee a dry look. "I believe you have a fan, Arcee." I said with a tone that was even dryer than the look I was giving her.

Sideswipe looked over at me. "Who are _you_?" He asked, as if he just now noticed my presence, which wasn't surprising since he had been either staring at Arcee, arguing with his twin, or looking at Smokescreen incredulously.

"Did you _seriously_ not notice him standing there, Sides?" Sunstreaker asked as he looked over at Sideswipe in amazement, likely surprised by his twin's lack of observation skills.

Sideswipe looked at Sunstreaker and stared at him for a moment. "Yes," he admitted shamelessly.

"You're such a dumbaft..." Sunstreaker said with a shake of his helm.

Sideswipe opened his mouth to shout a retort, but Jazz moved forward and got between the two brothers. "Whoa, now." The saboteur said. "Da two of ya have done enough fightin' for one night, wouldn' ya say?"

"We can't fight enough." Came the immediate, synchronized response from the twins as they both looked down at Jazz.

Jazz ignored the words of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. "Now dat Ah've successfully kept ya from fightin' again," he said, then gestured to me. "Twins, Smokescreen, 'dis here is Shadowstreaker, he's Arcee's partner and da the heavy weapons specialist for the Autobots on Earth." He introduced me to the other three mechs.

I was surprised when he told them my role on Earth, I hadn't even told him that when Arcee introduced us, so his observation skills must have been very, very good. I was going to be careful around Jazz from now on, if he could tell I was the heavy weapons specialist just by looking at me, then he could easily become the third bot to find out how I felt about Arcee, if I wasn't careful that is.

Smokescreen looked over at me after Jazz spoke. "I, uh... I've never heard of you," he said as he scratched the top of his helm, then looked at the silver mark on either side of my helm. "But, that symbol kinda looks like some of the ones I've seen in the book Alpha Trion was always writing in... Is there some kinda story behind how you got it?" He asked in a genuinely curious tone.

I ignored the second part of his statement for a moment as I focused on what Smokescreen said about Alpha Trion. "You worked with Alpha Trion?" I asked.

Smokescreen nodded. "Yeah, I was in charge of keeping Alpha Trion safe during the final cycles of the war. It was really boring to play bodyguard instead of fighting the Decepticons!" He slammed his servos together before letting them fall to his sides. "But, the old mech turned out to be a really good teacher, and he always seemed to have another story to tell." He finished explaining, then looked back at the silver mark on my helm. "So... _Is_there a story behind that mark?" He asked, repeating his previous question.

Since my question had been answered, I answered his, albeit with a cryptic tone. "You have no idea."

After I didn't elaborate, Smokescreen opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his lips when we all noticed four more Autobots approaching from the ship.

Of the four other Autobots, three of them were femmes. And two of them looked similar to Arcee.

They both lacked Arcee's wing-like appendages, and one was slightly taller than Arcee and was rose red in color white accents. While the other was slightly shorter than the femme I was in love with, and also was a lighter shade of blue and had purple accents.

The third femme was mostly orange in color, with red accents and an Autobot symbol on her chestplates. And at just twenty feet tall, the third femme was barely any taller than Cyberfrost. She also seemed to be in the same age group as Bumblebee, a youngling forced to become a soldier to stand against the Decepticons. But I would have to ask Bumblebee to be certain.

The only mech of the group of four was mostly red in color, with black accents on his shoulder-joints and faceplate, which had several lines on scaring on it. And he was simply massive. He was three feet taller than I was, or fifteen feet taller than Prowl and Jetfire and just three feet shorter than Optimus, and he was almost as almost as wide as he was tall. But unlike Bulkhead, who looked... Well, fat, this mech looked much more fit, more like a Cybertronian athlete and less like a sumo wrestler. His right servo had a cannon attached that faintly resembled a Fusion Cannon with a larger barrel, and his left servo had what to me looked like a Thermo Missile Launcher on steriods. In all, he was a very intimidating mech.

It was obvious to me that the first two femmes were Chromia and Elita-One, and the mountain of a mech behind them was Ironhide. But, I didn't know who the femme walking next to them was. I guess I was going to find out soon.

I looked over at Arcee, and saw that the femme that normally had her emotions in check was smiling at her sisters and had a single tear of joy running down her faceplate.

Arcee started to walk out to meet her sisters and Ironhide at the half-way point between us and the ship. But she hadn't even taken three steps before she broke out into a run, letting out an uncharacteristic squeal of happiness as she quickly reached the sisters she hadn't seen in centi-vorns and crushed them in a hug.

Ironhide leaned down and wrapped his own servos around the reunited sisters in his own hug as Arcee ran into Elita and Chromia.

I smiled at the sight of Arcee being reunited with her sisters, while the third femme paused for a moment before she continued walking toward the rest of us. Even though Arcee didn't talk about them much, I knew how much it hurt Arcee to be separated from them, it was nice to see her finally being reunited with them.

'And be comforted by them at a level you will only be able to dream about,' a voice in the back of my processor said, but I ignored it. I already knew my love for Arcee wasn't going to be returned, and I didn't need my own CPU reminding me of that fact.

I continued watching the three reunited sisters and Ironhide for several micro-klicks, without letting my smile fall from my faceplate. At least, until Sunstreaker and Sideswipe opened their mouths.

"Did you hear Arcee's squeal? She sounded like a femmling that's still in the academy!" Sideswipe said, laughing quietly as he made fun of the way Arcee expressed her happiness at being reunited with her sisters.

"Yeah," Sunstreaker agreed with a chuckle. "A femmling-like squeal just doesn't suit a hot femme of her caliber-"

That was as far as Sunstreaker got, because both of my servos became flashes of black and I Gibbs slapped the back of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's helms before they could continue.

"Hey! Watch the paint!" Sunstreaker hissed, turning to send a fierce glare up at me as he and Sideswipe rubbed the back of their helms.

I returned Sunstreaker's glare with a calm, icy stare, which eventually caused him to back down. "Don't make fun of the way Arcee expressed her joy at seeing her sisters for the first time since the end of the war," I said, shifting my gaze between the two brothers. "How would you two feel if you were separated for thousands of centi-vorns?"

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe looked at each other, then looked at me. "We sure as slag wouldn't squeal like femmlings!" They replied simultaneously, then high-fived each other for their joke.

Seeing that the twins weren't going to see how they were wrong, I sighed and shook my helm and walked back over to where I had been standing, also catching a knowing look from Jazz as I walked by him.

'Well, so much for being careful around Jazz,' I thought as Arcee, her sisters, and Ironhide broke from their hug and started walking over to join the rest of us.

"We would have come out to join you all earlier," I heard the light blue femme say to Arcee once they were in hearing distance, then she turned and give Ironhide a light glare. "But _someone_ just had to sub-space _every single one_ of the cannons in the armory."

The massive red and black mech chuckled. "Well, I had ta save all my spare Riot Cannons, this is the fourth I've used in as many orbital-cycles." He said, gesturing to the Fusion Cannon-like weapon on his right servo. "And I couldn't leave all the Thermo Missile Cannons there, I may need ta replace old faithful here, soon." He finished, giving the cannon on his left servo a fond look.

I saw Arcee roll her optics. "I see that all these centi-vorns haven't changed you very much, Ironhide." She said as she turned and smiled up at Ironhide.

The red and white femme gave Arcee a dry look. "You have no idea, Little 'Cee." She said, then laughed lightly at the sour look Arcee gave her for the nickname.

"Why do you keep calling me that, Elita?" Arcee asked as she narrowed her optics at the femme who I now knew was Elita-One. "I outgrew that nickname back when I was a youngling. And I've been a grown femme for centi-vorns, I think it's time for you to stop using it." She said with a displeased tone, clearly more irritated at being called that nickname than angry at her sister.

"What about 'C.C'? Have you outgrown that nickname, too?" The light blue femme who could only be Chromia teased.

Arcee sighed and shook her helm. "I don't even know why I missed the two of you," she said in an exasperated tone, causing her sisters and Ironhide to let out a short laugh before the group of four Autobots finally joined us.

"Flareup, Elita, Chromia, Ironhide. This is my partner, Shadowstreaker." Arcee said after a moment, gesturing to the femme who I didn't know until just now, then to her sisters and Ironhide, and finally to me. "As Jazz already said, he's also our heavy weapons specialist."

The orange and red femme who Arcee called Flareup gave me a small wave. "Hi," she said quietly, which gave me the impression that not only was she young like Bumblebee, but she was also a shy femme.

Elita inclined her helm in a way that was similar to how I usually inclined my helm. "A pleasure," she said in a formal voice that wasn't very different from Optimus' usual tone.

After Flareup and Elita said their greetings, Ironhide gave me an appraising look. "The Autobot heavy weapons specialist, huh?" He gave the Riot Cannon on his servo a brief glance before looking back at me. "We'll see about that," he said with a small smirk, leading me to believe he was going to test me at some point to see if I was fit for my role among the Autobots.

Unlike the previous three Autobots, Chromia didn't give me a greeting, she just looked at me, then to Arcee, then back to me.

"Hmm..." I heard her hum to herself with a seemingly disinterested look on her faceplate, but the look in her optics was far from disinterested. For a moment, I thought she had somehow figured out I had feelings for Arcee. But I quickly dismissed that thought as Chromia opened her mouth to speak, but froze at the hard look Arcee was giving her for some reason, as if daring her to say something. And after Arcee stared at her sister for a few moments, Chromia nodded at some unspoken request and remained silent.

I gave Chromia and Arcee a confused look before I mentally shrugged and inclined my helm like Elita had done a moment ago. "Nice to meet you all," I said honestly as I looked between the four Autobots, gaze lingering on Arcee and Chromia a micro-klick longer than the others.

"Now that we got that pointless slag out of the way," Sunstreaker said in an angry tone, not even a micro-klick after I spoke. "Can we go, now? I'm tired of this place."

Rolling my optics at Sunstreaker's words, I raised a servo to my audio receptor and opened a channel to base. _"Shadowstreaker to base, requesting ground bridge."_ I said through the channel, and then closed it without waiting for a response.

A couple micro-klicks after I contacted base, a ground bridge opened up about twenty meters from where we all stood, causing me to have my optics readjust to the source of light.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe walked over to the green portal first, and they quickly disappeared into the ground bridge. The twins were soon followed by Smokescreen, then Jazz, Elita, Chromia, Ironhide, and then finally Arcee.

I was about to step through the ground bridge as well, but I stopped when I saw something on the floor that caught my optic.

After I looked at what was on the floor for a few micro-klicks, I saw that the object was a human-sized wrench that had somehow escaped the rusty fate of the rest of the base.

I reached down and picked up the small wrench. "Huh... I wonder how this thing didn't corrode?" I asked myself, then shrugged after a moment, it had been a while since I got a souvenir from a mission, and this was would make a good memento.

Smiling slightly, I stood up and sub-spaced the wrench as I started walking toward the ground bridge again. And a moment later, I entered the green portal.

* * *

><p><strong>November 13, 2012 5:47 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

The first thing I saw after exiting the ground bridge was Jazz talking to Jack, Raf, and Miko over by the Xbox area. And judging by how Miko was making motions like she was playing her guitar, the main topic of their conversation was music.

Looking right, toward the entrance tunnel, I saw Sunstreaker and Sideswipe speaking with Prowl, who looked less than pleased by their presence, and from what I had seen of their personalities, I couldn't blame him.

I looked to the left and saw Ironhide, Jetfire, and Chromia speaking with Bulkhead, with the four Autobots occasionally sharing a laugh as they talked.

Looking over near the workstation, I saw Arcee talking with Optimus, Elita, and Ratchet, who had his servos around Moonracer's tank, and with Bumblebee and Flareup a short distance from them.

When I focused on the two younger Autobots, I noticed something very interesting. Bumblebee and Flareup were standing in silence, and I saw that Bumblebee's door-wings were fidgeting constantly, like he was nervous about something. And Flare Up was looking at the yellow and black scout with a well-hidden look of affection.

'Well, would you look at that. Bumblebee has a crush on a femme, and that same femme has a crush on him.' I thought with amusement, including Ratchet and Moonracer before they got together, that made three pairs of femmes and mechs that liked each other and had no idea the mech or femme they liked felt the same way. I might have to fix that.

My observations were interrupted by Smokescreen appearing from seemingly nowhere and literally bouncing on his pedes in excitement. What had him so excited, I didn't know, but the sight of a grown mech bouncing in excitement like a youngling was disturbing enough to where it didn't matter.

After a couple more bounces, Smokescreen revealed what had him so excited. "Bulkhead The Wrecking Ball is right over there!" He said so quickly that I almost didn't catch his words, pointing a digit at Bulkhead. "And Prowl The Strategist is over there! And, and Ratchet The Hatchet is standing with his servos around the tank of Moonracer The Sharpshooter!" He pointed at each bot as he said what was apparently a nickname for them, before he finally pointed to Optimus. "And, and, and Optimus Prime is right over there!" The white and blue mech damn-near squeaked as he pointed over at Optimus stood. "_The_ Optimus Prime... Is standing... RIGHT... THERE!"

I stared at Smokescreen in an incredulous silence. From what he has said to Arcee, I had assumed he was basically a huge fanboy of Arcee, but I now saw that I was wrong. Smokescreen, was _everyone's_ fanboy.

After I continued staring at Smokescreen, who hadn't moved at all since he finished speaking, I slowly looked over at Optimus, and then back at the white and blue mech in front of me. "He's Optimus Prime? I would have never guessed," I said sarcastically.

My sarcasm flew right over Smokescreen's helm, and he walked away to join the twins in their conversation with Prowl without another word to me.

I watched Smokescreen for another micro-klick before I turned my attention to Bumblebee and Flareup again, who now seemed to starting a conversation, and it looked like they would descend into an awkward silence after one of them finished speaking. It was painful to watch.

Seeing that there wasn't anything interesting going on with those two beyond their attempts at coversation, I shifted my gaze to Optimus and Elita, who were stealing glances at each other when they thought no one was watching.

I gave a small smile at the sight, things were going to get interesting around here.

My smile instantly vanished when I saw Jazz looking at me out of my peripheral vision.

When I looked fully at Jazz, he moved his helm just enough so that his visor was turned toward Arcee, and then he looked back at me and gave me a knowing smile.

Things were certainly going to get interesting around here.

* * *

><p><strong>(Human calendar) November 14, 2012 3:57 A.M<strong>

**(Cybertronian date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since the end of the Golden Age)**

**Decepticon War Cruiser Nemesis, low Earth orbit three-hundred and fifty miles northeast of Madagascar**

Megatron stood in the Nemesis' airlock, waiting for his ship to finish docking with Shockwave's vessel, the Dark Matter, with the ever-loyal Soundwave standing to his left.

Normally, Megatron would have Starscream standing next to him, even though the seeker was still recovering from the beating Megatron had given him over the last mega-cycle or so. But Soundwave had informed him of Starscream's failed attempt to revive the late Skyquake with Megatron's original shard of Dark Energon, and how the seeker lost one of his servos when the Autobots investigated the Dark Energon signal.

Starscream's attempt to use Dark Energon behind Megatron's backplates would usually have spelled the seeker's doom. But, Megatron found Starscream's consistent failures to be... Amusing, so he would allow Starscream to remain online and continue to have his schemes fail.

**'Release me...'** The Voice whispered to Megatron, causing a chill to go down the Decepticon leader's spine and halt his thoughts and focus on getting The Voice to shut up.

'Get out of my helm,' Megatron thought back to The Voice.

'Yeah! Get out of Megatron's helm!' A new voice said inside of helm of the Decepticon leader. This second voice was much higher and sounded far-less sinister than the first, more like an insane scientist yelling at someone to get of their lab than an apocalyptic entity, and that greatly confused Megatron, something that rarely happened to the former gladiator.

'What is this? Get out of my helm! I am Megatron! There is only one voice permitted in my helm! MY OWN!' Megatron thought back at both voices.

The warmonger waited for the voices to speak again, but they did not, so Megatron went back to waiting for the Nemesis to dock with the Dark Matter.

Megatron did not have to wait long, as almost immediately after he yelled at the voices in his helm, the Nemesis shook as it finally docked with the Dark Matter, and the airlock door slowly opened to reveal two Insecticons on the other side.

"Hail, Lord Megatron!" They said in unison, bringing a fist against their chestplates and bowing slightly as they did so.

Megatron didn't even give the two Insecticons a passing glance as he and Soundwave walked through the airlock door. "The pleasure is all yours," he said as he walked into the hallway beyond the Insecticons and turned left.

Megatron and Soundwave passed more than a dozen Decepticons as they walked down the hallway, and almost all of them called out to Megatron as he passed by, but the warmonger ignored them, he was here to speak with Shockwave and no one else.

Several klicks after Megatron and Soundwave entered the Dark Matter, they arrived at Megatron's intended destination, the ship's enormous hanger.

And Megatron smiled at what he saw.

Troop transports were coming and going, some carrying supplies for the soldiers on the island far below them, and others were carrying miners to work on the underground base Shockwave informed Megatron he had begun construction on.

Up on the ceiling of the hanger, dozens of gunships were entering the Dark Matter to refuel, but just as many were released from their docking clamps and flew out of the hanger to resume their patrol duties.

On the hanger floor, hundreds of Annihilators, Pyros, Brutes and their seeker counterparts, Insecticons, and normal Decepticon soldiers were walking to and from different areas of the hanger, each likely on their way to organize supplies for the journey down to Earth's surface.

But the smile on Megatron's faceplate didn't remain there for long, because as he looked around the hanger, he noticed there were perhaps only a third of the amount of gunships and troop transports then there should have been for an eight kilometer vessel such as the Dark Matter. And it was the same story with the number of soldiers Megatron saw in the hanger.

After Megatron looked around the hanger for a moment, he saw another problem. The far wall of the hanger was closer than it should have been, and it seemed to have been built recently.

'What has Shockwave done to a perfectly good Adversary-class?' Megatron thought. 'He's turned this ship into a lightly-armed transport instead of a warship. And knowing him, that is his laboratory.'

Shaking his helm at the foolishness of his head scientist, Megatron headed for the far wall of the hanger, with Soundwave wordlessly following behind him.

After a short walk, in which countless Decepticons shouted a 'Hail Megatron!' to him, Megatron and Soundwave reached a door on the far side of the hanger.

When the door didn't open automatically, Megatron pounded the button on the side of the door to open it, but it remained closed.

Megatron wasn't surprised to find the door was locked, Shockwave liked to work in seclusion, but the warmonger was angry that he had ordered Shockwave to meet with him and the scientist had either forgotten, or was simply ignoring him. Both possibilities were not acceptable.

Looking up above the door, Megatron saw a small camera. "Shockwave!" He barked at the camera's lens. "Open this door and I won't tear you apart!"

A few micro-klicks after Megatron yelled at the camera, the door remained closed.

Snarling in frustration, Megatron took a few steps back, turned around and fired his Fusion Cannon at the door.

The shot from Megatron's cannon hit the center of the door and obscured it from sight with smoke, fire, and a deafening explosion, causing every Decepticon in the hanger to jump at the sound. When the smoke cleared, the door had been almost entirely vaporized, with what little remained of the door reduced to molten metal.

Keeping the snarl on his faceplate, Megatron lowered his Fusion Cannon and stormed into the area behind the door that was, just as he'd guessed, a massive laboratory.

While Megatron stormed through the laboratory without giving any of the equipment a second glance, Soundwave examined everything in sight.

Cages filled with massive alien creatures, several races of sentient organics Soundwave hadn't seen before, neutrals, Autobots, and even a few Decepticons unfortunate enough to get on Shockwave's bad side, lined both walls.

Soundwave deduced that the sentients and non-sentients would end up as Shockwaves experiments within the coming orbital-cycle.

Examination tables covered in everything from dead organics, offlined Cybertronians, failed experiments, and several different types of alloys, were littered around the laboratory.

Soundwave looked down at the examination tables closest to him and saw multiple ingots of Dark Energon lying on each table. Where Shockwave had found more of the mysterious substance, Soundwave did not know. But the intelligence officer knew Megatron would want to find out where his head scientist had found the Dark Energon, and whether or not there was more to be found.

Soundwave halted his observations for the time being and began to follow Megatron again.

After Megatron stormed through the laboratory for several klicks in search of his head scientist, he finally found him monitoring the readings of a machine a short distance from him.

The single red optic of Shockwave turned to look at Megatron as he approached. "Ah, Lord Megatron." The scientist said as he looked up from the readings being displayed on computer monitor. "I heard you let yourself in. I will have you know, I just replaced that door after the last one was destroyed by an experiment that got loose."

Megatron walked up to Shockwave and glared at the mech that was a mere two feet shorter than his sixty foot frame. "I would not have had to let myself in if _you_ had done what I commanded and opened the door in the first place!" He hissed.

Shockwave didn't flinch at the glare being sent his way. "I was in a critical phase of my latest experiment. And my experiments are more important that opening a simple door for you, _Lord_ Megatron." The scientist replied in a tone that was on the verge of anger, and that was something that only Shockwave would have gotten away with Megatron for one simple reason. Out of all the Cybertronians in the Decepticon ranks, Shockwave was the only one that could potentially rival Megatron in strength and brutality, and surpass him in intelligence.

"My commands are the only thing that shall be important to you, Shockwave!" Megatron yelled, faceplate contorting in a furious snarl.

"I did not follow the command you gave me a moment ago, and you are standing here." Shockwave said, making a motion with his left servo that would have been one of dismissal, had it not been for the fact Shockwave had a Pulse Cannon for his left servo, since his real one had been destroyed in the final part of the war on Cybertron. "Besides, I believe you will forgive me after you have seen what I was working on instead of unlocking the door."

Now interested, Megatron took a step away from Shockwave, but kept the scowl on his faceplate. "Then show me." He said as he folded his servos behind his backplates.

Shockwave turned back to the computer. "You will see it momentarily, Lord Megatron." He said, then type a command into the computer, causing the machine he was monitoring to open with a hiss and reveal a rack filled with sheets of metal alloy that were glowing red-hot.

Megatron felt a twinge of amusement despite Shockwave's failure to impress him. "_Really_, Shockwave? You thought wasting your time making armor was more important that letting me into this pointless use of space that is your laboratory?"

Shockwave's single optic shifted from where he was gazing at the sheets of armor, to Megatron. "Lord Megatron, you wound me. This laboratory is a far better use of space than merely more gunships and troop transports, I have created a number of devices here that I would not have been able to do so without using an area this large for experiments." He said. "And the armor you believe I have wasted my time in making is one of the most useful of my creations."

Megatron gave Shockwave a skeptical look before taking a closer look at the red-hot armor. He found nothing different than the usual alloys used in Cybertronian armor. "And what is so useful about this armor, Shockwave?" He asked.

Instead of responding, Shockwave aimed at the armor and powered up his Pulse Cannon, making it seem like the cannon was sucking all noise out of the air in the brief moment before Shockwave fired.

The Pulse Cannon shot impacted the armor plate at hypersonic speeds, transferring a huge amount of kinetic energy to the armor before the shot detonated in a fireball that rivaled the heat of a star. But instead of the armor being reduced to ash, all the Pulse Cannon did to the armor was deform it.

Megatron raised both his optic ridges a fraction of an inch, as close to a surprised look as he allowed himself. "You've found a way to refine a larger amount of Primax out of Cybertronian metals?" He asked.

Shockwave lowered his Pulse Cannon and shook his helm. "Unfortunately not. I have, however, created the alloy you see before you. I call it, Cyberium, it is five times more resistant to heat and kinetic energy than most Cybertronian alloys. And if I am given enough resources, I can create an unlimited supply of it."

Megatron allowed himself a small smile as he reached out and touched the red-hot armor, ignoring the pain the action brought. If he outfitted his entire army with this armor, the Autobots would be at an even greater disadvantage than they already were.

"You will have your resources, Shockwave. I want every Decepticon in our ranks fitted with this armor as soon as possible." Megatron said before fully turning his attention to Shockwave. "What other useful creations do you have in this laboratory?"

A flash of excitement went through Shockwave's optic and he started to walk away. "Come, Lord Megatron." He said as he gestured for the warmonger and Soundwave to follow him. "I have a number of simply marvelous inventions to show you."

Megatron gave the Cyberium armor one last look before he smiled again and followed Shockwave. Fighting the Autobots was about to become much easier.

* * *

><p><strong>So there you have it. The Decepticons have gotten some serious reinforcements, the Autobots have gotten some of their own reinforcements, Jazz already knows that Shadowstreaker has feelings for Arcee, Flare Up and Bumblebee have feelings for each other and don't realize the other feels the same way, Elita and Optimus are the same story as Flare Up and Bumblebee... And Megatron has another voice in his head... Couldn't resist adding that last one. Lol.<strong>

**Sorry if any of you were expecting some action in this chapter, but I decided against having action. Don't get me wrong, I am a full on action junkie, but I just couldn't fit the battles I had in mind for this chapter to work. I might reuse the ideas later on, however.  
><strong>

**This chapter's credit song is "Position Music - Sinister Intent" This song really suits how this chapter ended, with Megatron and the Decepticons getting huge upgrade to their armor. Especially since the Decepticons have... You know... Sinister intentions.  
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**So, please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.**


	24. Energy Pulses

**Well, this chapter took longer than I thought it would. But, like I said last chapter, this one just kept going and going. And I am happy how it turned out, so hopefully it will be worth the extra wait. Sorry about that.  
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**Anyway, you how I said last chapter that I got more reviews for the previous chapter than I ever had gotten for a single chapter? Well, it has been reset again. Lol. Thank you all for reading and leaving feedback, it makes my day every time. :) And Fate Calls is now over one-hundred reviews! :D This calls for cookies! *Gives you all cookies since he is in a cheerful mood* Again, thank you all for reading and reviewing. :)  
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**One other thing, you may or may not have noticed, but I have rewritten each of the time and place notices in Fate Calls in bold. It draws your attention to where I have listed the time on place of each chapter, and it looks better, I should have done it a while ago, but only got around to it between this chapter and the last. At least I have fixed it now, though.  
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**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.  
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**jayna prime - I am glad you liked it. :)  
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**TimeLordBud - I personally think of it as a decent read *that's how I am*, but thank you very much for thinking so highly of my story. And that is what I have been trying to do since Crystal Prime started to beta read for me, I realized that just having every episode the exact same, except throwing my OC in there, would be boring. And the world is boring when everything is the same. Haha.  
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**Autobot Shadowstalker - I'm glad you liked it so much. :)  
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***Looks at work you say is good* I consider it decent. *Looks at last time he updated* I don't do a good job of doing that, do I? Lol.  
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**KayleeChiara - I know. Writing a book like Michael Bay writes his action would get boring after a while, as much fun as writing those scenes are. So, I am trying to find a balance between character development and action, hopefully I will find it soon.  
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**Other than Crystal's story, It's A Prime Adventure, Fate Calls is the first one I have seen her in, but I know for a fact that there are other fics she's in, I just haven't read them. And I noticed that the Autobots were getting a lot of new arrivals, but the Decepticons weren't. So, I had the Decepticons get their own reinforcements, it gave me the chance to introduce some new types of Decepticons that I had ideas for.  
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***Man in a black suit and dark sunglasses sits down in front of you* *In a Tommy Lee Jones voice* Whether you are correct or not is irrelevant, Sci-Fifan95 has classified all information related, or unrelated to future chapters of his story. *Pulls out neuralizer and activates it* SciFifan95 thanks you for your continued feedback, as well as says thank you for enjoying his story so much. *Gets up and walks away*  
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***Blinks* Anyway, thank you for reviewing, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter. :)  
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**Sky's Limit5 - Yup! He's hearing voices in his head. Haha.  
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**Yeah... The twins... *Sigh* Hopefully, they will be good at comic relief. Lol.  
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**And you don't need to wait anymore! At least for this chapter. lol.  
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**TransformersAndJesusFan - Thanks. :) I really enjoyed writing Jazz, he's such an awesome character. And that would explain why Megatron's crazy, wouldn't it?  
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**pfolk - Thank you. I did say it was ironic you asked that last chapter. Haha.  
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**Hehe. Perhaps, it would lead to an interesting conversation, that's for sure. And a showdown between Shadow' and Ironhide? That would be quite the sight. Lol.  
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**And thank you, I thought it would be interesting to add a little history to the story. But might I ask why are you telling me to not be afraid and use my own ideas? I already try and use every original idea I come up with, if it works with the story that is. And I have several ideas in mind that I haven't seen on this site before, I just have to get to them.  
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**And Christmas stories can be fun to read, I do not read many of them on here, but they can be fun to read.  
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**HanamiKaze - Sorry I didn't update very quickly, I have updating slowly the last few months. But you don't have to wait anymore for this chapter, at least. And I am glad you are enjoying my story.  
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**guest - Why thank you, random kind person who doesn't have an account! And I plan on it!  
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**falloutaki - You know what? At one point, I thought Fate Calls was going to be too long if it was one-hundred and fifty thousand words, now, I honestly don't even know how long it will go for, but I am not even close to finishing it at this point, it's too much fun to write. Haha.  
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**One thing, can you please not say that Crystal Prime isn't writing her story as well as mine? I view her as a sister, and I honestly found that to be very rude of you. Please don't do that again.  
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**TerraPrime - No idea if you are reading this, but I am sorry you had to read through the first ten chapters, I am far from proud of those chapters, even after I Crystal Prime and I have improved the grammar of some of them and are working on the others. Haha. But thank you.  
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**Darth review - Actually, the phone Bulkhead destroyed wasn't the only communication source to the outside world. If it was, then the Autobots wouldn't be able to talk to Agent Fowler through the computer, which they do several times throughout the series.  
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**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.  
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><p><strong>December 23, 2012 2:34 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

More than a jour had gone by since Ironhide, Arcee's sisters, Jazz, Smokescreen, and the twins arrived on Earth.

Since then, Springer had finally gotten out of the med-bay. He hadn't made a rude comment toward Arcee since he recovered, in fact, he hadn't really said much at all since he had been out of the med-bay, and the majority of what he said was to Bulkhead or Ironhide. The only thing he said to me in the two solar-cycles since Ratchet let him out of the med-bay was a short, 'Frag you.' And he glowered at me whenever we were within twenty meters of each other since he said that, which I usually returned with a cold stare. But, even though I had made an enemy of Springer, I was perfectly fine with him hating me as long as he didn't make rude comments toward Arcee.

Another noteworthy event of the last jour was that I had gone through the process of telling our new arrivals of my origins and who my creators are.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had called slag the moment I had finished telling them, and they only accepted my words as the truth after Optimus confirmed my story. Judging by the look in the optics of the twins when they finally believed me, they couldn't wait to prank the son of two members of the Thirteen. I have since put seven layers of encryption on my door to deny them access to my quarters.

Ironhide, Chromia, and Elita reacted in a similar way to how Moonracer did when I told her and Prowl back in June, asking questions and being genuinely curious.

Flareup hadn't said very much to me since she found out about my origins, I think she was intimidated to talk to me because of who my carrier and sire were. But I had recently been able to get a couple of casual conversations out of her, she was still very shy when I was around, but it was progress.

Jazz wasn't surprised at all when I told him. He just said that he had always thought the Thirteen were an ideal, guidelines to live by and nothing more, and then he had walked away without another word.

Smokescreen's reaction was... Interesting. The moment I had finished speaking, the white and blue mech bombarded me with questions about the Thirteen, and what Cybertron was like during the Age of the Primes, the time period before the Golden Age that has been lost to history. Even though I had made it clear that I was born a human and had only been a Cybertronian for a little over ten jours, he apparently thought that since I was the son of two of the Thirteen, I wielded similar amounts of power that they did, and that I was ancient beyond count. Unfortunately, Smokescreen was, despite my repeated insistence that I didn't wield any mythical powers or was older than time itself, or even a Prime for that matter, rapidly becoming my fanboy like he was for pretty much everyone else. I tended to avoid him when I could because of that.

But unfortunately, informing our new arrivals of my origins wasn't the only noteworthy event of the last jour.

We had been losing skirmishes more frequently since the Decepticons got their own new arrivals in the form of the Dark Matter, the name Optimus told me the Adversary-class was called when I informed him I heard Shockwave was in command of the vessel.

And unlike when we would go through long periods of time in which we did practically nothing, we had been far from idle since the Dark Matter arrived. If we weren't having a skirmish with the Decepticons over a hidden cache of weapons, we were fighting for control over energon, something we were starting to grow in desperate need of.

While we had recovered enough energon in late June to last us an orbital-cycle, that was when there were only eight of us, now there were eighteen of us. And the ten Autobots that had joined us on Earth since then were causing our energon stockpile to dwindle at an alarming rate. In fact, we were so low on energon, that Optimus was now taking the Energon Harvestor off my shelf and using it on energon deposits in each of our skirmishs. So, even if we lost the deposit, we would still get some energon out of the battle.

But the last few solar-cycles had been quiet, with only one skirmish between the Decepticons and us.

So Ironhide, not wanting to waste the lull in Decepticon activity, had finally decided to test me to determine if I was fit to be the Autobot's heavy weapons specialist. To test me, he challenged me to a shooting contest down in the Safe, which was where the two of us were at the moment.

"Nice shot, you're not too bad at this, kid." The Wrecker officer complimented as I handed him the Magma Frag Launcher I just used to hit a target drone that was behind a wall about six-hundred meters away.

"Your sparkmate's sister was the one who trained me, it isn't possible for Arcee to train someone without them becoming a decent shot with pretty much every type of weapon." I said, deflecting Ironhide's compliment easily while the Wrecker officer aimed the Magma Frag Launcher at the Safe's ceiling as he lined up the shot I had just taken. He and I were just starting to play 'E-N-E-R-G-O-N', which was basically the Cybertronian equivalent of H-O-R-S-E. Except that instead of using a basketball, you played using weapons, and you picked a different weapon after every player attempted to copy the shot of the first shooter.

"Ya can't ever give yourself credit, can ya?" Ironhide asked, just before he fired the Magma Frag Launcher and hit the target drone in the chest area with the sticky grenade-like explosive.

"No, I can't." I replied, shifting my attention away from Ironhide and to the pile of weapons that were lying next to us as I thought about what gun I would choose next.

I saw Ironhide shake his helm out of my peripheral vision, but he dropped the subject. "What's your weapon of choice gonna be this time?" He asked.

I was silent a moment before I picked a weapon up from the pile that had a rectangular barrel and a cylinder-like magazine behind the trigger. "What's this called?" I asked as I turned back to Ironhide. I had seen it before, when Ironhide transferred all the weapons he had sub-spaced that were from the ship, but I had no idea what it was called.

"That's a Path Blaster, one of the most common and reliable weapons in the second half of the war." Ironhide said, smiling at the weapon I had picked up. "And it packs a hell of a lot of firepower for something that's officially classified as a pistol."

I raised an optic ridge at the last thing Ironhide said and looked at the weapon I now knew was called a Path Blaster. "This _cannon_ was classified as a pistol?" I asked incredulously, even though the Path Blaster did kind of look like a human handgun, or as close as Cybertronian weapons could get to looking like human weaponry, it was still more than half the length of my servo.

Ironhide chuckled. "It is. I don't know who decided that, but I'm sure they had never even fired the thing for themselves." He said, then looked out at the range. "That gonna be your weapon of choice of this shot?" He asked.

I nodded. "Yes, I think it will be." I said with a small smile. I hadn't fired it yet, but I had a feeling I was going to like the Path Blaster.

"Alright," Ironhide said, then gestured to the shooting range. "Call your shot."

I looked at the various objects spread out in front of us as I considered what target I would shoot.

There were a number of target drones out on the shooting range, but that was an easy shot, and this was a contest, so I immediately ruled out a target drone as an option. The building I had blown up way back in February had finally been rebuilt, but it didn't have any targets on it, so that wasn't an option either. And the hulks of human tanks and cars suffered from the same problem.

Looking beyond most of the targets on the shooting range, I finally spotted a suitable target to shoot, a car engine partially hidden behind a wall about twice as far away as my previous shot with the Magma Frag Launcher.

I pointed my middle and index digits at the car engine and called my shot. "Partially hidden car engine from twelve-hundred meters, with the Path Blaster."

Ironhide looked at where I was pointing and nodded his helm after he saw the car engine. "Any special conditions of the shot?" He asked.

"No, just fire normally." I replied as I grabbed an energy cell from the open ammo crate next to the pile of weapons and inserted it into the Path Blaster's cylinder-like magazine.

"Alright, fire whenever you're ready," Ironhide said, then took a step away from me to give me room to fire.

After Ironhide stepped back, I took aim at the car engine and fired. Immediately after I pulled the trigger, the Path Blaster's barrel moved back to absorb the recoil of a ball of highly-compressed magma shooting out of its muzzle at supersonic speeds and flying toward the car engine at the precise point where I was aiming.

Unfortunately, I didn't take as long to aim as I should have, and my shot went high and to the right, burning a large, circular hole straight through to the other side of the wall within half a micro-klick.

Ironhide stared at the hole in the wall for a moment, then turned to me. "You missed. That's an 'E' for you, kid." He said, stating the obvious fact with an amused smile.

"I am aware of that," I said, giving the Wrecker officer a brief look before I put the Path Blaster back on the pile of weapons with a sigh. Although I had missed my shot, and that I had only fired one shot with it, the Path Blaster was already one of my top two of my favorite weapons, coming in a close second to my Ion Displacer.

After I put the Path Blaster back, Ironhide looked out at the shooting range without choosing a weapon from the pile.

I raised an optic ridge at how he didn't pick a weapon, but I mentally shrugged. It wasn't against the rules of E-N-E-R-G-O-N to use a weapon you had installed to your own systems, you just had to make sure the other player, or players, could use the same weapon. And we had a Riot Cannon and a Thermo Missle Cannon in the pile of weaponry next to us, so he was free to use the cannons on his servos.

A micro-klick after he looked out at the shooting range, Ironhide pointed a digit at a group of three tanks that were a relatively short distance away. "Three tanks from two-hundred meters, with the Thermo Missile Cannon," he said, then powered up the cannon on his left servo.

I looked out at the tanks, then looked at Ironhide. "Any special conditions?" I asked.

The Wrecker officer looked over at me and smiled. "Yeah, ya can't look at the target when you fire." With those words, he raised his left servo and fired his Thermo Missile Cannon, sending three missiles toward the trio of tanks without looking away from me.

Each of Ironhide's three missiles found their marks. Two missiles hit the treads of the tanks they hit. And the last missile blew the turret of its intended target clean off with an impressive fireball, reducing the tank to a twisted hulk of metal.

I blinked several times at Ironhide's show of marksmanship, he hadn't even given the tanks a second glance after he called his shot, and he still managed to hit all three of his targets. It would be an understatement to say I was going to have trouble copying his shot.

"And that," Ironhide said, bringing me out of my thoughts. "Is how you do that."

Blinking one more time at Ironhide's shot, I glanced at the Wrecker officer. "Well, you're certainly not going to hold anything back for later in the game, are you?" I asked, then reached over and picked up one of the Thermo Missile Cannons from the weapons pile.

"Whether I'm on the battlefield or not, I never hold back, kid." Ironhide said. "What's the point of holding your abilities back when you know you could do more?" He asked rhetorically.

I answered his question anyway. "Because you don't want to show all your cards at once," I said as I picked up three missiles from the ammo crate and started to load them into the Missile Cannon.

Ironhide gave me an inquisitive look. "What does that mean?" He asked.

"It's a human expression. It means to keep your true capabilities hidden so that your opponent underestimates you. When they underestimate you, they become cocky, and you can surprise them when the time is right and land the one critical strike you need to win the fight." I explained. "Usually the expression is used in the human card game 'poker', but it can apply to many different situations, combat included." I concluded as I finished loading the Missile Cannon and looked out at the three tanks, trying to memorize their positions before I fired.

"So, you basically fake being a terrible fighter long enough for your opponent to become confident that they're going to win without any trouble, and then you take them out while their guard is down?" Ironhide asked.

"Essentially," I answered. "That's why you don't want to show all your cards at once, so to speak. It is better to fight an overconfident enemy than it is to fight a cautious one."

"Hmm," Ironhide hummed thoughtfully. "That's a pretty smart tactic, kid." He said, optics going distant for a moment as he considered my words, but he shook his helm after a moment and gestured to the targets. "I think that's enough discussing battle tactics for one shot. Fire when you're ready."

I gave Ironhide a nod and gave the tanks one more brief look, turned my helm away so I could copy Ironhide's shot, then started to pull the trigger of the Missile Cannon.

"Miss!" Springer's voice suddenly yelled at the precise moment I finished pulling the trigger.

Surprised by Springer's unexpected appearance, I jerked my servo and caused the missiles I just fired to lower than I intended for them to go. And the three missile impacted the Safe floor a mere fifty meters in front of Ironhide and I, showering Ironhide and I in sand and freshly-made molten glass.

Once the debris from the missile detonations finished falling on Ironhide and I, I turned and sent an annoyed look toward Springer, who was standing in front of the elevator with Bulkhead.

"What was the point of that?" I asked the green Triple-Changer, making sure to keep my tone civil despite my severe dislike of Springer.

"To get you to miss," Springer hissed in response, speaking directly to me for only the second time since he was released from the med-bay. "I thought that was pretty obvious."

"It was also unnecessary and stupid, Springer." Ironhide said as he brushed off the sand and molten glass off his shoulder-joints and looked over at Springer.

The hateful glare Springer was giving me changed to an irritated look, and he shifted his gaze to Ironhide. "Yeah, it was unnecessary. But the thing is, I don't give a frag when it involves _Shadowstreaker._" He said, saying my name as if it was a curse. "But how was it stupid of me to cause... _Him_, to miss?" He asked, glancing away from Ironhide and giving me a brief scowl, which I returned with an icy stare, before he looked back at the Wrecker officer.

Ironhide frowned. "Springer, Shadowstreaker was holding a _loaded_ Thermo Missile Cannon. And he was pulling the trigger at the exact moment you yelled. What if his reflexes took over and he turned the Missile Cannon on you for sneaking up on us like you just did?" He scolded. "You'd be offlined right now, that's what would have happened. And that's why it was stupid of you to yell as Shadowstreaker was shooting."

Springer snorted. "Well, then. I guess I'm lucky Shadowstreaker prefers to _punch_ his fellow Autobots instead of shoot them." He said with a glare directed me at, then turned and walked toward the sparring ring. "I hope you get turned into scrap, Shadowstreaker." He called over his shoulder-joint.

My left optic twitched at Springer's comment. "And I hope you lose just as badly as the last time you were in the sparring ring." I retorted with a bit of anger in my tone. My words caused Springer to send a scowl my way and take a step back toward me before Bulkhead, who was walking next to him, sent me an apologetic look and pushed Springer into the ring, then quickly started to spar with the taller Wrecker, which forced Springer's attention to shift away from me.

Once Bulkhead distracted Springer, for which I was going to have to thank Bulkhead for doing, I set the Thermo Missile Cannon down on the weapons pile and started walking to the elevator. "Either you win or we'll pick this up another time, Ironhide. I need to get out of the Safe for a while." I said as I reached the elevator and pressed the button for ground level. And a moment later, the elevator started to move and I left the Safe.

After a short ride in the elevator, I reached ground level and I turned left and headed for the washracks to get all the sand and still-molten glass off my frame, but I hadn't even taken three steps before I stopped and stared at an unusual sight further down the hallway.

Optimus and Elita-One were, for no apparent reason, standing in the middle of the hallway, with their backplates turned to me and their helms looking up at the ceiling for some strange reason.

Furrowing my optic ridges at the strange sight of Optimus and Elita randomly standing in the middle of the hallway, I put my trip to the washracks on hold for a moment and walked toward the two Autobot officers.

As I got closer to Elita and Optimus, Elita, likely having heard me walking toward them, turned around and looked at me as I approached.

"Shadowstreaker, do you-" She started to say, but then seemed to notice I was covered in sand and glass and got a curious look on her faceplate. "Why are you covered in sand?" She asked, tilting her helm slightly to the left to accompany her curious look.

"Ironhide and I were playing a game of E-N-E-R-G-O-N," I said as Optimus turned to look at me as well. "Springer snuck up behind us and yelled so I would miss when I was firing a Thermo Missile Cannon. He succeeded. And I shot the ground in front of us instead of my intended targets. The explosion from the missiles showered Ironhide and I in sand."

Optimus frowned slightly at that. "Surprising someone who is holding a Missile Cannon is not a wise course of action. Springer is fortunate that you did not accidentally shoot him." He said, voice carrying a tone of disapproval along with his trademark calm.

"Ironhide said the same thing, he even gave Springer a short lecture about why he shouldn't have done that," I said to Optimus, then looked at Elita. "What were you going to say before you asked why I'm covered in sand?" I asked.

Elita looked up at the ceiling directly above Optimus and her. "I was about to ask you what the purpose is for this branch. What is it?" She asked, giving me a brief glance before looking back up at the ceiling and pointing a digit at what she was looking at.

Following the direction of Elita's digit, I looked up at the ceiling... And immediately put on my best poker face.

The object hanging above Optimus and Elita was cleverly hidden behind a support beam, making it impossible to spot unless you were walking toward the Safe or the ops center instead of away from them. And, as Elita had said, it was a branch. A branch with long, green leaves and red berries.

The branch hanging above their helms... Was a Mistletoe.

I stared at the Mistletoe for a moment before I looked back at Elita and Optimus. "That's, ah... That's a Mistletoe." I said slowly, struggling to keep myself from laughing at just how hilarious this situation was.

"What is a Mistletoe?" Optimus asked with a confused look on his faceplate.

"It's, ah... It's a plant that grows attached to trees or shrubs." I explained. "A lot of humans hang them up in their homes as a simple Christmas decoration, a very popular religious and cultural holiday at this time of the orbital-cycle. And, for reasons that humans do not even know for certain, the Mistletoe has an unusual tradition when an unrelated man and woman stand under one..."

"What is the tradition?" Optimus asked.

Elita followed up Optimus' question with one of her own before I could respond. "And does this tradition having anything to do with why everyone laughs and walks away without a word when they see Optimus and I standing here?"

I covered my mouth with a servo to prevent the laugh that almost worked its way out of my throat, but it still managed to get through as an amused snort, which caused Elita and Optimus to give me a perplexed look before I quickly mastered myself and answered.

"The tradition is that... Well, the man and woman have to stand under the Mistletoe until they share a kiss. And if they don't, they will both stay single for the next orbital-cycle." I said with the straightest look I could manage, even though I was rolling on the ground with laughter on the inside.

Optimus and Elita's faceplates were completely and totally blank and expressionless, as if the real Elita-One and Optimus had been replaced with statues while I was explaining the tradition of the Mistletoe. And their cooling fans activated so loudly that it was almost like there were a couple of stationary tornadoes were standing in front of me.

I tried my best not to laugh, but I couldn't keep a smile from forming on my faceplate. "Are you malfunctioning?" I couldn't help but ask a voice filled with mirth, repeating the question that three different Primes had asked me since I had left my original reality.

My question seemed to bring Optimus and Elita out of a daze, and they both shook their helms like they were brought out of a daydream. But they didn't look at each other, just kept their gazes focused on me.

"Well," Elita said after a moment. "I guess we know why Jazz reacted the way he did when he saw us here, don't we?" She asked, directing her question at Optimus without looking at him.

"Indeed." Was all Optimus responded with.

"How did Jazz react?" I asked Elita, some of the amusement I was feeling being replaced by curiosity.

"Once he saw us, he snapped his digits and said something about 'Not gettin' da right mech and femme', not sure what he meant by that." The rose red femme replied with a shake of her helm.

My poker face returned instantly and all traces of amusement left me, I had a bad feeling I knew the reason Jazz said that. "I wonder what he meant by that," I said in an even voice that revealed nothing about how I was reacting on the inside.

Elita shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it was because he was trying to get a different mech and femme under this Mistletoe," she said, then locked optics with me and gave me a knowing look.

I narrowed my optics at the rose red femme in suspicion, she knew. She fragging knew. How she knew, I did not know, but Optimus, Jetfire, Jazz or even Springer could have easily told her, or she could have reached the conclusion I had feelings for her sister just from her own observations.

"Perhaps," I agreed with Elita, then quickly stepped around Optimus and her and started walking in the direction of the washracks again. "But, whatever he meant to do, you two are the ones stuck in there now." I called over my shoulder-joint, taking a little satisfaction in hearing their cooling fans activate again before I stepped around the corner and left Optimus and Elita standing under the Mistletoe.

Once I stepped around the corner and was out of Optimus and Elita's sight, I looked up at the ceiling and started searching for other hidden Mistletoes as I continued on toward the washracks. If Jazz had hung up one Mistletoe, it was highly likely that the saboteur had hung up multiple Mistletoes up around the base. After all, it was simple logic when you were trying to catch a mouse, the more traps you set up, the more likely the mouse will get its head or tail caught in a trap. Or, in this case, more likely to get me caught under a Mistletoe with Arcee.

About a klick after I left Optimus and Elita standing under the Mistletoe, I reached the washracks and spotted my first Mistletoe, at least since I started to actively search for them, hanging from the ceiling right in front of the door to the mech's washracks.

Jumping up lightly so I could reach the ceiling, I grabbed the Mistletoe and threw it on the ground before letting the door open for me and entering the empty washracks. I stepped into a stall and turned the water on, instantly showering me in about two-hundred gallons of water per klick.

I looked down at my chassis as the water flowed over me. It seemed like the sand was washing away without any trouble, but the molten glass was, much to my annoyance, rapidly cooling and either shattering and falling off my frame, or stubbornly sticking to my armor.

'Well, at least glass is easy to remove,' I thought, reaching over and grabbing a metal brush next to me and beginning to scrub off the glass that was sticking to my armor.

After I scrubbed off the glass that had refused to fall off my frame, I put the brush back on the side of the stall and took off the first layer of my left shoulder-joint armor to make sure sand hadn't found its way in between my armor layers.

Sand, when left for a long period of time, was terrible for Cybertronian gears. And the fact sand was so tiny compared to... Well, pretty much everything, made it very difficult to get out of the internal components of Cybertronians. I had learned that the hard way after I had jumped out of the Decepticon stealth frigate. And since my left shoulder-joint had been seriously injured in the past, getting sand in the gears of that shoulder-joint would be much worse than it normally would.

But, luckily there wasn't any sand between my armor layers. So, I replaced my outer layer of shoulder-joint armor, turned the water off, stepped out of the stall and let the door automatically open before I walked out into the hallway.

As I stepped out into the hallway, I caught a flash of silver out of my peripheral vision and I turned my helm to the left to see Jazz leaning against the wall next to the washrack.

"Ah see dat ya tore down da Mistletoe Ah hung up," the saboteur said, glancing down at the Mistletoe on the floor before looking back up at me. "It took me a long time ta set dat up, just so ya know."

I gave Jazz an emotionless look. "You are trying to get Arcee and I under the Mistletoe," I stated matter-of-factly, knowing that was his exact intention from what Elita said.

"Ah'm just tryin' ta get ya movin' in da right direction," Jazz replied, not even trying to deny my statement as he pushed himself off the wall and walked toward me. "Since ya obviously aren' plannin' on makin' da move yourself."

"That is because there's nowhere to move, Jazz." I said, turning around and starting to walk in the direction of the ops center.

A look of understanding crossed Jazz's faceplate. "Ah see, you're in da 'There's no way she's inta me, and Ah don' wanna weird her out, so Ah'm not gonna make a move' phase, aren' ya?" He asked with a knowing grin.

My left optic twitched at how Jazz seemed to be able to get very accurate information from the simplest of statements. "Yes, yes I am. And I intend on staying in that phase." I responded as we rounded the corner and entered the hallway where Optimus and Elita had been caught under one of the Mistletoes Jazz set up, but were now nowhere in sight, likely having walked in different directions after I left them here.

"Da spark wants what it wants, Shadowster'," Jazz said, then turned around and started walking back the way we came. "It's a fearful CPU dat gets in da way. And ya've made it my mission ta make you overcome dat fear." He said over his shoulder-joint.

I came to a halt and looked back at Jazz's retreating form. "No matter how many Mistletoes you put up, I'm not going to get stuck under one. I'll just going to pull them down." I said.

"Ah'll remember dat," Jazz said as he rounded the corner and entered the hallway he and I just came from, but poked his helm around the corner before he had been out of my sight for a micro-klick. "And by da way, ya might wanna look up." He added with a smirk, then pulled his helm around the corner and disappeared for good.

After Jazz left me standing in the hallway, I looked up at the ceiling and let out an annoyed sigh at what I saw. I was standing directly under the Mistletoe Optimus and Elita were just a few klicks ago. And, knowing Jazz, he had probably walked away when he did because he knew, as a result, I would end up standing in this exact spot as I watched him leave. He was a master manipulator like that.

Sighing again at how Jazz had likely played me, I jumped up and grabbed the Mistletoe and threw it on the ground, then turned and continued to walk toward the ops center.

I had only taken a few steps before I came to a halt as Ratchet opened a communications channel with everyone on base.

_"All Autobots, report to the ops center."_ He said through the channel. _"Shadowstreaker, bring the Energon Harvester from your quarters, we're likely going to need it."_ He added, then closed the channel with that short message.

After Ratchet closed the channel, I continued to walk in the same direction I had been until I reached my quarters and punched in the lengthy password to open my door.

Once I had entered my password, the door automatically opened and I stepped into my quarters and made a beeline for the shelves on the left side of the room, where the Energon Harvester was sitting in between the picture Wildwing drew for me and the wrench I recovered from the long-abandoned Soviet Cold War base.

I reached the shelves and picked up the Energon Harvester, then turned around to exit my quarters and head for the ops center, but I paused a moment to look at all the souvenirs I had collected, most of which I had added recently, thanks to the Adversary-class orbiting somewhere over Earth.

The shelves on the right side of the room were filled with all the souvenirs I had collected through combat. Most of them were fragments of armor that I had taken from offlined Decepticons that I had collected just to remind me of a particular skirmish, but there were a few more significant souvenirs. Such as a broken flamethrower I had taken from a Pyro I fought with, and a massive, double-headed, jet black and crimson red battle axe that a Brute I offlined had been using instead of the usual hammer.

The shelves on the left side of the room were filled with all the souvenirs I collected that held sentimental value. There were far fewer objects on the left shelves, because of how often we had skirmishes with the Decepticons. But, I had been able to add a few items on the rare occasions when we were able to harvest a small deposit of energon without fighting the Decepticons. Like an ancient Roman Gladius I found in a remote area of Italy. As well as my personal favorite, an old Revolutionary War musket I discovered buried in the backwoods of Virginia, more than likely having sat there for more than two-hundred orbital-cycles after a British soldier or American revolutionary accidentally left it behind as they moved through the woods.

I smiled slightly at the sight of the musket, I wasn't planning on it being in my possession for long.

A mega-cycle ago, I had accidentally overheard Elita and Chromia asking Arcee what she wanted for her creation day next mega-cycle. Arcee had said she would adamantly refuse to accept any gift she was given, saying that there were more important things to focus on than giving her a gift for living to see another creation day. Elita and Chromia insisted on an answer, and Arcee had finally just told them, in her own words 'Just get me a gun from the armory, or something.' It had been a bogus answer. Arcee had clearly just wanted her sisters to stop asking her at the time. But, her answer had given me an idea.

And that idea involved cleaning the Revolutionary War musket up until it looked as good as it could for a gun its age, and then giving it to Arcee as a birthday present. It might not be practical or have any real use, but, as Arcee's partner, I couldn't not give her something for her birthday. And I certainly wasn't going to go down to the armory and grab a weapon to give to her, that was just being lazy. Besides, Arcee loved guns of all kinds, even the ones she couldn't use. The musket was a perfect gift. And I had finished cleaning it earlier in the cycle, which in turn happened to be the cycle Elita and Chromia mentioned was Arcee's birthday.

Reaching over and grabbing the musket from my shelf, I sub-spaced the inert weapon, stepped out into the hallway with the Energon Harvestor in my servo and locked my door again before heading for the ops center.

A few micro-klicks later, I stepped into the ops center and saw everyone crowded around the workstation, excluding Jack, Raf, and Miko since they were on the catwalk.

Jazz, who had most certainly gotten here before me because I was retrieving the Energon Harvester, turned to look at me when I stepped into the room and stood next to Arcee. "There ya are. Ya almost missed da Doc Bot's briefing," he said, then immediately ducked to dodge the wrench thrown at his helm by Ratchet.

"Don't call me that!" The white and red medic said with a little extra irritation in his tone, clearly hating the nickname Jazz called him.

"Hey! That's my line, Hatchet!" Sunstreaker said from where he and Sideswipe stood next to the humans.

Ratchet gave Sunstreaker a slight glare. "Don't call me that, either!" He half-yelled, then hit Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, even though the red twin hadn't done anything, in the helm with a pair of wrenches.

Optimus sighed lightly and pinched the bridge of his nose-plate. "Enough," he said in a firm tone, cutting off any response the twins might have said to getting hit in the helm. "This is not the time for a meaningless dispute over nicknames." He gave Jazz and the twins a look before shifting his attention to Ratchet. "Why have you called all of us here, Ratchet?" He asked.

Moonracer answered Optimus' question instead. "Over the last ten klicks," she said as she typed a command into her part of the workstation, causing the main screen to focus Contiguous United States and highlight our base with a red circle. "We have been getting hit by energy pulses in five micro-klick increments." She typed another command into the workstation, and the main screen added blue, radar-like pulses that were originating somewhere to the west of us.

"Have you determined where the energy pulses are emanating from?" Prowl asked from where he stood next to Optimus.

"Or identify what type of energy the pulses are giving off?" Jetfire added from where he was standing next to Ironhide, Elita, and Chromia.

"We were able to track the origin of the pulses to a remote area in the state of Colorado," Ratchet answered, typing a command into his part of the workstation and causing the main screen to highlight a small area in south-west Colorado. "As for the energy the pulses themselves are emitting, it is similar to the energy readings a deposit of energon would give off when it is uncovered, albeit far stronger than any energon deposit I have ever detected." He said, voice carrying a faint tone of uncertainty, clearly not sure about something.

"You don't think an energon deposit is causing the energy pulses," I said, more of a statement than a question.

Ratchet answered like I had asked a question. "No, neither of us do." He said, looking over at me and gesturing between Moonracer and himself. "The energy pulses an energon deposit gives off are very weak and as unique as a human fingerprint, no two pulses are the same. These pulses are the exact opposite, each pulse is identical and incredibly powerful. Powerful enough that Moonracer and I have detected a small disturbance in our power grid every time a pulse passes over the base." He explained.

"So, will I actually need this?" I asked, holding up the Energon Harvester.

Ratchet shook his helm. "Likely not. I was hoping our equipment was wrong and the energy pulses really were from an energon deposit, but Moonracer and I have gone over the data several times, and we don't think it's coming from energon." He responded.

Nodding at Ratchet's words, I sub-spaced the Energon Harvester as Optimus spoke.

"If the energy pulses are not originating from an energon deposit," the Prime said with a thoughtful look on his faceplate. "Then what is emitting the pulses?" He asked.

Ratchet paused for a long moment before he looked at Optimus. "I have no idea," he finally said as he gave the Prime a helpless shrug, clearly as confused by the energy pulses as he was.

"Then let us find out, Ratchet," Optimus said. "Ratchet, you're on ground bridge duty. Lock onto the location you have determined the energy pulses are emanating and open the ground bridge. The rest of you, you're with me." He instructed as he snapped his battle mask over his faceplate and walked over to the ground bridge.

We all nodded at the Prime's orders, and all of us except Ratchet joined him in front the ground bridge.

After we moved next to Optimus, Ratchet typed the coordinates into the workstation and opened the ground bridge.

And a moment later, we all stepped forward and disappeared into the green portal.

* * *

><p><strong>December 23, 2012 4:13 P.M<strong>

**Somewhere in Hinsdale County, Colorado**

When I exited the ground bridge, I immediately noticed how cold Colorado was. Granted, it wasn't even close to how cold Antarctica was, but I knew just from how the air felt that it was a chilly ten degrees below zero, a harsh climate compared to the mild winter of southern Nevada and the regulated temperature of our base.

Looking around, I saw that the area around us was picturesque of what most people thought of when talking about Colorado.

The sky was perfectly clear, and was just starting to turn pink as the solar-cycle began to come to an end. And we were standing on the bank of a crystal-clear lake that was surrounded by a forest of Douglas-firs and sitting between two massive, snow-capped mountains.

The ground, while rocky and frozen solid, had very little snow covering it, but that wasn't surprising, given how Colorado's climate was semi-arid.

"So, where are we headin', boss bot?" Jazz asked Optimus, bringing me out of my observations.

Optimus didn't answer, and instead looked at Moonracer, who was looking at a data pad she had brought with her. "How far is this location from the origin of the energy pulses?" He asked.

"Not far," the green and white femme replied, sub-spacing the data pad and pointing a digit at the forest off to our left. "Whatever's causing the pulses is about three kilometers in that direction."

Optimus looked at the forest for a brief moment before making a forward motion with his servo. "Move out, Autobots," he said. And with that simple order, he started to walk toward the forest.

The rest of us fell in step with the Prime and continued on in silence. At least, until Smokescreen opened his mouth a few micro-klicks later.

"Alright! My first mission with Optimus Prime! This is going to be _epic!_" The white and blue mech said, tone almost giddy with excitement as he got into a fighting stance and threw a few punches at the air and moved as if he was dodging punches, like he was fighting an invisible opponent.

I looked over at Smokescreen and raised one of my optic ridges an inch, a hardly noticeable movement to sentient beings of our size. "Why do you do that?" I asked.

Smokescreen paused in his mock fight long enough to look over at me. "Do what?" He asked in return, then looked away from me and continued his fake punching and dodging.

"Pretend you are fighting a non-existent opponent," I said. "You've done it on every mission we've both been on, and all you end up doing is getting yourself distracted from the actual mission."

The white and blue mech stopped mid-punch, and lowered his servos after a moment. "Yeah, sorry about that," he said, tone a bit embarrassed for a moment before going back to his usual cheer. "I just can't help but be excited. I mean, I'm on a mission with _Optimus Prime!_ That's like fighting alongside one of the Thirteen!" He looked ahead at Optimus, who I knew could hear him, but was pointedly ignoring him and focusing on the terrain in front of him instead, then looked at me. "Or more like two of the Thirteen! Since you're-"

"Stop right there, Smokescreen," I interrupted in an annoyed voice. He just wouldn't accept the fact that I wasn't special, I was just a soldier like he was, only a lot larger. "We have been over this many, many times. I am not ancient, I am less than a quarter of a vorn old. And even though my creators are two of the Thirteen, I am not, in any way, shape, or form, any different from a normal Cybertronian Triple-Changer."

Judging by the excited look on Smokescreen's faceplate, he didn't get the message. "You're the son of two members of the Thirteen! That makes you a Prime by extention-"

"No. It. _Doesn't._" I interrupted again, putting emphasis on each word as my left optic twitched slightly at what the smaller mech said. "Genetics have nothing to do with what makes a Prime. If it did, than there would be a lot more Primes than just Optimus."

"Shadowstreaker is correct, Smokescreen," Optimus said, not turning around to look at the white and blue mech. "Becoming a Prime is not passed down from creator to creation. There are far greater, and trying, requirements to be a Prime than merely being related to the Thirteen."

Smokescreen looked like he wanted to argue with the words of Optimus and I, but he just sighed and lowered his helm dejectedly, almost like he was a human toddler who just found out a character from his favorite comic book wasn't real.

Arcee, who was walking next to me, noticed this and opened a comm-link with me. _"I don't think I've seen Smokescreen sad before."_ She said, looking straight ahead and not giving any indication she was speaking through a comm-link. _"Did you really have to crush his admiration like that? I deal with his... Interesting, moments all the time."_

_"That's because you, and everyone else, are famous on Cybertron,"_ I replied through the link, taking her lead and looking straight ahead. _"The only reason he acts like a fanboy to me, is because he can't accept the fact I'm not a Prime that's ancient beyond count, or even a Prime, for that matter. I've told him many times that I'm not what he thinks, but he never gets the message, I had to make sure he got it this time."_

I saw Arcee nod marginally out of my peripheral vision. _"A fair point,"_ she conceded. _"But you still could have let him down easier than you did. Even though he doesn't act like it, I can tell he's a sensitive mech."_

_"I probably could have,"_ I admitted. _"But I had to make it clear that comparing me to a Prime isn't acceptable."_

_"'Isn't acceptable'? You sounded like his sire, just now,"_ Arcee said, humor shining in her optics as she looked to her right to glance at me before looking ahead again.

I paused. What I said just now did kind of make me sound like I was Smokescreen's sire, ironic considering how I was a tiny fraction of his age. And now that I thought about it, Arcee has kind of been talking like she was Smokescreen's carrier, which I definitely going to have to point out to her.

_"I did kinda sound his sire,"_ I said after a short moment. _"Which would make you his carrier, since we're partners and you've also been acting like his carrier since you started this conversation."_ I pointed out, giving Arcee my own amused look before looking ahead again.

Arcee paused like I had just done, then nodded with a a hint of a smile on her faceplate. _"I guess it does,"_ she said, voice carrying a tone that reflected the smile on her faceplate.

I gave Arcee a brief, dry look. _"Well then, congratulations, Arcee. We've had a sparkling,"_ I joked, ignoring the warm feelings that flooded my spark at my own words. I needed to find a way to keep my spark from fluttering at the most random times.

_"I just wish he looked like one of us,"_ Arcee joked back in her own dry tone, then closed the comm-link with that.

Chuckling to myself, I shook my helm slightly and looked around at the surrounding forest for any sign of Deceptions, only to come to a near-complete halt as a thought came to me.

'Were Arcee and I just... Flirting?' I asked myself with a stoic look on my faceplate, but very confused internally. I had seen from afar a number of my friends flirt with girls when I was still a human, but I myself had never done so, because I never had been interested to have a relationship with any of the girls I met while I was a human. So, I had no way of knowing what flirting was actually like. But, if Arcee and I had been flirting just now, that meant...

"No... Couldn't be," I said to myself, shaking my helm at the brief, ridiculous thought of Arcee being interested in a relationship with me, and increasing my stride to catch up with the others, who were now about thirty meters in front of me.

After falling in step with my fellow Autobots, I matched their pace and looked around the forest, in search of Decepticon activity, until the Douglas-firs started to thin out.

Once I noticed the trees becoming thinner and thinner, I looked ahead and saw that we were approaching the edge of a cliff, with the sounds of Cybertronian machinery carrying up from below. The Decepticons had had clearly beaten us to whatever was causing the energy pulses.

We all took a few more steps toward the edge of the cliff, then, following a command Optimus didn't need to utter, we went flat on our tanks and chestplates and crawled the rest of the way to the cliff's edge.

I reached the edge of the cliff just before everyone else, and I carefully moved my helm forward until I could see down the cliff.

As expected, Decepticons were at the bottom of the cliff. And there were a lot of them.

Directly beneath us, there were several Decepticon mining drills digging into the base of the cliff, clearly in search of what was causing the energy pulses.

A few dozen meters away from the mining drills, in a small canyon, a mixture of average Decepticons soldiers and Insecticons were moving to and from different areas of the canyon where mining drills were being used to search for the origin of the energy pulses.

And in the sky above us, seekers were patrolling the canyon in a wide circle. Fortunately, there weren't any Brute Seekers or Annihilators in their ranks, but their numbers more than made up for that fact. There were three squadrons, that I could see, meaning that there were at least seventy-two seekers patrolling the skies.

In all, I estimated there were between two-hundred and three-hundred Decepticons on-site, which meant we were outnumbered by a minimum factor of roughly twelve. That wasn't impossible for us to overcome, but it certainly wasn't going to be easy, especially with the presence of the mech that was standing among the Decepticons in the middle of the canyon.

The mech was colored silver, and stood at sixty feet in height, towering over all of us, even Optimus. His shoulder-joints were spiked like the hull of a Decepticon warship. A Fusion Cannon was attached to his right servo. And his optics were crimson in color, and, even from this distance, were alight with arrogance and anger, as if he felt like all sentient beings should bow to him and obey what he told them without question.

And he likely got that obedience from those that followed him, because he was one who fired the first shot of the war that reduced Cybertron to a dead world. Because he had glassed planets and destroyed entire sentient races for little reason other than stockpiles of energon and for his twisted sport. Because he was the worst war criminal in the history of the Cybertronian race. Because he was Megatron.

I saw Optimus' optics darken at the sight of his rival out of my peripheral vision. "Megatron," he whispered, voice somehow carrying both sadness and anger as he looked at the Decepticon leader. The Prime looked at Prowl. "What are our options, Prowl?" He asked.

The black and white strategist looked at the Decepticons and didn't respond for several micro-klicks. "Normally, we would have an advantage over the Decepticon forces in the canyon for we currently hold the high ground, but our advantage is rendered moot, due to the presence of Insecticons on the ground and the seeker squadrons patrolling the sky." He finally replied. "Our lack of numbers is also a matter for concern."

"But what we lack in numbers, Sunny and I more than make up for in quality," Sideswipe said in an arrogant tone.

Sunstreaker glared at his twin. "Don't call me that!" He said in a quiet, angry tone, then smacked his brother in the back of the helm, causing a verbal squabble to break out between them.

Prowl ignored the bickering twins. "We have two options, Optimus. One is waiting for the Decepticons to uncover the object emitting the energy pulses and taking it from them, but due to our lack of numbers, there is an eighty-five point six-three percent chance the Decepticons will escape before we can recover the object." He said. "The other option is to attack while we have the element of surprise and hope to uncover the object after the fighting and ground bridge back to base, but there is a sixty-one point four percent chance we will be overwhelmed by the Decepticon forces before we are able to uncover the object."

Optimus was silent for a long time, and he didn't get a chance to reply, because a Decepticon miner called out from below, causing all of us to look down again.

"Lord Megatron! I think I've found it!" The miner in the drill directly below me cried over the sound of the drills his fellow miners and himself, looking back at the Decepticon leader and waving a servo for him to approach.

Megatron looked toward the miner. "And why do you think that, miner?" He asked.

The miner seemed to fidget under Megatron's steely gaze for a moment before he looked at the control panel for his drill and shut it down. "Well, um. I've hit an air pocket, and my instruments are going crazy." He answered as he pointed at several areas of his control panel that were likely digital gauges.

_That_ seemed to get Megatron's attention, and he started to walk toward the miner without saying another word.

As Megatron walked toward the base of our cliff, Optimus looked at each one of us individually. "This is our only chance to recover the object before the Decepticons," he said. "Autobots, drop down on top of the mining drills and get into that air pocket as quickly as you can," he looked back down the cliff. "I will deal with Megatron," and with that, he stood and jumped off the cliff.

Without hesitation, we all stood and jumped off the cliff as Optimus had.

Arcee and Smokescreen, who had been lying prone next to me, landed on the control panels of the drills directly below where they were on the cliff, while I landed with a slam on the engine block between the drill and the control panel.

After landing on the engine block, I deployed my Scatter-Blaster and pointed it at the miner. "Get. Out." I said coolly, unintentionally quoting Robert Patrick as I aimed at the Decepticon.

"Frag you, Autobot!" The miner yelled with as much of a hateful look as the faceplate of an average Decepticon solider could muster, and reached under the control panel and pulled out an Ion Pistol he had hidden apparently hidden.

I fired a dozen pellets of weaponized energy at his chestplates before he could aim the pistol at me. But instead of ripping his chestplates apart, my shot merely scuffed his paint and make insignificant dent in his armor.

'What the hell?' I thought. At this range, a Scatter Blaster would have made a larger dent in my armor than it did in this Decepticon miner's armor. That wasn't good. If this low-ranked miner had armor at least on par with my own, than the Decepticons had gotten a serious upgrade.

The Decepticon chuckled at the result of my shot. "Ha! I guess this new armor really is as strong as Shockwave-"

That was as far as the miner got, because I picked him up by the neck and put the muzzle of my Scatter-Blaster right against the Decepticon's chesplates and fired a half dozen shots as fast as the Scatter-Blaster would fire. And only on the fifth shot did my Scatter-Blaster finally penetrate the Con's armor and send tiny metal fragments flying, then my sixth and final shot entered the miner's spark and offlined him instantly.

I dropped the now-offlined Decepticon back in the chair of the drill and quickly picked up one of the fragments of the miner's armor and sub-spaced it. Ratchet and Moonracer would certainly want to take a look at it under a microscope.

After I picked up the fragment, I looked left and saw that Arcee must have had trouble with the miner in the drill she landed on as well. But, judging by how the Con's helm was almost cut off, she had simply slashed the miner's throat with one of her servo-blades. And now she was already on her way over to me to help me move the drill I was standing on, with Ironhide, who hadn't landed on a drill, following closely following her.

"Move the drill off to the side as much as you can," she instructed Ironhide and I. "I'll crawl into that air pocket Shadow's miner mentioned and see if I can get whatever's causing the energy pulses."

"Got it," I said quickly, and then turned and pushed against the drill with all my strength as Ironhide wordlessly followed Arcee's instructions and joined me. Out of all the Autobots on Earth, Ironhide and I were two of the strongest physically, with the Wrecker officer noticeably stronger, but slower, than Optimus, while I came in a distant third behind the Prime.

But, even with the combined strength of Ironhide and I, the drill only moved a few feet. Whatever metal the drill was made out of, it was really fragging heavy. And as soon as we moved the drill and took a step back, the drill corrected its path and blocked the way again, Ironhide and I were going to have to hold the drill in place in order for Arcee to get through. But luckily, the few feet Ironhide and I managed to move the drill were just enough for Arcee to fold her wing-like appendages against her backplates and squeeze herself past the drill and into the air pocket beyond.

As Ironhide and I pushed against the drill and Arcee crawled into the air pocket, I looked around to see how everyone else was doing.

The twins had their swords deployed and were hacking and slashing at one of the miners who refused to leave their drill, but the swords of the twins were having little effect on the Decepticon, so their fight was likely going to last for a while.

Smokescreen was also fighting with the miner of the drill he landed on and was shooting him repeatedly in the chestplates with his servo-blaster, but he was having the same problem as the twins. His fight was also probably going to last a while.

It seemed that Arcee, the twins, Smokescreen, and I were the only ones who had trouble with the Decepticons operating the drills they landed on, because Optimus was standing between Megatron and the cliff, while everyone else was either teaming up to move a drill sideways to give them cover, or already taking cover behind a drill and aiming their weapons at Megatron.

The Decepticon leader gave a vicious grin at the sight of Optimus standing in front of him. "Optimus," he said, voice carrying a tone of false friendliness. "It has been so long since I saw you last, _brother,_" he spit the word out like it was poison. "Our reunion should not have taken as long as it has."

Megatron's statement confused me. He and Optimus were brothers? That didn't make any sense. I mean, yeah, they were brothers in the live-action movies, but I had known Optimus for almost an orbital-cycle and he hadn't given any indication that he and Megatron had ever been anything but rivals and mortal enemies.

I stopped my line of thought and focused on helping Ironhide keep the drill from moving and closing the gap Arcee used to get into the air pocket, this wasn't the time to wonder why Optimus hadn't mentioned he and Megatron were brothers. Besides, it looked like Optimus was about to respond.

"We stopped being brothers the moment you bombed the Six Lasers Over Cybertron and offlined dozens of innocents." The Prime said as he gave Megatron a steady look. "And we became enemies the moment you shot Halogen in the High Council Tower." He finished, then deployed the sword in his right servo and crouched slightly in a fighting stance.

Megatron laughed, an awful, yet genuinely amused sound when Optimus deployed his sword and got ready to fight. "Optimus, do you take me for a fool?" He asked with a grin like the one he gave the Prime before they started their conversation, a grin that quickly disappeared with his next words. "Are you hoping I will fight you one-on-one while your pathetic Autobots recover what we have both come to take?" The Decepticon leader looked over at Ironhide and I.

Knowing we were rapidly running out of time, I comm-linked Arcee. _"Arcee, how's it coming?"_ I asked, putting an urgent tone in my voice so she would know to hurry.

_"A klick or two and I'll have it out, why?"_ She asked in return, clearly not able to hear the conversation between our leader and Megatron.

_"Because we don't have a klick or two, Megatron's about to unleash hell on us,"_ I replied as I had the servo grips of my Nucleon and Ion Displacer in preparation for what I knew was coming, while I heard Ironhide's Riot Cannon hum to life as the Wrecker officer prepared as well.

_"Got it, doubling my efforts."_ Arcee responded, then closed the link with that.

While I was talking to Arcee, Megatron continued. "No, Optimus. I will not allow you to distract me from taking my prize, not when I have an army of Decepticons with me." Megatron turned and looked at the Decepticons behind him, who looked more than eager to fight us, then back at Optimus. "_Crush them!"_ He barked, then deployed a great sword from the wrist of his right servo and charged at Optimus, who charged right back.

All hell broke loose at that moment.

The seekers, who had continued to patrol the skies as Optimus and Megatron spoke, unleashed the first wave of weapons fire. They launched several missiles a piece at the cliff above us, turning the upper half of the cliff into little more than pebbles as literally hundreds of missiles impacted the rock face and detonated with the explosive force of roughly twenty Tomahawk Cruise Missiles, and causing huge slabs of rock to fall from the lower part of the cliff and land either on us, or between us and the Decepticons, giving us limited cover.

The second wave of weapons fire came from the ground-based Decepticons. And countless bullets of energy, globs of plasma, missiles, and even a few old-fashioned kinetic penetrators flew through the air and riddled the rock just above our helms, the rocks that had fallen from the cliff, and us, on occasion.

The twins were both hit a number of times by several types of directed energy weapons, and they both went down with several holes in their frames that bled energon, but they didn't seem to be severe since they were able to crawl behind a drill so Moonracer could patch them up.

After the second wave of weapons fire died down slightly, everyone who wasn't injured, treating the injured, fighting with the leader of the Decepticons, or keeping a mining drill from trapping the femme I was in love with in an air pocket returned fire with their built-in weapons.

Compared to the storm bullets that had come from the Decepticon side, our return fire was quite simply pathetic, and it was made even worse because of the fact that it seemed like every Decepticon was fitted with the same armor as the miner that I offined. But, I did see at least one Decepticon fall under the combined fire of Prowl, Jazz, and Bulkhead. Only about two-hundred and ninety-nine to go.

Chromia, who had taken cover behind a drill off to the left of Ironhide and I, came under fire from a pair of Insecticons and due to the volume of fire they were sending her way, she couldn't return the favor with her own weapons.

When Ironhide saw this, he looked over at me meaningfully, clearly asking me if he could go and help her.

"You don't even need to ask!" I yelled over the roar of combat around us. "Go, I'll be fine!"

Ironhide didn't need to be told twice. After making sure I had a good grip on the drill, the Wrecker officer ran off toward where his sparkmate was pinned down with a battle cry, firing several shots from his Riot Cannon as he went, managing to offline one of the massive Decepticons when two of his shots hit the same area of the Con's chestplates and entered his spark.

As Ironhide offlined the Insecticon and he and Chromia started to team up on the other one, I struggled to keep the drill from trapping Arcee in the air pocket by myself. When Ironhide was helping me, it was a fairly easy task, but now it was incredibly hard. For every inch I pushed the drill forward, it pushed me back three, meaning that the air pocket was rapidly closing.

I opened a comm-link with Arcee again. _"Hurry up, Arcee! I don't know how long I'll be able to keep the drill out of the way!"_ I said through the comm-link, ducking my helm as the seekers came for another pass and launched another wave of missiles at a lower portion of the cliff than the last time they passed over, sending more boulders tumbling down the cliff and falling down around us.

_"The fragging piece of slag's **stuck!**"_ Arcee yelled in reply, and closed the comm-link like she had done earlier.

Once Arcee closed the link, I looked around for someone or something to help me keep the drill from trapping Arcee.

There were a couple boulders off to the side that were giving me pretty good cover from the Decepticon weapons fire, I was getting hit by the occasional glob of plasma or bullet of energy, but it was nothing my armor and auto-repair systems couldn't handle. But, the boulders were too far away from me to let me prop my pedes against, or help me keep the drill in place at all, so they weren't an option.

Looking at the small gap between the drill and the side of the small tunnel it had created, I saw that there might just be enough room for me to prop my backplates against the drill and use my pedes to keep the drill out of the way.

Without delay, I moved closer to the side of the tunnel, making sure to keep as much pressure against the drill as I could. When I was as close to the tunnel as I could get, I turned around so my backplates were against the drill and braced my pedes against the side of the tunnel and pushed.

The dramatic increase in strength that my pedes allowed me to use against the drill allowed me to push the mining machine back to the position it was in when Ironhide was helping me and hold it in place. I didn't know how long I could keep the drill in place, but hopefully I could keep it there long enough for Arcee to get out.

After I braced myself against the tunnel wall, I looked over toward Optimus to see how he was doing against Megatron. The moment I looked at the Prime and the Decepticon leader, I was instantly amazed.

Optimus and Megatron were not far from where they had their brief stand-off. They were fighting alone, because no one in their right CPU would have dared to come between them. Their frames were a blur of silver, red, and blue as they punched and kicked at each other. Their swords were almost invisible due to how fast they, hacked, slashed, and stabbed at each other, while dodging and blocking their opponent's attacks.

In essence, their battle was as awe-inspiring and terrifying as the two bots fighting it.

My observation of the battle between Optimus and Megatron was interrupted when Arcee comm-linked me. _"Finally got the fragging thing and sub-spaced it. I'm on my way out."_ She said, then closed the link without waiting for a response.

A micro-klick after Arcee comm-linked me, I looked down and to the left and saw the blue and pink femme pull herself out of the air pocket and then crawl out into the battle just a few feet away.

Once Arcee was clear of the drill, I let my pedes go limp and rolled away from the mining machine as it covered the air pocket, and took cover behind one of the boulders directly in front of the drill.

"We need to get out of here. Like right now!" Arcee yelled to me as she took cover beside and deployed her Photon Burst Rifle and blindly fired around the rock.

"Agreed!" I yelled back. "You call for a ground bridge, I'll let Optimus know we've got what we came for!"

Arcee nodded opened a communications channel to base as she fired a few more bursts around the boulder. _"Arcee to base, we need a ground bridge, now!"_ She shouted, then closed the channel without waiting for Ratchet to respond.

Once Arcee closed her channel to base, I opened a comm-link with Optimus. _"Optimus, we recovered whatever's causing the energy pulses, the ground bridge will be here at any moment,"_ I said, then, knowing he was a little busy at the moment, closed the link with that.

No sooner had I closed the channel, did a ground bridge appear off to our far left, right next to Ironhide and Chromia, who quickly got into a defensive position to cover the escape of anyone who retreated through the green portal.

After the ground bridge appeared, I looked at Arcee. "You're carrying the object, that means you go first." I said, then pulled my Nucleon and Ion Displacer off my backplates.

Arcee nodded once. "Give me some covering fire," she said as she turned toward and ground bridge and bent her pedes in preparation for a sprint.

"On it," I replied as I leaned slightly and blindly fired a long burst from my Ion Displacer around our boulder, sending hundreds of ion bolts toward the mass of Decepticons and causing their fire to ebb for a brief moment. But a brief moment was all Arcee needed.

The instant I started to fire my Ion Displacer, Arcee was already moving toward the ground bridge. She rolled from one boulder to the other, sprinted through areas that had no cover, and vaulted over everything that got in her path until I saw her reach her sister and Ironhide and disappear into the green portal.

After I saw Arcee enter the ground bridge, I looked to see how everyone else was doing.

Optimus and Megatron were still battling each other with all they had, but Optimus was starting to intentionally give a little ground so he could keep Megatron's attention away from us while he slowly got closer to the ground bridge.

Everyone except Optimus were still firing at the Decepticons, but they had clearly seen the ground bridge. And they were slowly making their way toward me by having a few bots lay down covering fire while the others moved up, and then the ones moving up would get into cover and give covering fire to the bots originally firing moved up.

My fellow Autobots repeated this process until they were so close that Prowl and Bulkhead had to take cover behind the same boulder as me.

"Shadowstreaker, fire your Nucleon at the canyon floor, the smoke and dust from the explosions will allow us to advance without being seen." Prowl ordered as he leaned out of cover and fired a few bursts from his Photon Burst Rifle.

I acknowledged Prowl's order by leaning out from behind the other side of the boulder and firing my Nucleon at floor of the canyon. My shot exploded spectacularly and caused a cloud of smoke, rock, and dust to be thrown up in the air, nearly completely blocking the Decepticons on the other side of the canyon from view. I fired another shot at a different area of the canyon floor, and another, and another, until the entire area from where we stood to the ground bridge had so much dust in the air that what light from the Sun remaining in the cycle was almost obscured from sight, and prevented us from seeing more than ten meters in front of us.

After the dust hung over the area for a couple micro-klicks, my fellow Autobots stopped firing their weapons and waited for the Cons to lose track of where we were.

And sure enough, the Decepticons soon stopped firing their weapons as well, leaving us free to get to the ground bridge, for the moment anyway.

Prowl tapped me on the shoulder-joint after the Decepticons stopped firing. "Go, Shadowstreaker, we'll follow after you." He said quietly, obviously not wanting to give away our position now that the battlefield was almost completely silent, other than sound of the continuing fight between Megatron and Optimus somewhere in the dust cloud.

Nodding, I stepped out from behind the boulder and made my way as quietly as I could in the direction I knew the ground bridge was, with my fellow Autobots following behind me.

Other than the noise of Megatron and Optimus battling, the canyon was locked in a tense silence as we crept through the dust cloud. But it seemed that Prowl's plan was working like a charm, and not a shot was fired in our direction.

A few micro-klicks of sneaking through the dust cloud later, the light from the ground bridge became visible and quickly materialized in front of us, with Ironhide and Chromia still in a defensive position on either side of it.

I stepped off to the side to allow everyone else to enter the ground bridge once we reached the green portal.

Prowl went in first, followed closely by Bulkhead, then the twins, who were being supported by Moonracer and Bumblebee. Springer was the next one to enter the ground bridge, and I ignored the glare he sent my way as he walked passed me, Jazz followed him, then Jetfire went through, and Flareup followed him, then Smokescreen followed her.

I waved Elita, who was the last Autobot in line to enter the ground bridge, forward, but she shook her helm.

"I'm not leaving yet," she said firmly, and then turned toward where the sounds of the Prime and Megatron in battle were coming from, clearly having more than just a professional concern about Optimus' safety.

I didn't attempt to argue with Elita, Ironhide and Chromia weren't leaving either, and I wasn't going to leave without making sure Optimus was as well, and I would have done the same with if I hadn't seen one of any of my fellow Autobots enter the ground bridge. Even if Springer was the one not with us. Sure, he and I got along as well as oil and water, but that didn't mean I was going to leave him to be offlined by Decepticons. That wasn't how I was.

The four of us only had to wait for a few micro-klicks, because out of the dust cloud came the sound of a fist punching a faceplate, which was followed by the solid thump of a heel kick and a pained cry from Megatron.

The running frame of Optimus slowly formed out of the dust cloud a micro-klick after Megatron cried out, and the Prime came to a halt next to Elita.

Once Optimus arrived, Ironhide and Chromia finally moved from their defensive position next to the ground bridge and entered the green portal, and they were followed by quickly followed by Elita, then Optimus, and finally me.

Just before I stepped into the ground bridge, I heard Megatron give an enraged yell at the fact we managed to escape, but it was cut off when I finished stepping into the green portal and disappeared.

* * *

><p><strong>December 23, 2012 3:47 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper Nevada**

After I exited the ground bridge, I saw everyone besides Springer, who was leaning against the wall with a look of disinterest on his faceplate, and Optimus, who was walking a few meters ahead of me, had been facing the ground bridge and waiting for the Prime and I to step out of the green portal.

As soon as Optimus and I stepped out of the ground bridge, Ratchet shut it down by entering a command into his workstation, and then turned and started to walk toward the med-bay. "We can have our debriefing in the med-bay, while Moonracer and I repair these two," he said, pulling a wrench out of sub-space and hitting the twins in the back of the helm as he passed them on his way into the hallway.

"Watch the paint," Sunstreaker said in a weaker voice than usual, clearly in severe pain from his injuries, as well as those of his twin.

No one said anything after Sunstreaker spoke, we merely walked in silence as we followed Ratchet to the med-bay.

When we reached the med-bay a short and uneventful walk later, the med-bay door opened automatically and Moonracer and Bumblebee set the twins down on two different medical berths, then the rest of us filed through and picked a spot to stand that wasn't in Ratchet or Moonracer's way. Not an easy task, considering how many of us there were.

"So," Ratchet began once we were all in the med-bay, picking up a medical tool from a table and beginning to work on repairing Sideswipe's injuries, while Moonracer attended to Sunstreaker's. "What was causing the energy pulses?" He asked.

Every optic that wasn't busy repairing the injuries of the wounded turned to Arcee for answers.

The blue and pink femme took a step forward. "This is what the energy pulses were originating from," she said, then opened a sub-space pocket and pulled out a crystal.

The crystal Arcee pulled from her sub-space was orthorhombic in shape, looking like two equally-sized pyramids stuck together. And it was small, only about five feet in length and about half as wide in the middle. But despite its small size, it was shining an unbelievably bright white. It was so bright in fact, that I had to restrict the amount of light my optics were taking in to even look directly at the crystal.

As I looked at the crystal, I got the sense it was old, incredibly old, and powerful, CPU-bendingly powerful. It was immediately clear to me that this crystal was far more than what it appeared to be.

But to Miko, who was sitting on Bulkhead's shoulder-joint with Jack and Raf, it was just something cool-looking, and she was staring at the crystal and didn't seem to care how bright it was. "Oooh, shiny!" She said in typical Miko fashion, eyes wide with wonder and excitement, while also likely trying to figure out how she could find a way to get the crystal from Arcee so she could hold it.

Ratchet turned from his repairs to Sunstreaker and raised one of his optic ridges slightly at the sight of the small crystal in Arcee's servo. "Are you sure _that_ is what was causing the energy pulses, Arcee?" He asked with a tone that was somewhere between amusement and curiosity.

The femme I had fallen for didn't respond, instead, she just put her servo out and let go of the crystal, turning her servo at the last moment to make sure it fell sidesways. But instead of falling to the floor, the crystal fell for about ten feet before it started to hover in place and then right itself so that one of its pyramids was pointed arrow-straight at the med-bay ceiling. After it corrected itself, it started to rotate slowly as its hover changed between ten and twenty feet off the med-bay floor, staying in place as it did so.

Everyone except Arcee stood in a shocked silence for several micro-klicks, and I was shocked along with them. I had done more than a little research on Cybertronian technology, and while it was very common Cybertronians to use anti-gravity fields, it was unheard of for something to have an anti-gravity field without even appearing to be equipped with a device that created such a field, let alone be as small as the crystal was.

After the silence continued for a couple more micro-klicks, Arcee gave Ratchet a dry look. "Yes, Ratchet, I'm sure." She said, tone as dry as the look on her faceplate.

The blue and pink femme's words seemed to break all of us out of our stupor, and Ratchet abandoned his repairs of Sunstreaker for the moment and walked over to the floating crystal and started to scan it.

As Ratchet started his scan of the crystal, I realized something Arcee said in the canyon didn't make very much sense to me and looked over at her. "Wait a klick. If the crystal can hover on its own, then why did you say it was stuck, Arcee? Wasn't it just hovering in the air pocket?" I asked with a confused look on my faceplate.

Arcee shook her helm. "When I found it, it was being held in place by a metallic orb that was producing some kind of magnetic field, it only started to hover when I got it out of the field." She explained.

Her explanation confused me even more. "But how was a magnetic field keeping the crystal in place?" I asked. "Crystals aren't even magnetic."

"I'm just telling you what I saw, I have no idea." Arcee replied with a shrug.

"I do," Ratchet said as he looked at his scanner, causing every pair of eyes and optics to shift to him. "Well, I have a clue." The white and red medic added when he noticed everyone looking at him.

"And what is this clue, Ratchet?" Optimus asked from where he stood next to Elita.

Ratchet typed a command into his scanner and its display changed to a series of charts that only someone like Moonracer or him would have understood. "My scanner says that the crystal is actually made out of a metal alloy it is identifying both as ferrous and non-ferrous, but it is also identifying it as a crystalline solid. It says that the crystal is both a synthetic creation _and_ an organic formation. It is identifying it both as energon and Dark Energon, but also _not even_ energon. It is identifying the energy the crystal is giving off as dark energy, and yet it is also idenfying it as gamma radiation-"

"In a language we can understand, Hatchet," Sideswipe interrupted from his medical berth.

Ratchet sent a glare Sideswipes way for the nickname, but just shook his helm and answered. "The crystal shouldn't even be in _existence_, and yet here it is. I believe it was created by _someone_. The question is by who, when, and why." He said, looking down at his scanner again and typing in a few more commands.

"Maybe the Thirteen created it?" Bulkhead offered hopefully.

"Possibly," the white and red medic answered. "But until Moonracer and I can figure out what it even _is_, anything's a possibility."

"Then the crystal is under your care until you are able to determine its origin and purpose, Ratchet." Optimus said to the white and red medic, then looked at the rest of us. "Autobots, we will continue this debriefing at a later time. Dismissed." He turned around and walked out of the med-bay with that.

After Optimus left, everyone who wasn't a medic or a patient slowly made their way out of the med-bay until only Arcee and I were left.

"Want to go use the combat simulator?" Arcee asked. "Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have been bragging all mega-cycle about how their high scores for partner-based simulations aren't going to get beaten-"

"That's because it's true!" Sideswipe interjected from his medical berth.

Arcee looked over at the red twin briefly befor giving me a smirk. "I think we should prove them wrong, don't you, Shadow'?" She asked.

I smiled. "It couldn't hurt to try, let's go." I said, turning around and walking toward the med-bay door with Arcee following me.

It was a short walk from the med-bay to the elevator, and after we both got in the elevator, Arcee pushed the button for the Safe and the elevator started to move down.

Arcee and I descended into a comfortable silence after the elevator started to move, but I made sure it didn't last very long, because this was pretty much as perfect a time as to give Arcee her birthday present as it got.

"Hey, Arcee." I asked to get her attention, and continued once she turned her helm toward me. "Happy birthday." I said with a smile.

The femme that had captured my spark gave an exasperated sigh. "I haven't mentioned my creation day at all when you're around. How'd you even know it's my creation day this cycle?" She asked in a tone as exasperated as the sigh she had given, but I could tell by the look in her optics that she was more shocked by how I knew it was her creation day than annoyed.

"I accidentally heard Elita and Chromia ask you what you wanted for your creation day," I answered, keeping the smile on my faceplate. "And I'll have you know, I didn't go down to the armory and get you a gun, that's just being cheap and lazy." I added, then opened the sub-space pocket I put the musket in and reached inside to grab it.

Arcee sighed and looked away for a moment. "Why is it that everyone around me wants to get me a present?" She asked, more like talking to herself than speaking to me, and then looked back at me. "Look, Shadow'. It was really nice of you to get me a gift, but I don't nee-" Her speech come to an abrupt halt when she saw me pull the musket out of my sub-space.

I held the tiny, inert weapon out to her. "Happy birthday," I repeated my earlier statement, then set the musket down in her servo.

After I set the musket down in Arcee's servo, she stared down at it blankly, as if she was confused and in complete disbelief, which had me worried. Either she was stunned that I had given her something she couldn't actually use, or she had no clue what the musket was.

When she continued staring the musket until the elevator arrived at the Safe, my smile fell and I cleared my throat to explain. "That's a-

"Revolutionary War musket," Arcee finished for me. "I know. You got it when we found that weapons stach a couple mega-cycles back, you got really excited when you realized what it was." She looked up at me. "You love this antique, why did you give it to me?" She asked with an unreadable emotion filling her voice and optics.

I immediately crushed the urge to say 'Because I love you more', and allowed my smile to return to my faceplate. "You're my partner, Arcee. Sure I love that antique, but I wasn't going to not get you a present, especially one you weren't going to like." I replied, then quickly added. "You do like it, don't you?"

Arcee didn't respond for a long time, she just kept giving me the same unreadable look. Finally, she blinked and looked back down at the musket. "I do like it, Shadow'. I love it, in fact," she said with a smile, though it seemed false, like something she just found out troubled her.

I let the false smile go without asking about it. "Then let's go and see if we can break the twin's high scores, it would be nice to see their egos deflated, even for just a solar-cycle or two." I said, still smiling as I turned and walked out into the Safe and headed for the combat simulator.

Had I still been in the elevator, I would have seen the sad and regretful look Arcee gave my backplates before she sub-spaced the musket and moved to catch up with me.

* * *

><p><strong>Alright, so Springer's an aft *What a shock*, Jazz has made it his mission to get Shadow' and Arcee under a Mistletoe, the Autobots have recovered a crystal, whose purpose they do not know, Shadow' and Arcee had a semi-fluffy moment, and... Well, I leave that last paragraph to your own interpretation... Though I left a clue about as subtle as a hammer. Lol.<br>**

**This chapter's credit song is "Saosin - You're Not Alone" It really suits the last scene of the chapter, especially the very end.  
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******So, please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.******


	25. Operation Breakdown

**And I finally got this freaking chapter done. *Gives a sigh of relief* _That _certainly took forever, but as a result, I have no broken my record for my personal longest chapter... For the third straight time. But, as usual, I am sorry for taking so long, this chapter gave me a lot of problems, and the fact I got Fall of Cybertron didn't help... Escalation is too much fun. And I am sorry in advance if I rushed at any point, I honestly was getting tired of writing this chapter, went on a lot longer than it should have.  
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**Anyway, I am not going to discuss the season 2 finale of Prime, I am just not. Makes me too mad. The series was starting to become inconsistent before the finale, but it went to an entirely new level in that episode.**

**Also, I forgot to mention last chapter that I had changed something back in chapter *thinks for a moment* six, in the chapter where Shadow' first becomes a Cybertronian. I at first said in that chapter that Cybertron was 'several-hundred light-years from Earth' well, I changed that. Big time. So, in the continuity of Fate Calls, Cybertron is now located in the Triangulum galaxy.  
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**Lastly, I want to again thank everyone who reviewed. I really can't thank you all enough for reading and leaving me feedback. :)  
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**On that note, there is one review I am not replying to because... Well, I can't see it... Lol. I don't know why, but I can't. So, whoever you are, thank you for leaving feedback.  
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****Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.****

****TerraPrime - You are quite welcome! And I am glad you enjoy reading it.  
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****Autobot Shadowstalker - I left you waiting for a long time, didn't I? Haha sorry. And you will just have to read to find out, won't you? I hope you like my explanation.  
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****KayleeChiara - Definitely a lot to go over. Haha. Thank you for thinking it was a nice mix of interaction and action, I am still trying to find the best mix between the two. Wait no longer! And you are welcome!  
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****jayna prime - I did enjoy writing that scene between Shadow' and Ironhide it was fun coming up with the Cybertronian version of H-O-R-S-E. Lol. And yes, Springer is a glitch/jerk. Funny, when you think about it, he is being a jerk to a guy who can *and has* beat the living crap out of him. Lol. You will know what to think of the Delphic after this chapter. :) And it's not the end of the world... Just a paradox in the space-time continuum. Lol.  
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****TransformersAndJesusFan - Thanks. :) And I have read fics where the main character and the love interest realize they have feelings for the other... Go through the stubborn phase, and get together in *you ready?* one-thousand words... I wish I was kidding. The romance subplot isn't interesting when it is really fast like that, so I am taking things very slowly in Fate Calls. Hopefully, I can keep the romance subplot interesting. :)  
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****AllSpark Princess - I am glad you think so. I am trying to write humorous moments more often, seeing where it takes me. And I didn't do a good job of updating soon, did I? Ha.  
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****CHAOS - I was kinda inspired by the crystal that wasn't a crystal in that movie. There's just something about it that makes you think more. Thanks for leaving feedback. :)  
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****pfolk - I thought it would be a good gift for Arcee. She likes guns quite a bit.  
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*****Doesn't acknowledge the existence of the season 2 finale* I am not planning on following the plot-line of the second season. I have my own plot already planned out.  
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****Ah. I see what you mean now. I have a _lot_ of ideas for stories, one wouldn't leave me alone and I had to write and post the prologue, but I don't plan on writing more than one main story at a time, I want to focus completely on the story I am currently writing. That way, I don't lose track of my ideas for my stories.  
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****WILDTRON01 - They're one of my top favorite bands, if not _the _top favorite of mine. They have so many songs that go with so many different situations, perfect writing. Lol, I have done that before, I face-palmed. Haha. And that is my personal favorite of her stories, though, the fact I am a character in it might have something to do with it. Lol. I have yet to see any episodes of G1 that are after the 1986 movie, so I don't know what his personality is like, but I know who he is.  
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****magical fan18 - That would be because I was just starting out writing when I wrote that chapter, and you are a little late to offer suggestions for alt modes. Sorry. Ha.  
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****And we discussed your second review through PM'ing.  
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******Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.******

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><p><strong>December 25, 2012 1:58 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

Two solar-cycles had passed since we recovered the Delphic, the name Raf had given the crystal we brought back from Colorado.

Moonracer and Ratchet were spending most of their time in the med-bay as they studied the Delphic, as well as the miner's armor fragment I had sub-spaced, which I had given the two medics the same cycle we recovered the Delphic. So far, Ratchet and Moonracer hadn't been able to figure out exactly what the Delphic was, or identify what metal the armor fragment was made of. But, with those two studying both objects almost constantly, answers likely weren't going to elude them for long.

Other than Ratchet and Moonracer spending most of their time studying the Delphic and armor fragment, nothing really noteworthy had occurred in the last two solar-cycles. Well, except for how Arcee and I had beaten several of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's high scores for partner-based simulations after I had given her the Revolutionary War musket. The twins were far from pleased when they found that out. And they had tried four times to top the high scores of Arcee and I since they got out of the med-bay, they hadn't succeeded, yet, anyway. But, for the moment, the high scores of Arcee and I were the best for partner-based simulations in the combat simulator.

Coincidentally, the combat simulator was where Arcee and I were at the moment.

I whipped my Holo-Rifle around and fired a controlled pair at the blue, almost transparent hologram of a Decepticon that had been running up the staircase off to the left of Arcee and I.

One round hit the fake Decepticon in the chestplates, while the other hit him in the helm, causing the hologram's helm to explode in a shower of digital gore before the hologram itself derezzed and flickered from existence.

Except for the Holo-Rifle, which was an actual working rifle that functioned like a laser tag gun except it needed to be reloaded and had a realistic amount of recoil, and the buildings, which would require too much power to create in holographic form, everything in the combat simulator was basically one giant hologram. A hologram that could be modified for any number of situations, including your mission objectives, the types and amounts of enemies you faced, or even the kind of glass in the windows. Basically, anything you could see, you could modify it to your liking.

I ejected the now-depleted energy cell from my Holo-Rifle and looked over at Arcee, who had just snipped two Shotgunners that had attempted to run into the lower level of the building she and I were holed up in. "How are we doing?" I asked, loading a fresh energy cell into my Holo-Rifle and aiming it down the narrow hallway on the opposite side of the room from the staircase.

"I got five energy cells left," Arcee replied as she fired her Holo-Rifle, which she had configured to be a fifteen-shot semi-automatic sniper rifle for this simulation, and took the helm off a Decepticon that had tried to bring out his own sniper rifle and counter-snipe her. "So, I'm good on ammo for the moment. You?"

I looked down at the ammo pack on my hip. Three energy cells left, which gave me twenty-four shots since I had my Holo-Rifle configured like an M1 Garand, deadly accurate, huge amount of stopping power, but only eight rounds per clip. "I'm down to three spares." I said as I shifted my attention between the hallway and the staircase, waiting for the holograms that would inevitably rush our position again. "I'm going to have to make a rush for an ammunition dispenser after this clip."

"Again?" Arcee asked in mock exasperation as she took the helm off another holographic Decepticon and reloaded her own Holo-Rifle. "You run out of ammo too much."

"Perhaps. But at least I didn't need to be rescued from a Heavy Soldier," I joked, referring to when Arcee had gotten pinned down earlier in the simulation because her sniper didn't have enough stopping power to inflict much damage to a holographic Heavy Soldier.

"That wasn't my fault!" Arcee protested with a smile as she dropped another fake Decepticon with a helmshot. "The armor of a Heavy Soldier is almost as strong as yours. My sniper isn't meant to pierce armor that tough."

"Which is why I sacrificed magazine capacity for stopping power," I said casually, as if Arcee and I weren't in a simulated combat zone, but were instead debating about what music genre was the best. "It allows me to deal with the more heavily-armored enemies and the average soldiers." I finished, bringing up my Holo-Rifle and putting two controlled pairs into the chestplates of a pair of Decepticon holograms that came running down the hallway, offlining both holograms and causing them to derezz.

"You might have stopping power by using that configuration, but you also made your Holo-Rifle ineffective for crowd control," Arcee countered, firing three shots from her own Holo-Rifle in rapid succession and taking the helms off three more holograms. "Which is essential part of any weapon you use in the combat simulator."

I shrugged even though Arcee's backplates were to me. "I know, but setting up my Holo-Rifle like a Scrapmaker every time we come in here was getting a little boring, so I decided to mix it up a little and use a semi-automatic rifle instead of an automatic weapon." I said, firing two more controlled pairs down the hallway and offlining another pair of holographic Decepticons, then ejected the energy cell and loaded in a fresh one. "But, it seems as though that decision is biting me in the aft, because I need ammo." I looked at Arcee over my shoulder-joint. "I'll be back."

"Don't take too long," Arcee said as she shot a seeker hologram that had just landed out in front of our building. "It would be terrible if I got offlined in the simulator because you took too long getting ammo... Again." She teased, looking away from her sniper scope long enough to flash me a quick smile before returning to shooting the helms off holographic Decepticons.

I rolled my optics at her teasing as I started walking toward the hallway with my Holo-Rifle up to my shoulder-joint. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up while you can, because I think I heard a Heavy Soldier nearby." I shot back as I entered the hallway, ducking under the depleted energy cell I knew Arcee was going to throw at my helm for my comment and continuing into the narrow corridor.

"That wasn't my fault!" I heard the blue and pink femme yell just before I came to the end of the hallway and went down another hallway to the left, which I knew would lead me to the nearest ammunition dispenser, and stepped out of hearing distance.

After I stepped out of hearing distance, I slowly moved the barrel of my Holo-Rifle back and for between the right and left sides of the hallway, checking my corners for any Decepticon holograms that might try to take a shot at me while I moved through the hallway.

And sure enough, when I had continued down the hallway for a few moments, the hologram of a Decepticon Shotgunner leaned around the corner of a doorway on the left side of the corridor and fired a shot from his Scatter-Blaster.

The Decepticon's shot hit me in the chestplates and sent a prolonged electric shock through my chassis, causing me to let out hiss of pain from the shot. While getting shot in the combat simulator didn't cause any damage like an actual shot would, getting shot in the simulator was far more painful than actually getting shot. It was a training technique that was meant to encourage you to take cover any chance you could. It was effective at getting the point across that cover was your best friend in a battle, but it was quite annoying when you had already been through training and knew that getting shot in the simulator was more painful than getting shot by a real weapon.

Once the electric shock from the shot subsided, I aimed my Holo-Rifle at the hologram's chestplates and pulled the trigger twice, but instead of firing a controlled pair into the fake Decepticon, the quiet hum of a fully-powered Cybertronian weapon died without warning.

Scrunching my optic ridges in confusion, I looked down at the Holo-Rifle in my servos. The Holo-Rifle's barrel had retracted back into the firing chamber, and the stock had folded itself against the side of the rifle, making the Holo-Rifle look more like a meaningless slab of metal instead of a Cybertronian weapon.

Right away, I knew the Holo-Rifle had been powered down. And since I hadn't told it to shut down, that meant someone had just remotely stopped the combat simulator from the ops center, and that in turn meant either we had a power surge, which was very unlikely, or there was something serious going down that required all Autobots on base to get to the ops center.

Looking up from my Holo-Rifle, I saw that the fake Decepticon had faded from existence, leaving me standing in an empty hallway. But, the hallway wouldn't even be here in a few klicks, because, to put it plainly, the combat simulator was like a non-sentient Cybertronian. But, instead of transforming into a vehicle, the simulator could create any structure you could design, and was able to replicate any kind of organic and non-organic terrain. And after a simulation ended, the combat simulator reverted to its default state, a large, featureless room attached to the Safe, just off to the side of the weapons range and the armory.

I stood in the hallway for a brief moment before I turned around and walked back the way I just came from. And when I rounded the corner, I saw that Arcee was already waiting for me next to the stairs.

"So, what do you think is going on up in the ops center?" The blue and pink femme asked as I walked out of the hallway and we both started to descend the stairs.

"I don't know for sure. But whatever it is, it has to be important. Optimus hasn't ordered for the simulator to be shut down in the time I've been here, so it must be serious. Maybe Ratchet and Moonracer have detected another Delphic." I responded as Arcee and I came to the bottom of the stairs and stepped out of the building, which was shifting and folding itself into a block of metal as it started to sink into the floor, along with the other buildings Arcee and I designed before we started our combat simulation.

"Perhaps, but they would have likely just commed us if that were the case." Arcee said as we stepped out the door leading out into the Safe and placed our ammo packs and Holo-Rifles on a weapon rack next to the door. "Maybe there's Con activity in multiple locations. They have been quiet since we stole the Delphic right out of their servos."

I was about to add another thought into my conversation with Arcee, but I noticed that someone had left a Path Blaster on the divider between the weapons range and the rest of the Safe. And since it would be lazy of me to leave it for someone else to put away, I picked it up off the divider and walked over to the armory so I could put it on its proper rack. "If Decepticon activity is the reason for Optimus shutting down the simulator, then let's hope we'll be able to fight the Cons on even ground for once. It has been getting harder and harder to battle the Decepticons since Megatron re-took command, and the Dark Matter arrived." I said, entering the armory and placing the Path Blaster in its proper place.

"The recent addition of the Decepticons' new armor hasn't been helping, either." Arcee said as I walked out of the armory and we continued walking toward the elevator.

"No, it hasn't. We've had a tough enough time fighting the Decepticons even without their new armor," I said. "Hopefully, Ratchet and Moonracer will be able to find a weakness in the armor fragment we can exploit in the next skirmish we have with the Cons."

"One only can hope," Arcee said, then fell silent as we reached the elevator and stepped past Bumblebee and Flareup, who had been holding the elevator for us, and stood in the back of the lift.

Once Arcee and I got into the elevator, Bumblebee pressed the button for ground level and the four of us started our ascent to the ops center.

Almost immediately after the elevator started moving, I noticed that Bumblebee's door-wings were shifting constantly like they had when Flareup first arrived on Earth, and for some reason he seemed to find the wall and ceiling of the elevator very interesting.

Glancing to where Flareup stood on the opposite side of the elevator from Bumblebee, I saw that the orange and red femme's servos were fidgeting and she was looking everywhere except at Bumblebee.

'Wow, they are really awkward when they're in the same space.' I thought, looking between Flareup and Bumblebee as they did the best they could to avoid looking at each other. It was so obvious that they liked each other that it was painful, and yet they were totally oblivious as to how the other bot felt. I was going to have to have a talk with Bumblebee sometime soon. Hopefully, I could convince him to ask Flareup out, maybe find a little happiness in what was at least a mutual attraction.

After looking between Bumblebee and Flareup once more, I looked at Arcee and opened a comm-link with her. "You know, Bumblebee and Flareup look really uncomfortable being so close together. Don't you wonder why?" I asked through the link, tone filled with dry sarcasm as I gestured toward the yellow and black scout and Flareup with my helm.

Arcee didn't reply through the link, she just looked between Bumblebee and Flareup for a few micro-klicks before she looked back at me and closed the link with an amused, mischievous smile, like she knew I was planning on talking with Bumblebee, and was planning on doing something similar with Flareup. But, her smile still seemed... Off somehow. And there was something hidden in her optics that was almost... Sad, like something was making her depressed, maybe even wistful. But the look in her optics was gone before I knew for sure, and she quickly shifted her attention to the elevator control panel, not even glancing in my direction again.

I narrowed my optics slightly after Arcee looked away from me. That was the third time she had smiled like that since I gave her the Revolutionary War musket. It was clear to me that something was bothering her, but for some reason, she wasn't telling me what that something was. And that had me confused. Arcee and I were partners, when something is bothering one us, we go to our partner for advice or reassurance on the matter that bothers us. But Arcee hadn't told me about anything bothering her.

'Perhaps Bumblebee isn't the only one I should have a talk with soon,' I thought, tearing my gaze away from Arcee as the elevator reached the ground floor and the four of us stepped into the hallway.

After a short, uneventful walk, we entered the ops center, and were greeted by an unexpected sight.

Over on the catwalk near the workstation, with Optimus, Ratchet, Jazz, Jetfire, Springer, and the twins standing in front of him, was General Shepherd. He looked like he was anxious about something, although, being a disciplined soldier, Shepherd was hiding his anxiety very well.

Shortly after the four of us stepped into the ops center, Optimus noticed our presence and turned to look at us. But, he directed his gaze at Flareup, since this was the first time the government liaison and the S.T.F leader had visited since she arrived.

"Flareup, this is Lieutenant General Shepherd, the leader of a human task force dedicated to fighting the Decepticons." The Prime said, gesturing to S.T.F's leader with a servo, then looked at the human and gestured to Flareup. "General Shepherd, meet Flareup, our demolitions expert."

General Shepherd looked at Flareup, causing the orange and red femme to rub the back of her neck nervously and give the human a timid wave with her other servo. "Hi," she said in a quiet, sheepish tone, much like the tone she used when I first met her.

Shepherd raised his eye brows slightly at Flareup's shy demeanor. "If you don't mind my saying, you aren't quite what I expected an Autobot demolitions expert to be. You seem to be a little too... Young," he said, looking like he was confused as to why such a shy and quiet femme was an expert on explosives. Had he known that Flareup could be... Well, a pyromaniac at times, I doubt he would have been confused.

"That's because I am young. By the standards of your race, General Shepherd, Bumblebee and I would be considered young adults." Flareup said, a slightly sad tone entering her voice as she rubbed the back of her neck again and looking away from the general. "War never lets the young stay young for long."

Shepherd's face remained impassive as Flareup spoke, but I saw a slightly mortified look enter his eyes when the orange and red femme said she and Bumblebee would be considered child soldiers if they were human. "No it does not," he said in a voice that was a little quieter than it was a moment ago. His gaze lingered on Flareup for another moment before the mortified look in his eyes disappeared with a blink and he looked at Optimus again. "Since Arcee, Shadowstreaker, Bumblebee, and Flareup weren't here for the briefing I gave you and the rest of your troops, do you want me to go over it again, Optimus?"

Ratchet sighed before the Prime could respond to Shepherd's question and looked at Optimus as well. "Optimus, I have already wasted half a breem standing here as I wait for you to give an order to open a ground bridge when Moonracer and I could have been using the time to run more tests on the crystal. And I am going to waste more time going on the mission with you. Must we go through this briefing again?" He asked in an exasperated and annoyed tone.

Optimus looked over at the white and red medic. "Your presence is needed on the mission, Ratchet. You will be able to continue your tests on the crystal after we have returned, and Moonracer has finished treating Bulkhead's injuries."

"Wait," I interrupted. "Bulkhead was injured? When?" I asked evenly, though I was concerned about Bulkhead's status.

Springer scoffed. "Like you actually give a damn," he said, turning his helm to glare at me. "You're not a Wrecker, frag off."

I looked over at Springer and returned his glare with an icy look. "So, because I am not a Wrecker, I do not have the right to ask about the status of an injured friend?" I asked, voice calm, yet dripping with sarcasm. "Your attempts to get me into a shouting match are getting worse, Springer."

"And all the 'high and mighty' slag you spew makes me sick to my tank," the green Triple-Changer shot back.

"Enough," Optimus said before I could even open my mouth to reply to Springer's words. "This is no time for a dispute. _Both_ of you should know better," he reprimanded, looking between Springer and I with a firm and commanding look in his optics.

"My apologies," I said humbly, looking away from Springer and folding my servos behind my backplates. "It won't happen again, Prime."

The green Triple-Changer huffed. "Whatever," he said, then crossed his servos over his chestplates and leaned against the wall he was standing next to. But when Optimus continued looking at him, he rolled his optics. "_Prime_," he added, making the word sound more like a curse than the most famed title and rank among all Cybertronians.

Optimus continued staring at Springer for another moment before he looked at me again. "To answer your question, Shadowstreaker, Bulkhead was injured during his patrol when he had an encounter with Breakdown. He called for a ground bridge forty-five klicks ago, and Moonracer has been treating his injuries since his return to base." He said, clarifying what he said to Ratchet.

"Then I hope Bulkhead recovers quickly, Prime." I said, then fell silent with that short statement.

With my question answered, Optimus turned to General Shepherd, who, while looking reserved, seemed to be surprised to see how different Springer and I were personality-wise, and how hostile we were toward each other. "My chief medical officer does bring up a valid point, General Shepherd, we have spent enough time discussing this mission." The Prime said, continuing his earlier statement as if I had never interrupted him. "Perhaps giving Arcee, Bumblebee, Flareup, and Shadowstreaker a condensed version of the data you gave us earlier would be better than going into the detail you did for your first briefing."

General Shepherd looked between Springer and I for a moment, then glanced at Optimus and acknowledged his words with a nod before looking at Arcee, Bumblebee, Flareup, and I. "Four hours ago, one of the S.T.F's satellites detected the thermal signatures of multiple human vehicles moving into an abandoned Trona mining town in Wyoming. After analyzing the thermal signatures, we determined that MECH has just setting up shop there."

"What's MECH and the S.T.F?" I heard Flareup whisper to Bumblebee as Shepherd paused for a brief moment.

_"I'll tell you later,"_ Bumblebee replied quickly as the S.T.F's leader opened his mouth to continue.

"Two hours ago, as I prepared to send Shadow Company out to the mining town, our satellite detected the thermal signatures of two Cybertronians. One of them was your armorer, Bulkhead, and the other was the Decepticon you call Breakdown," General Shepherd explained. "Our satellite recorded them fighting for several minutes before it passed around the curvature of the Earth. We lost satellite coverage in the area for approximately ten minutes while we repositioned another satellite," he continued. "When we regained our satellite coverage, there was only one Cybertronian thermal signature, and it was incapacitated. The MECH vehicles had also vanished. While my analysts had ideas as to what happened to the MECH and the other Cybertronian, it wasn't until I came here and spoke with Optimus Prime that we were able to come up with a solid theory."

"And what theory is that?" Arcee prompted as she put a servo on her hip.

Optimus answered her question instead. "That MECH has captured Breakdown, presumably to achieve their ultimate goal of obtaining Cybertronian technology and learning how we work," he said, then added in a more grim tone, "By any means they deem necessary."

Understanding dawned on me and I looked at Optimus. "So, we're going to rescue Breakdown from MECH to prevent them from learning anything about our physiology," I said, more of a statement than a question, then looked at General Shepherd. "And while we're looking for Breakdown, you're going to send Shadow Company after MECH."

"They're already in position," Shepherd said. "But since any move you make to recover Breakdown would send MECH running for the hills, they're waiting on the edges of the town for you to arrive."

"And now that we have all been informed of the situation, I believe it is time we stopped making the soldiers of Shadow Company wait for our arrival," Optimus said, snapping his battle mask over his faceplate and looking at Ratchet. "Open the ground bridge," he ordered simply.

Ratchet sighed, as if he was resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to run another test on the Delphic until we were back from the mission, then typed a command into the workstation. And a moment later, the ground bridge opened and he walked over to it.

After Ratchet opened the ground bridge, Optimus looked at Jazz. "Jazz, you are on ground bridge duty," he instructed, then walked over to the ground bridge as well.

Jazz didn't respond, just inclined his helm to show that he was acknowledging Optimus' command and turned to the workstation as Bumblebee and Flareup walked over to the ground bridge.

"You know, I've never been on a rescue mission for a Con," Arcee said as she and I started walking toward the others.

"There's a first time for everything, I suppose," I said as Arcee and I joined our fellow Autobots in front of the ground bridge.

Once Arcee and I joined the others, Optimus stepped through the ground bridge and we all followed in his steps. And soon, all ten of us stepped into the green portal and were transported hundreds of miles in an instant.

* * *

><p><strong>December 25, 2012 3:17 P.M<strong>

**Outside of an abandoned mining town in Fremont county Wyoming**

The biting cold of Wyoming hit me like a Nucleon shot to the faceplate. It wasn't as cold as Antarctica, but it was much colder than Colorado, probably about forty or forty-five degrees colder, in fact. But that was counting the thirty mile-an-hour crosswind hitting my left side. Without wind chill, the climate was only about ten degrees colder than Colorado's.

Glancing up at the sky, I saw nothing except a light grey cloud cover I had often seen in upstate New York before it started to snow, which was probably what was going to happen here in a few klicks.

Looking away from the sky and at our immediate surroundings, I saw that the ground was covered in around three feet of powdery snow, a common sight in this area of the United States. And about a kilometer ahead of us, there were several human buildings grouped together next to a small mountain.

"So," Flareup said, causing my observations to come to a halt. "Humans make their homes here? Intentionally?" She asked Bumblebee with a disbelieving look on her faceplate.

I answered Flareup's question instead. "Humanity is a stubborn race, if they want to live in harsh conditions, they will."

"I'll take that as a compliment," a voice from behind me said with a familiar Scottish accent.

One of the corners of my mouth twitched upward in a slight smile and I turned and looked down in time to see Soap MacTavish pull himself out of a foxhole he had apparently dug in the snow and, judging by the silver material he was trying, and failing, to fold up, covered with a thermal blanket. The Scotsman wearing an arctic version of the flak jackets and ACU-type clothes Shadow Company used in Afghanistan, complete with a white ski-mask and goggles that covered his face and eyes, obviously to keep his face as warm as possible, and block out the glare of the white snow. And he was equipped with a suppressed M-320A that was covered with an arctic camouflage paint job, making the weapon hard to see against the snow. He also had some sort of large pack on his back, but I couldn't determine what it was for.

"A pleasure to see you again, Captain MacTavish," I said, then raised one optic ridge when I heard Soap curse when the wind took a hold of his thermal blanket, causing it to unfold and making Soap lunge to grab it before it flew away. "Are you having trouble with that?" I asked dryly.

Soap glared up at me, which wasn't an easy feat considering how his face was covered, as other Shadow Company soldiers pulled thermal blankets from their own foxholes and got up, some of them were chuckling quietly, presumably from my joke. "You're hilarious, you know that, Shadowstreaker?" The Scotsman asked in a sarcastic and slightly irritated voice.

"Just making an observation," I responded, keeping my dry tone as the others walked over toward to me. I looked at the other Shadow Company soldiers climbing out of their foxholes and then back at Soap. "Where's Colonel Lennox?" I asked.

One of the other Shadow Company soldiers looked up at me from where he was helping a few other soldiers dig into what appeared to be a snow bank. "Right here," the soldier said with Lennox's voice, then handed his shovel off to another soldier who had just gotten out of his foxhole, then walked over to us.

Optimus nodded to Lennox and MacTavish. "Colonel Lennox, Captain MacTavish, it is an honor to see you again," he said.

"Likewise, Optimus," Lennox said, then looked at Flareup and the twins, the only Autobots in our group that he hadn't met yet. "I see you've got a few more Autobots than the last time we met."

"Eight Autobots have joined us on Earth since our last meeting, Colonel Lennox," Optimus said. "But I believe introductions should wait until another time, this weather will prove fatal to you and your men if our mission is delayed for too long."

"We'll be fine for the time being, actually," Lennox corrected, then gestured to the pack that he had on his back that was identical to the one Soap had. "These cold weather packs we have will keep us from freezing for another three or four hours. But, getting a move on before MECH knows we're here is a good idea." Without another word to us, he turned around and walked back to where he had been helping dig into the snow bank and put a hand up to the side of his head. "Wheel's up in less than five, Shadow Company. We're going to get these bastards and be home for dinner."

A chorus of 'Yes, sir's sounded out from Shadow Company, who, considering how many there were, seemed to be here in full force.

As Lennox walked over to the snow bank, I noticed that he and the other Shadow Company soldiers weren't digging into a snow bank, they were clearing the snow off of a tank.

The tank was very large, probably half again the size of an M1 Abrams MBT, which meant its two treads were as tall as most of the soldiers standing near the tank, and from what I could tell, its armor was more than twice as thick as the armor used on an Abrams. The armored vehicle was painted with arctic camouflage, just like the Shadow Company soldiers themselves. It looked like its main armament was a miniature version of the helical railguns on top of our base, except the turret of the tank also had two missile pods and an M134 Minigun mounted on top of it. In layman's terms, the tank was more heavily armed and armored than any human tank I had ever seen.

I stopped taking in the details of the S.T.F tank as the soldier I knew was Lennox looked at us after he, and half a dozen other soldiers, finished uncovering the tank. "The General filled us in over the radio, if the Decepticon you're looking for has been captured by MECH, then we have the same goal. So if you don't mind, Optimus, we're going to follow you. You Autobots probably have better tracking equipment than we do." He said as he climbed up onto the tank they just cleared the snow off of and sat down next to the turret.

"Of course you may follow us, Colonel Lennox. But let me be clear, when we determine the location of MECH, we will not assist you in your battle with them, and we will only defend ourselves when it is absolutely necessary. We are here only to ensure MECH does not acquire any Cybertronian technology, not interfere in a purely human matter." Optimus said, making it clear we weren't here to make the job of Shadow Company easier.

Lennox nodded. "Fair enough, Optimus," he said as he reached down and helped Soap climb onto the tank he was sitting on, then brought his hand up to the side of his head again. "Let's move out, Shadow Company." He ordered.

The roar of diesel engines starting up followed Lennox's order, and the tanks, which numbered around a dozen counting the one Lennox and MacTavish were riding on, moved toward us a little before they stopped about twenty feet away, clearly waiting on us.

"Ratchet, do we have the coordinates for where Bulkhead fought with Breakdown?" Optimus asked as we all turned around and began to walk toward the town, with the steady rumble of the S.T.F tanks following close behind. "Starting at the location Breakdown was abducted would offer the best chance of finding the hideout of MECH."

"We do, but we won't need to use them, I am getting an energon signal," Ratchet said, not looking away from his scanner as we walked. "But it is very weak."

"But we shouldn't be getting a signal, unless..." Arcee said from where she walked next to Optimus and Ratchet, then left her sentence hanging for a moment. "Unless Breakdown's energon's been spilled."

"Precisely," Ratchet said. "But what I confuses me, is how did MECH breach Breakdown's armor? Even the weakest of our alloys are impervious to ninety-nine percent of human tools and weaponry. The fact MECH was able to get through Breakdown's armor has me a bit unnerved, especially with the new armor the Decepticons seem to be equipped with now."

"Could you be getting an energon signal because MECH was able to remove something that isn't as strong as armor?" Jetfire asked.

Ratchet seemed to consider the question for a moment before he gave a single nod. "That is possible," he said. "An optic would essentially be the only part to available MECH's tools, as an optic is much more vulnerable than any other part in a Cybertronian that isn't covered by armor. But, the only way we will know for certain what MECH has removed from Breakdown is if we find Breakdown himself."

"Then let's hurry up and do that. The sooner we find Breakdown, the sooner we can leave these... Squishies." Sunstreaker said distastefully, sending a brief glare back at the S.T.F soldiers and the tanks they were riding on.

My left optic twitched and I looked over at Sunstreaker as he walked next to Sideswipe and Springer. "Do you have a problem with humans, Sunstreaker?" I questioned, keeping my voice even despite the fact his remark made me a little angry. I hated racism of all kinds, the fact he was talking about my former race didn't help, either.

Sunstreaker looked back at me. "Yeah," he admitted without a trace of shame, causing more than a few Shadow Company soldiers to grumble indignantly, but he ignored them. "They're disgusting. I mean, their bones are fragile, they have no armor, no claws, no wings, no gills, and they go squish really easily. Aren't they like sixty percent water? And they drown in water, right? How do they not drown if they are more than half water and they drown in water?"

"Because they have lungs and don't breath water?" Sideswipe offered, surprisingly being the logical one of the twins. Usually he was the one being illogical and Sunstreaker was being the logical one.

Sunstreaker looked at his twin as if he had grown a second helm. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

I sighed as Sunstreaker's statement sparked the beginning of a pointless argument between the twins. This wasn't a rarity, the twins argued about pretty much everything, but it was annoying to hear them argue so much... And so loudly. I mean, they were twins, they could easily argue through their twin bond, it was almost as strong as the bond between sparkmates. But no, they had to argue out loud every time they had a disagreement. It was enough to give me a processor ache on occasion.

As the twins continued to argue, one of the Shadow Company soldiers spoke up. "Hey, Shadowstreaker," The soldier said with Epps' voice, he evidently was here as well. "Can I ask you something?"

I glanced over my shoulder-joint at Epps as he rode on the same tank as MacTavish and Lennox. "Of course," I replied.

"Are those two always like that?" Epps asked, pointing a thumb in the direction of the bickering twins without looking away from me.

I shook my helm slowly. "You have no idea," I said, repeating the words Arcee said to me when I asked her the same question Epps just asked me. "They may look fully grown, but they are often more juvenile than the children of your race."

Epps looked back the bickering twins. "I don't doubt that," he said, more to himself than to me, then he looked a little to the right of the twins. "Uh, Shadowstreaker? Why is that Springer guy glaring at you?" He asked, then his ski-mask-covered face looked back at me.

Mentally sighing, I looked away from Epps and glanced at Springer, who was indeed giving me a subtle sidelong glare. I didn't bother to return Springer's glare and looked back at Epps. "Springer and I haven't gotten along since we had a..." I paused for a moment as I tried to come up with an appropriate word to use. "_Disagreement_ roughly one week after you, Colonel Lennox, and Captain MacTavish last visited our base." I said, then said nothing more and looked ahead, hoping Epps would take the hint that I didn't really want to discuss this subject.

Unfortunately, it seemed that my response had captured the interest of Lennox and Epps, since the Shadow Company CO joined in on the questioning. "What kind of disagreement?" He asked, tone curious and knowing, as if he knew I had skirted the truth about what happened between Springer and I, which he probably did.

"It must have been one _serious_ disagreement," Soap piped up in a tone similar to Lennox's. "The glare Springer's sending Shadowstreaker's way could melt Adamantium."

Knowing that the three humans weren't going to drop the subject until I answered, I responded as we entered the outskirts of the town and, considering the gap between the buildings, started to walk down a road. "Very well, if you want to know what Springer and I had a disagreement about, then you will. You of course know that humans and Cybertronians both have romantic relationships?" I asked rhetorically, knowing the three of them had once gotten a brief, and thankfully G-rated, explanation from Ratchet when they asked why a robotic race had males and females. "Well, Springer was _very_ interested in having a relationship with Arcee, and he had it clear in rather crude ways. But Arcee made it equally clear she was not interested. That of course didn't phase Springer, and he continued to make unwanted advances on Arcee. So, after a particularly crude advance, he and I had a disagreement about how he was treating her, and eventually I... _Persuaded_ Springer to stop his crude advances."

"'Persuaded' is not the word I would use to describe what you did, youngling," Jetfire said, appearing at my side seemingly out of thin air, but more than likely just stepped over from where he had been walking next to Bumblebee and Flareup.

I gave Jetfire a displeased look. "And what word you use, Jetfire?" I asked, having a bad feeling that I knew where he was taking this.

A ghost of a smile appeared on the seeker's faceplate. "Well, for one you didn't persuade Springer to stop treating Arcee the way he was, you pummeled him when he continued behaving in that manner. And the result of that pummeling was that instead of attempting to woo Arcee anymore, he spends his time sending hateful glares at you." He said plainly.

I didn't have to be looking at Epps, MacTavish, and Lennox to know they looked at Jetfire with new-found interest, but I turned my helm anyway and saw that the three humans were indeed doing just that.

"Shadowstreaker beat up Springer for hitting on Arcee?" Lennox asked Jetfire, who then nodded.

Now, it was hard to tell because of the ski-masks and goggles, but the three Shadow Company soldiers seemed to smile, and then looked at each other.

"Does that little story remind you of anything?" Epps asked Lennox in a slightly amused tone, as if he just figured something out.

"You mean when one Soap MacTavish hit on my wife a few years ago and I knocked him out?" Lennox asked in turn, as if surprised Epps was making such a comparison, but I knew that his surprise was fake. "Why yes, it does remind me of that time." He looked at MacTavish. "Do these two stories sound similar, Soap?"

Soap nodded. "They do," he said, tone carrying a little embarrassment, likely from remembering what Lennox mentioned, as well as the same amusement the other two soldiers had in their voices. "But, I don't know how that could be. I mean, you knocked me out for hitting on your wife, though in my own defense I didn't know she was your wife, and Shadowstreaker apparently pummeled Springer for being an ass to Arcee. So, why would Shadowstreaker have _possibly_ done such a thing?"

Immediately after MacTavish finished speaking, all three Shadow Company soldiers looked at me, somehow managing to grin through all the cold weather gear on their faces.

'You suck at keeping your feelings a secret,' my own CPU seemed to scold, since I knew exactly what the three humans were implying. I mean really, I hadn't even spoken to Epps, Soap, and Lennox very much, and they managed to put two and two together and realized I had feelings for Arcee. If I continued at this rate, everyone would know I had feelings for Arcee, including Arcee herself. And that would be a disaster.

"Master Sargent Epps, Colonel Lennox, Captain MacTavish," I stated calmly. "Do not spread rumors of what you may or may not know, all sentient beings keep personal secrets. Sometimes those secrets are kept out of shame, greed, sadness, or necessity. But at times... Secrets are kept out of fear of losing those close to us," I said, then looked away from the three humans and left the topic at that.

Thankfully, Jetfire and the three humans took the hint that I was done discussing the subject and they fell silent.

Shortly after my conversation with Epps, Soap, and Lennox came to an end, we reached the center of the abandoned town.

The town center was surrounded entirely by wooden buildings of varying sizes, with some of them being no larger than a double-wide home, and others being taller than Optimus. There were six points of entry into the town center, four coming from gaps between the buildings in each corner, and the other two being the road we were standing in and an identical one on the opposite side of the town center. For some inexplicable reason, there was almost no snow in the town center, with maybe four inches of white powder on the ground at the most. But I couldn't tell if that meant the snow outside the town was wind-blown, or someone just shoveled out the snow in the town center. And in the direct middle of the town center, there was a clock tower that was about twice as tall as Optimus. Why there was a clock tower in the middle of the town, I did not know, but there it was.

Just before we fully stepped into the town center, Ratchet came to a halt and got a confused look on his faceplate as he gazed at his scanner. The white and red medic looked at the base of the clock tower in the town center, then back down at his scanner. "Hmm..." He hummed thoughtfully, giving another look at the base of the clock tower before looking back down at his scanner again, the puzzled look never leaving his faceplate.

"What is it, Ratchet?" Optimus asked as he had us all come to a stop next to the white and red medic.

"According to my scanner, the energon signal is coming from that clock tower," Ratchet answered. "But this doesn't make any sense, neither MECH nor Breakdown are anywhere in sight."

"It does make sense if Silas knew other Cybertronians, either Autobots or Decepticons, would come looking for Breakdown," I said, looking around the town center for any sign of MECH activity, but finding none.

"And the town center is a perfect ambush point," Arcee added. "There's no cover out there, whoever's lying the ambush has a clear line of sight on you at all times. And anyone near the clock tower has to watch several different areas for hostiles at the same time, you wouldn't know which direction they were coming from until they fired."

A human grunt from behind us acknowledged Arcee's words and Lennox stepped up next to us. "I was thinking the exact same thing," he said. "Arkeville might be a psycho, but he isn't stupid. He knew it was only a matter of time before someone came looking for this Breakdown guy. There's no doubt in my mind that he set an ambush up ahead."

"Nevertheless," Optimus said. "We are receiving an energon signal from the clock tower. And since the energon signal is our only lead to finding the location of MECH, we need to spring the ambush Clancy Arkeville has set for any who come looking for Breakdown."

"The words 'We need to spring the ambush', have likely never been uttered in the history of warfare," Lennox said with a shake of his head, then looked up at Optimus. "But if we are going to spring this ambush, then how do you want to play it?" He asked.

Optimus didn't hesitate to respond. "Have your men fall back and circle the outside of the town center. And have your tanks go with them, the combination of tanks and infantry will prevent any MECH soldiers from being able to retreat," he said.

Lennox nodded and brought his hand to the side of his head. "Shadow Company, fall back and encircle the town center from the outside, let's make sure MECH doesn't get the drop on us." He ordered, then looked up at Optimus again as tanks, and the humans riding on them, started to move back up the road we just came from. "What are you and your Autobots going to do, Optimus?" He asked.

Optimus' optics flashed with humor. "We are going to walk out into the town center," he said, then turned and started walking toward the clock tower without another word to Lennox.

Lennox watched Optimus walk away for a moment before he looked back at us. "Does he always do that?"

I moved to follow Optimus and looked down at Lennox as I was about to walk past him. "Yes, he does tend to do that, especially when we're on missions," I said with a smile as my fellow Autobots started to follow after Optimus as well.

Lennox didn't reply, he just shook his head, sighed and moved to join his soldiers.

After Lennox went off to join the rest of Shadow Company, I looked ahead again and saw that Optimus had already reached the clock tower and was crouched at the base of it, clearly looking at something that had caught his attention.

'Probably found what was causing the energon signal,' I thought as I continued walking toward the Prime. It only took me another moment to reach Optimus, and when I did, I walked a little off to his right and looked over his shoulder-joint. I winced at the sight that greeted me. Optimus had indeed found the cause of the energon signal. It was the mangled remains of one of Breakdown's yellow optics.

I looked over at the others as they reached Optimus and I and looked down at Breakdown's optic. They didn't react to the grisly sight, having seen far worse during the war and even during the time since I had become a Cybertronian, but Flareup looked like she wanted to purge her tank. But, despite her clear disgust, she didn't look away.

Ratchet crouched alongside Optimus. "Move, I might be able to salvage some of the last images Breakdown saw. It might give us a clue to finding MECH." He said, making a shooing gesture with his servo as he pulled some kind of medical tool that had a video screen on it out of a sub-space pocket.

"You can do that?" Arcee asked, looking a little unnerved to find out it was possible to access a Cybertronian's video files from a detached optic.

"I can, as long as the optic's receptors weren't too badly damaged when it was removed by MECH, that is." Ratchet answered, then looked at Optimus again. "And if you get out of the way."

After Ratchet told him to move a second time, Optimus stood to his full height and took a step back and Ratchet quickly took the Prime's place.

"Now, let's see if there's anything you can tell us." Ratchet said, appearing to speak to the optic when he was in fact talking to himself, as he picked up Breakdown's optic and inserted it into a special slot in the top of the medical tool and pressed a button below the screen.

After Ratchet inserted the optic into the slot and pressed the button beneath the screen, the image of an averaged-sized man wearing what appeared to be a modified set of the flak jackets Shadow Company used and a dark ski-mask and goggles appeared on the screen.

The man who clearly was a member of MECH stood still for a brief moment before he looked to his left and turned on a large drill that was next to him. After turning the drill on, the man proceeded to slowly guide the drill toward the camera, or in this case Breakdown's optic, until the drill filled the entire screen and the video was replaced by static.

"Well, that must've hurt," Sideswipe said.

No one else got a chance to speak, because immediately after Sideswipe spoke, the screen of Ratchet's tool flickered and the static was replaced by the slightly fuzzy image of a man, who was much larger than the first who came on screen, standing on a catwalk while other humans drilled into different areas of Breakdown's unmoving form. He had short silver hair and dark brown, almost black eyes, eyes that let you know something was seriously wrong with the man just by looking into them.

Silas was on the screen, and the feed was live.

MECH's leader looked fully at Optimus once the link was established. _"Well, well, Optimus Prime. A pleasure to... Set _eyes_ on you again. I assume you are here to stop me from learning how your kind work, hmm? I'm afraid that isn't going to happen."_ He said in a voice that was filled with confidence, as if he was certain that whatever happened, he was going to win, and we were going to lose. If Silas hadn't already been a twisted, murdering, psychopathic, military deserter, I would have hated the tone he was using. But since he was all four of those things, I let it slide since that was probably as nice as he got.

Optimus narrowed his optics at MECH's leader as Ratchet said something about how Silas had converted the optic into a two-way feed. "And you are Clancy Arkeville, the leader of the human terrorist organization called 'MECH.'" He said coolly, looking the down at the screen with a hard look in his optics.

It was hard to tell because of the quality of the image, but I could have sworn Silas' left eye twitched slightly at the mention of his name. _"I prefer 'Silas' now, Optimus Prime,"_ he said, annoyance briefly replacing the confidence in his voice before he went back to his previous tone. _"It has a certain... Ring to it, unlike my original title."_ He looked like he was going to continue, but he seemed to just notice Ratchet. _"Oh, now where are my manners? In all the excitement of speaking with the great Optimus Prime, I failed to see his chief medical officer. How nice to see you, Ratchet."_

I narrowed my optics at Silas as Ratchet did the same thing and didn't say anything to the psychopathic human. What Silas just said raised a red flag in my helm. I knew that Arcee, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Optimus went on the one and only mission where we encountered MECH, but Ratchet was at base. How did Silas know his name? And more importantly, how did Silas know Ratchet's role as our chief medical officer?

The answer came to me, the S.T.F had a mole somewhere in their ranks. How high-ranking that mole was, I didn't know, but I knew that if Optimus hadn't already reached the same conclusion as me, I would have to tell him later, we had more pressing issues at the moment.

After Ratchet continued staying silent, Silas hummed in thought. _"Hmm, you are the quiet type, aren't you?"_ He asked, tone implying he wasn't expecting an answer, then seemed to notice that there were other Autobots standing here besides Optimus and Ratchet. _"Oh, I am having such an off day. How silly of me to fail to notice so many Autobots crowding around you,"_ he looked between Jetfire, Springer, and the twins. _"Many of them are new and unfamiliar to me,"_ he admitted, failing to notice Flareup since she was standing out of frame. MECH's leader looked between Bumblebee and I. _"But the rest are old and recognizable."_ He gave Springer and I another look. _"Cybertronians that can change into two different vehicles? You two will certainly be interesting to study."_

_"And a certain human definitely likes the sound of his voice a little too much,"_ Arcee said, an annoyed tone masking an emotion I couldn't identify, which left me a little confused before I shrugged it off and focused on Silas.

The psychopathic human looked at Arcee like a sadistic child would look at a frog in biology class. _"Another familiar face, and an interesting one at that. You are a race of mechanical titans, and yet you have women... You will be by far the most fascinating study,"_ he said, looking like he wanted to leap out of the screen and dissect Arcee alive.

My left optic twitched and I clenched one of my servos into a fist. "You can't study any of us if you're dead... _Clancy,_" I said, voice calm, yet carrying a dangerous edge to it.

This time, I was sure Silas' eye twitched, but he quickly composed himself and looked back at me._ "And you can't kill me if you aren't alive,"_ he countered, and moved his hand over a button on a computer next to him. _"Goodbye, Autobots."_ With that, he pressed the button and the link went dead.

The moment Silas cut the video link, a rapid beeping started chiming from the clock tower.

Quickly looking up to where the beeping was coming from, I saw that the side of the clock tower facing us was lined with bricks of C4 that had been disguised as part of the wall, but now were flashing a red number three before changing into a number two a micro-klick later.

"Well... Slag..." I said, then brought my servos up in front of my faceplate and closed my optics, knowing that we didn't have time to turn and run away from the bomb, and that all we could do is stand there and prepare ourselves for the worst.

The timer on the bomb hit zero.

I didn't hear the explosion, likely because my audio receptors shut themselves off to prevent any damage from happening to them, but I definitely felt it. The explosion was mostly a huge shock wave, but it still felt like both Optimus and Ironhide had just kicked me in the chestplates with all their strength, and then punched me in the faceplate multiple times for good measure.

I didn't even know I was flying through the air until I felt myself crash through the roof of a human building, with something or someone else landing on me almost at the same time I crashed through the roof. But, it luckily didn't feel like I had been damaged enough to warrant a visit to the med-bay later.

My hearing gradually returned to me, but all I could hear once my hearing fully returned was the crackling of fire and pained groans from my fellow Autobots, including a more high pitched and feminine grumble from the bot who landed on me.

'Please don't be Arcee,' I thought as I opened my optics and slowly raised my helm to see who landed on my chestplates, hoping that I didn't have the misfortune of having the femme I secretly loved land on top of me and cause any awkwardness between us.

No such luck.

Arcee was lying faceplate-down on my chestplates, which were covered in explosive residue, but her helm was turned to the side, which left her faceplate exposed to the cold weather. Her optics were closed, so she was probably still recovering from the explosion, and she appeared to be covered in explosive residue. But, in my optics, the black powder did nothing to tarnish her beauty.

I was torn on what do in my current situation. My spark wanted me to leave Arcee there and let her recover on her own, after all, she wasn't causing me any pain by lying on my chestplates. And it felt... Right, having her so close to me. But the logical side of me knew that no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't just leave Arcee where she was, it wouldn't be right. So, my logic won out against my feelings.

I cleared my throat. "Um, Arcee? Would you mind getting up? I can't exactly move at the moment," I said with a tone of forced calm, not wanting Arcee to know how awkward I felt at the moment, or how much my spark wanted to have her stay where she was.

The blue and pink femme's optics fluttered and she slowly opened her optics and blinked rapidly once they were open. Judging by the blank look in her optics, Arcee was still dazed from the explosion and didn't know where she was. But after a moment, she shook her helm and the look normally in her optics returned. But that look was quickly replaced by one of panic as she likely realized where she was. Arcee looked at me with widened optics, then down at my chestplates.

"Oh!" She said in alarm and what might have been embarrassment, then rolled off of me and onto what remained of the floor of the building she and I fell into.

I sat up and stretched my neck cables, the closest thing a Cybertronian could do to cracking their neck like a human. "Remind me to kick Silas' ass, it's going to be a pain to clean off this explosive residue." I said as I brushed off a little of the black powder, attempting to avoid an awkward silence by quickly talking about something other than how we had just been in a compromising position.

"I'll only remind you if you let me shoot him first," Arcee replied in what was supposed to be a joking tone, but ended up coming out more quiet than she had likely intended, making her tone sound closer to one of embarrassment rather than one that was joking.

Arcee and I sat there in silence, unable to move, or address the elephant in the room.

After the silence continued for several micro-klicks, I cleared my throat again and gestured to the hole in the roof. "You know... The, um, explosion... And, ah, air currents... And... The, um, shock wave... Didn't really, ah... Let you have any, ah... Control over your where you landed..." I said, stumbling over my words before I trailed off when I realized that I was doing a terrible job of acting nonchalant about Arcee landing on me.

My words seemed to bring Arcee out of her thoughts. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, yeah," she agreed, tone suggesting she was almost as uncomfortable with this situation as I was, but likely for different reasons. She cleared her own throat. "We should, um... Get back to the others."

"Agreed," I said quickly, then gestured to the massive hole in the wall that I had created upon my entry into the building Arcee and I were sitting in. "After you."

Arcee nodded, stood up, and then walked out of the building without a word, but she did glance back and give me a look I couldn't read, but it might have been partly contemplative. However, she looked away from me and walked off to the right before I could be certain.

Giving a quiet sigh of relief as the awkward situation came to an end, I stood up and stepped out of the building as well.

After stepping out of the building, I looked a little to the left and saw that there was a crater where the clock tower once stood, and that the debris of what little remained of the clock tower itself was burning.

Looking away from the crater where the clock tower used to be, I saw that the explosion had damaged every building in the town center in some way.

Most of the larger buildings only had cosmetic damage, such as broken windows or missing shingles on their roofs.

But the smaller buildings had much more severe damage, ranging from having small sections of their walls destroyed by the shock wave, to the entire building being reduced to rubble. Silas definitely wanted to make sure that explosion destroyed us, but unfortunately for him, Cybertronians weren't that easy to offline.

I continued looking around at the town center before I turned around and saw that Arcee and Optimus were talking with a trio of Shadow Company soldiers, who more than likely were Epps, MacTavish, and Lennox, while the rest of my fellow Autobots stood a short distance away.

Seeing that I was the only one not in hearing distance, I started to walk over to Optimus and Arcee, but I didn't get very far before Bulkhead opened a universal communications channel.

_"Bulkhead to... Well, anyone,"_ the Wrecker said through the channel. _"Rendezvous at my coordinates, I'm in need of backup."_ With that, he closed the channel, but not before sending a data packet through the channel that likely contained his coordinates.

Confused as to why Bulkhead was even out in the field instead of back at base, I opened the data packet and raised one of my optic ridges at the series of numbers that made up the packet. According to the data, Bulkhead was five miles east of our current position, just outside the mine shaft this town had been built to support.

"Why isn't Bulkhead back at base?" Ratchet asked, voicing the question I was about to ask myself. "Moonracer was still repairing him when we left, he should be resting in the med-bay, not out on a mission by himself." The white and red medic growled, an annoyed look on his faceplate and a displeased tone in his voice, which meant Bulkhead was probably going to get hit in the helm with a wrench or two when Ratchet got to him.

_"And how'd he even get out here?"_ Bumblebee added. "_I mean, he couldn't have just activated the ground bridge and walked out, Jazz was operating the-"_ He cut himself off and a look of understanding entered his optics. _"Ohhh... Now it makes sense."_

"Um... Can you fill in the confused humans?" Epps asked as he looked between all of us, with the other two humans doing the same thing.

Optimus ignored Epps' question and looked Jetfire. "Jetfire, take Shadowstreaker and Springer and assist Bulkhead," he ordered. "The rest of us will join you as soon as possible."

"Acknowledged, Prime," Jetfire replied, then transformed into his alt mode, a heavily modified F-18 Super Hornet with the ability to hover, and hovered upward so he wouldn't blast out the ear drums of the humans whenever he activated his jets.

Without being told to, I transformed into my F-22 mode and hovered up next to Jetfire, while Springer changed into the AH-64 Apache that was his flight mode and hovered up as well.

Once Springer joined Jetfire and I, the three of us activated our engines and flew toward Bulkhead's coordinates, with Jetfire and I quickly leaving Springer far behind since the green Triple-Changer couldn't transform into a jet, and was severely limited in speed as a result.

Due to the speed we were flying, it took less than a klick for Jetfire and I to reach Bulkhead's coordinates. And it appeared as though we arrived just in time, because I saw the Wrecker and the one-opticed Breakdown standing next to each other, who were surprisingly not fighting one another, while five Decepticon seekers stood in front of them.

One of the seekers was slightly taller than the others, probably marginally taller than Bulkhead and a little shorter than Springer. He was mostly grey in color, but his shoulder-joints were black.

I recognized him almost immediately. It was Starscream.

Shaking myself from my observations, I slowed down so I didn't slide when I hit the ground, transformed, and landed a short distance behind the seekers and deployed my Scatter-Blaster and Plasma Chaingun, with Jetfire transforming as well and landing beside me.

After Jetfire and I landed, the Decepticons whipped around and deployed their own weapons, all of which were servo-blasters except for Starscream's weapon, a missile attached to the side of his servo.

Jetfire and I quickly found ourselves in a good, old-fashioned Mexican Standoff, with neither us nor the Decepticons willing to fire the first shot.

As Jetfire and I continued pointing our weapons at the Decepticons, I used my peripheral vision to search for anything we could use for cover if we ended up in a firefight. But unfortunately there was nothing, just the remains of modified cars and trucks that appeared to be crushed with blunt weapons or shot with missiles, with the bodies of humans clothed like the first MECH soldier I saw in the footage from Breakdown's optic. There was also some burning wreckage of what seemed to be at least four helicopters, but they were too mangled for me to know for certain. What I did know for certain, was that Bulkhead and Breakdown had just finished fighting MECH, and had inflicted heavy causalities on the human terrorist group. But, judging by how there were tire tracks leading further east, an unknown number of MECH troops had escaped.

"If you deactivate your weapons now, and I will offline you quick and painlessly," Starscream said, breaking me out of my thoughts. "If you don't... Well, then things will get _messy_."

I saw Jetfire shift his optics between Starscream and the other seekers out of my peripheral vision, he smiled slightly, as if he figured something out, then looked directly at Starscream. "Messy for us? Or for you?" He asked.

I sent Jetfire a confused, sideways glance, while keeping most of my attention on the Decepticons. Even with Bulkhead, who hadn't moved since we landed, we were outnumbered two to one by the Cons. Of course, we had better weapons, since all they had were servo-blasters and one missile, but if all the Cons were equipped with that new armor we encountered recently, then our weapons weren't going to do much before the Decepticons offlined us. So, what was Jetfire getting at?

Starscream smiled. "I don't think you are in a position to trash talk, Jetfire," he said, a tone of familiarity in his voice, likely from when they both were stationed on Trypticon Station, that is, if the events of War for Cybertron actually happened, still hadn't found that out. "Now, deactivate your weapons before I lose my patience."

"How about you leave, and I won't offline one of your lackeys," he said, then shifted his weapon from where he was aiming at Starscream, to one of the other seekers, causing the seeker to fidget slightly and glance over at Starscream before looking at Jetfire again. "After all, it would only take the offlining of one of you to alert Megatron that you came to rescue Breakdown against his wishes... And what a _tragedy_ that would be."

A light clicked on in my helm, and I looked at the seekers. There were only four besides Starscream. And if Megatron had ordered for a rescue mission, he would have sent more than Starscream and four seekers. After all, Breakdown was probably one of the more senior of Megatron's soldiers, and there were at least two-thousand Decepticons on Earth, Megatron could afford to spare a dozen or two to rescue Breakdown.

Starscream's smile vanished and he looked at Jetfire in disbelief. "How do you know about that?" He asked, voice noticeably higher than it was a moment ago, which I found a little humorous.

Jetfire shrugged. "Doesn't matter, does it?" He asked in turn, giving the SIC of the Decepticons a level stare.

Starscream met Jetfire's look for a brief moment before he growled quietly. "Decepticons, retreat." He said with a scowl directed at Jetfire, then he transformed into his jet form and flew away.

Suddenly finding themselves alone, the four seekers glanced at each other and then quickly followed Starscream's lead by transforming into their own jet forms and flying in the direction the Decepticon SIC had gone.

After Starscream and the other seekers flew away, Breakdown, who, like Bulkhead, hadn't moved since Jetfire and I landed, gave the Wrecker what I could have sworn was a grateful look. But was it gone in an instant, and he transformed into an International MaxxPro, a smaller, lesser armored, four-wheeled version of my MRAP alt mode, and drove away in the general direction Starscream and the seekers had flown in.

"Miko's going to be disappointed I didn't get that rematch," I heard Bulkhead say as Breakdown drove away, likely meant for his own audio receptors instead of anyone else's.

I returned my servos to normal and looked over at Bulkhead. "So, that's why you're out here, Miko roped you into fighting Breakdown again since you lost your last fight." I said, glancing over my shoulder-joint as Springer finally arrived and landed a short distance away before I looked back at Bulkhead. "You know, Ratchet's going to be far from pleased you aren't in the med-bay."

Bulkhead winced. "Don't remind me," he said as Springer walked over and Jetfire returned his own servo to normal. "Moonracer already yelled at me and threatened to weld me to the medical berth when I left, whatever Ratchet does is going to be a _lot_ worse."

Springer looked around at the various destroyed vehicles surrounding us. "Well, at least you got a bit of fun in before Ratchet traps you in the med-bay," he said pleasantly, a tone he used only with his fellow Wreckers.

Bulkhead shook his helm and gave Springer a look, but he said nothing, none of us did, in fact, until the others rolled up in alt mode a couple klicks after Springer landed.

Ratchet was the first of the group to reach us, and he transformed in front of Bulkhead and stared at him for a long moment, then without warning, pulled a wrench from his sub-space and hit Bulkhead over the helm with it. "Dumbaft!" He half yelled. "You weren't even fully repaired yet, and you went out on a mission by _yourself!_" He brought a digit within a foot of Bulkhead's faceplate. "Do you have any idea how much more you might have damaged your systems? I-" Ratchet suddenly stopped in the middle of his rant and his optics dimmed slightly, a sign he was being comm-linked. His optics didn't remain dim long, however, and they returned to their normal brightness after just a few micro-klicks, but he didn't say anything to us, just stood where he was with a look of shock on his faceplate.

After he continued to stand there for several micro-klicks without saying anything, I waved a servo in front of his faceplate. "You there, Ratchet?" I asked, causing the white and red medic to shake his helm and blink as if brought out of a trance. "Someone clearly gave you a big piece of news, would you mind filling the rest of us in?"

Ratchet ignored me and opened a communications channel to base. _"Jazz, I need a ground bridge right now!"_ He practically shouted through the channel, an excited look shining in his optics.

_"Of course, Doc Bot."_ Came Jazz's reply through the channel, just before a ground bridge appeared about fifty meters away. _"And by da way, ya don' need ta yell next time ya need a bridge. Just lettin' ya know."_ The saboteur added, then closed the channel with that.

After Jazz closed the channel, Ratchet transformed into his alt mode and drove through the ground bridge, moving faster than was probably safe to travel in the base.

I blinked at where I had last seen Ratchet and looked at Optimus. "Have you seen Ratchet move that fast outside the battlefield... _Ever?_" I asked.

"No, Shadowstreaker, I have not," Optimus replied as the sounds of Shadow Company's tanks approaching became audible. He looked at all of us. "Autobots, return to base. I will join you after I have spoken with Colonel Lennox on a troubling matter." He said in a tone that led me to believe he had reached the same conclusion I had about MECH having a mole in the S.T.F, then walked toward one of the Shadow Company tanks just as it came into view.

Without a word, we all acknowledged Optimus' order by walking into the ground bridge and returning to base.

* * *

><p><strong>December 25, 2012 2:44 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

The first sight that greeted us after we stepped through the ground bridge was the slightly surprised look on General Shepherd's face he looked in the direction of the hallway leading to the med-bay, and the confused, yet somehow amused, look on Jazz's faceplate as he looked in the same direction as S.T.F's leader.

After the nine of us stepped into the ops center, Jazz looked at me. "What got da Doc Bot so energetic?" He asked. "Ah've never seen da Doc Bot move dat fast before."

I gave the saboteur a helpless shrug. "I have no idea. One moment he was scolding Bulkhead for leaving the med-bay, which shouldn't have even been possible." I said, giving Jazz a pointed look, which he returned with a smile. "And the next, he gets comm-linked and he's shouting at you to get him a ground bridge."

Jazz looked down the hallway again. "Then we should probably get movin' and ask da Doc Bot what's goin' on," he said, then looked over at Springer. "Springer, you got ground bridge duty in case da Boss Bot needs a bridge."

Springer narrowed his optics at Jazz. "Why do _I_ have to do it?" He asked.

Jazz smiled at Springer. "'Cause Ah outrank you and Ah ordered ya to," he responded, then turned and walked into the hallway without another word.

After Jazz walked into the hallway, Springer grumbled and went over to the workstation as the rest of us started to follow Jazz.

"Shadowstreaker," General Shepherd called, causing me to come to a halt and look over at S.T.F's leader. "Colonel Lennox hasn't reported in over the radio, yet. What happened out there?" He asked, looking more than a little anxious, likely wanting to know if Shadow Company had captured or killed MECH.

"Bulkhead was able to rescue Breakdown from MECH's captivity, but it seems that MECH has escaped, albeit with heavy causalities." I answered bluntly, knowing a military man such as Shepherd would have hated a sugar-coated response.

Shepherd sighed. "Damn it," he cursed. "Do you have an estimate on the number of MECH's causalities?"

I shook my helm. "Not an exact number, no, but they likely lost a few dozen of their members." I replied. "Although, Colonel Lennox and Shadow Company should be able to give you a more accurate number."

The S.T.F's leader seemed to like that estimate a little bit, but he still remained mostly impassive. "Were any of their helicopters present?"

"I believe I saw the wreckage of four helicopters," I said. "But again, Shadow Company will be able to tell you more than I can."

General Shepherd frowned slightly. "If your estimate is accurate, then MECH still has three of S.T.F's helicopters in their possession, and we made those to be invisible to all types of imagery." He sighed again and pulled a radio from one of the pouches near his .44 Magmum and walked away from the catwalk railing. "Thank you for the information, Shadowstreaker, I will touch base with Colonel Lennox and find out what else he can tell me."

Seeing that my short conversation with Shepherd was over, I turned around and saw that Arcee had been waiting for me next to the hallway.

"What was that about?" She asked as I walked over to her and we both started down the hallway.

"General Shepherd wanted to know what happened on the mission," I replied. "So, I told him that Bulkhead was able to rescue Breakdown, but at least part of MECH escaped."

"Bulkhead rescued Breakdown?" Arcee asked with a surprised look on her faceplate. "I would have never thought Bulk' would do that."

"I wouldn't have, either, unless I saw Breakdown and Bulkhead standing next to each other with my own optics," I agreed.

Arcee and I didn't say anything after that, and we continued down the hallway in silence. At least, until we encountered Jazz, who was, for no apparent reason, leaning against the wall a short distance away from the med-bay.

"Waiting for us, Jazz?" Arcee asked as she and I approached the saboteur.

Jazz ignored Arcee's question. He pushed himself off the wall and stood in front of us before he held a servo up to stop us. And once we had done that, he pulled what looked like a remote of some kind, pressed a button on the remote, looked at Arcee and I, smiled slightly as if he won a game of checkers, and then turned and walked into the med-bay without a word.

Scrunching my optic ridges in confusion, I blinked at where I had last seen Jazz before the words of a conversation he and I had couple cycles ago popped into my helm.

_"You are trying to get Arcee and I under the Mistletoe," I had stated matter-of-factly, knowing that was his exact intention from what Elita had said that cycle._

_"Ah'm just tryin' ta get ya movin' in da right direction," Jazz had replied, not even trying to deny statement as he pushed himself off the wall and walked toward me. "Since ya obviously aren' plannin' on makin' da move yourself."_

_"That is because there's nowhere to move, Jazz." I had said as I turned around and started to walk in the direction of the ops center._

_A look of understanding crossed had Jazz's faceplate. "Ah see, you're in da 'There's no way she's inta me, and Ah don' wanna weird her out, so Ah'm not gonna make a move' phase, aren' ya?" He had asked with a knowing grin._

_My left optic had twitched at how Jazz seemed to be able to get very accurate information from the simplest of statements. "Yes, yes I am. And I intend on staying in that phase."_

Bringing myself out of the memory of my conversation with Jazz a couple solar-cycles ago, I glanced up at the ceiling... And instantly froze... Because directly above us, still swaying after they had likely been deployed by Jazz... Were thirteen Mistletoes.

That was when another part of my conversation with Jazz popped into my helm.

_"No matter how many Mistletoes you put up, I'm not going to get stuck under one. I'll just going to pull them down." I had said to Jazz's retreating form._

_"Ah'll remember dat," Jazz had replied._

'Jazz, you son of a _glitch_,' I thought, staring blankly at the Mistletoes as I brought myself back to the present again. The saboteur had said he'd remember that I was just going to pull down every Mistletoe he put up. I should have taken that as a warning.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Arcee give the Mistletoes a confused look before turning her gaze to me. "What are those?" She asked in a tone that mirrored the look on her faceplate.

My cooling fans activated loudly enough to cause Arcee to give me a perplexed look. "Those are, ah... Those are Mistletoes," I responded, unable to keep my voice from sounding a little awkward and embarrassed.

Arcee continued to give me a perplexed look. "And that is...?" She prompted.

My cooling fans kicked into a higher gear. "Look it up," I said, unable to bring myself to explain what a Mistletoe was to Arcee of all bots.

Arcee kept giving me a confused look for a micro-klick before she finally looked away from me and her optics dimmed as she searched the internet. After a moment, her faceplate went blank and her optics returned to their normal brightness. "Oh..." She said in a tone as blank as the look on her faceplate, though I did hear her cooling fans activate quite loudly, and she covered her optics with a servo in what was clearly embarrassment.

My spark fluttered hopefully at that, but I quickly curbed the feeling. Just because Arcee was embarrassed, didn't mean that she was interested in me. Getting trapped under a Mistletoe was embarrassing, even if you weren't interested in the bot that was caught under the Mistletoe with you. So, my being under the Mistletoe more than likely had nothing to do with why Arcee was embarrassed.

"'Oh', indeed," I said.

A deafening, awkward silence descended on Arcee and I. I had thought the silence that followed Arcee landing on me was bad, but that was nothing compared to this. We couldn't even look at each other, I knew how Optimus felt when he and Elita got trapped under a Mistletoe a couple solar-cycles ago. The only time I had felt this awkward was when I accidentally saw Arcee in the washrack before we were able to create two separate washracks for mechs and femmes, and that was because I had... Well, seen her naked... At least, I had seen that... Part... Below her backplates.

'Wow, even your_ thoughts_ are awkward,' my own CPU seemed to deadpan.

'Shut up, CPU,' I thought, mentally Gibbs slapping my CPU for giving me such strange thoughts. Maybe the reason I kept getting such unusual thoughts was from a glitch in my CPU. Probably should have Ratchet take a look to be sure... If I can get out of my current situation with my friendship with Arcee intact, that is.

After the silence continued for nearly a klick, I broke it. "You know, I think I am going to weld Jazz to the ceiling of the Safe." I said with a thoughtful expression on my faceplate, hoping the joke would make things between Arcee and I a little less awkward.

"You can't do that if I do it first," Arcee said, cooling fans still humming loudly, just like my own were.

"Then you can weld him to the Safe's ceiling first, and after the welds fail, I will weld him back up there again. Deal?" I asked.

"Deal," Arcee agreed with a smirk, though she still didn't meet my optics.

We fell silent again with that. And just as it seemed like we were going to stand here in silence for another klick, Jack and Miko walked out of the med-bay and gave us exasperated looks.

"What are you guys still standing out here, for?" Jack asked as he and Miko walked over to Arcee and I.

"Yeah, you're going to miss Moonracer dropping some bombs about the Delphic!" Miko said, gesturing to us to follow her to the med-bay, but then she looked up and saw what was above our helms, and she slapped a hand over her mouth and seemed to be struggling not to laugh.

Jack noticed Miko's sudden change in behavior and gave her an odd look. "What's so funny?" He asked.

Miko just snickered and pointed at the Mistletoes above Arcee and I.

The dark-haired teen looked at where Miko was pointing and snickered as well. "Now, that's just too good," he said with an amused smile and laugh, which in turn caused Miko to lose what self-control she had and laugh hysterically.

"Mhm," I hummed indifferently as Jack and Miko continued laughing, knowing that the two human teens would react like this when they saw the Mistletoes. "Keep laughing, maybe you'll pass out from lack of air and we'll sneak by you."

Miko sobered herself enough to pull out her cell phone. "Dude, this is so going in the scrap-book!" She said, directing her words at Jack as she and the taller teen stepped a little closer to us so Miko could get a better picture.

I put on my best poker face as Miko and Jack stepped closer, not because the young Japanese girl was going to take an embarrassing picture of Arcee and I, but because she and Jack were now within reach. And that meant we could grab them and place Jack and Miko in our place under the Mistletoes so Arcee and I could leave. Admittedly, I wasn't an expert on the rules of Mistletoe, but I believe there was a rule about not having more than two people under the Mistletoe at the same time.

Glancing at Arcee, I saw a look in her optics that told me she was thinking the same thing I was.

"Come on, pucker up!" Miko said, smiling as she looked at Arcee and I through the screen of her phone. "I want this shot to be perfect!"

Sharing another look with Arcee, I nodded, and at the same time, Arcee and I reached out and picked up Jack and Miko in one of our servos, with me grabbing Jack, and Arcee picking up Miko. With the two teens securely in our servos, we set them down at the base of our pedes and stepped out from the Mistletoes.

"Dude, not cool!" Miko protested with a dumbfounded look on her face, as if she couldn't believe what just happened.

"I hate you both a lot right now..." Jack added in a more restrained tone than the one Miko was using, probably because, judging by the faint pink I saw his cheeks turning, he was embarrassed to be under the Mistletoes with a girl that I suspected he liked.

Arcee and I ignored Jack and Miko's complaints and started walking the short distance to the med-bay.

_"What we just did was a little evil, wasn't it?"_ Arcee asked, opening a comm-link with me as we left Jack and Miko beneath the Mistletoes.

_"Yup,"_ I replied simply.

_"Should we be feeling bad?"_ The blue and pink femme inquired in an amused tone, apparently already over the awkward situation we had just been in a few moments ago.

_"Nope,"_ I replied just as easily as the first time, and closed the link with that as we entered the med-bay.

The Delphic was, as was the norm for the past two solar-cycles, floating in the center of the med-bay when Arcee and I entered, with Ratchet and Moonracer conversing in excited tones at the med-bay computer, while the rest of our fellow Autobots, minus Optimus and those on patrol, were scattered around the room.

Jazz looked at Arcee and I as we walked into the room in what might have been surprise, but it was hard to tell because of his visor. "What took you two so long? Moonracer finally figured out what da Delphic is, and you two almost missed da big reveal." The saboteur said as the med-bay door closed behind Arcee and I, as if he was wondering where she and I had been.

I narrowed my optics at the smaller mech. "We were delayed," I answered evenly, not tearing my gaze from the saboteur as I crossed my servos and leaned against the wall next to the med-bay door.

"There was traffic in the hallway," Arcee added, voice carrying a subtle, angry tone as she crossed her own servos and leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the med-bay door from me.

Jazz smiled innocently at the tone in Arcee's voice. "Well, at least of two of you are here, now. Ah think da Doc Bot and Moonracer are goin' ta tell us what da Delphic is." He said smoothly, then turned his attention to Ratchet and Moonracer, ignoring the look Arcee and I were giving him.

After Jazz started to pretty much ignore us, I shared a brief look with Arcee before we both shook our helms and looked over at Ratchet and Moonracer, waiting for them to talk about what the Delphic was, since that was apparently the reason why Ratchet had taken off through the ground bridge.

Arcee and I didn't have to wait long.

"It's a power source..." I heard Ratchet say quietly, both voice and optics filled with awe.

I raised an optic ridge at the unsurprising revelation and glanced at the crystal that was shining like a star. "Um, no offence, Ratchet. But I could have figured that out pretty easily. You did mention the fact that the Delphic is giving dark energy readings and gamma radiation... It isn't that hard to figure out the Delphic is some kind of power source..." I said, a little confused why Ratchet's tone was filled with so much awe when everyone expected that the Delphic was some kind of advanced power source.

Ratchet shook his helm. "You don't understand. The Delphic isn't just _a_ power source, it's_ the_ power source. Almost every known method for creating power is contained within that tiny crystal. There are nuclear fission and nuclear fusion reactions occurring inside the Delphic as we speak. It is turning anti-matter into fuel and electricity right now... We still don't know where that fuel is going, but you get the point. The Delphic has the smallest, and yet somehow the most powerful, neutrino-ion generator I have ever seen. This crystal is somehow harvesting dark energy and converting it into a usable form of energy. And it has a type of reactor I cannot identify, but it is using gamma radiation as a _power source_, and in turn is producing twenty times the power gamma radiation would produce on its own. But what I find most amazing, is that the Delphic is creating its own supply of energon and Dark Energon and using _both_ substances to create energy, in a method more potent and effective than any I have ever seen or read about in the Hall of Records. And all of this is contained within an artificial shell that is... Well, made up of all known solid elements, including Primax, which makes the Delphic's shell is the most resilient material in the known universe."

I blinked at Ratchet's long-winded explanation and looked at the Delphic again, floating harmlessly above the floor, but apparently more powerful than any known source of energy. "Shouldn't a number of the processes you listed be impossible, Ratchet?" I asked, tearing my gaze away from the enigmatic crystal and looking at the white and red medic.

Moonracer answered my question instead. "Should it be impossible to the current science of Cybertronians? Yes. Is it impossible to the creators of the Delphic? No, they apparently didn't get that memo." She said, surprising me slightly at her use of a human idiom, that was the first time I had ever heard her use one.

_"Do we still not know who created it?"_ Bumblebee asked.

Moonracer shrugged helplessly. "No. We still only have theories on who created the Delphic, unfortunately," she answered.

"I'm more interested in the fact you said the Delphic is creating its own energon," Arcee said in a tone that led me to believe she wanted to destroy the Delphic so we could find out how it's creating energon.

Moonracer shook her helm like Ratchet had done a short time ago. "I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no. We can't crack open the Delphic and find out how it creates energon. Not only do we lack the technology to destroy its artifical shell, but if its casing is cracked open, then what is keeping the various processes contained within the Delphic would shut down... I don't think I need to explain what would happen, then." She said, wincing slightly at her own words, likely picturing what would happen if the Delphic became unstable.

Jetfire seemed to notice Moonracer's wince as well. "How bad?" He asked her.

Ratchet answered instead. "The Delphic is producing more power than a dozen of the most energetic of blue super giants, if that power released... Everything within a nine-hundred light-year radius of Earth, would simply cease to exist." He said in a completely serious tone.

"Alright," Arcee said, looking more than a little disturbed by that piece of information. "Can we at least use the Delphic to power the base?" She asked. "We would end up saving a lot of energon if we had an eternal power source."

"If our base required a few-hundred _decillion_ times the amount of power it currently does, maybe," Ratchet answered. "But since it doesn't, the Delphic would end up overloading all our systems within an astro-klick, and probably would blast Earth with gamma radiation. So, no. We can't use it as a power source."

"So, we essentially have a near-indestructible, eternal-energy-producing, paperweight... That potentially could wipe all life in a nine-hundred light-year radius if it becomes unstable." I concluded, giving the Delphic a cautious glance, unable to not be unnerved by learning just how much destructive power it contained.

Ratchet opened his mouth to say something, but he quickly closed it and seemed to be considering what I said. And after a moment, he nodded. "Unless we find something that requires as much power as the Forge, all we can do with the Delphic is study it further and keep it from Megatron's grasp. So, that... Isn't an inaccurate statement." He conceded.

"Well, not that this wasn't interesting, but I need to visit the washracks. I need to save my paint before this powder causes permanent damage." Sunstreaker said, looking down at the explosive residue on his paint in concern.

I looked down at my own residue-covered frame, and I looked around the room and saw that every Autobot that had gone on the mission, which was everyone in the room except Moonracer, was covered in explosive residue just like Arcee, Sunstreaker, and I were. All of us taking a visit to the washracks wouldn't be a bad idea.

"I think we all need to visit the washracks," Jetfire said, reaching the same conclusion I had as he brushed at the black powder. "This explosive residue is quite irritating."

"Agreed." Arcee said, brushing off some of the explosive residue on her frame as well. "This stuff is probably scratching our paint as we speak."

A horrified look crossed Sunstreaker's faceplate, and he and Sideswipe rushed toward the door. "Out of the way!" The yellow twin cried urgently as he punched the door control.

"We have to save our finishes!" Sideswipe said in a tone as urgent as Sunstreaker's, then he got a confused look on his faceplate. "Huh... I'm acting like you, Sunny." He added as they both ran out of the door before it could finish opening.

"Don't call me that!" Came Sunstreaker's angry response just before the sounds of their pedes hitting the floor faded away.

After the twins ran out of the med-bay, I shared an amused look with Arcee. "You said that just to freak Sunstreaker out, didn't you?"

Arcee smiled mischievously. "Of course I did," she said, then turned and walked out of the med-bay.

Chuckling at how Arcee played Sunstreaker like a fiddle, I followed her out of the med-bay as the others followed us as well. And soon, we were all walking out in the hallway on our way to the washracks.

* * *

><p>Three breems went by after we all visited the washracks.<p>

In that time, Elita, Chromia, Ironhide, Prowl, and Smokescreen had returned from their patrols, and Optimus had returned to base after speaking with Lennox about the S.T.F likely having a mole.

After Optimus and the others had returned, everyone had gone to the ops center to start the party Miko had roped us into having to celebrate Christmas.

And by 'party', I mean we were all standing around the ops center with a cube of energon in our servos, well, most of us. Springer and Ironhide were lobbing in the corner, and the twins were using different types of human oils to create energon cocktails, not sure how that was going for them.

I took a sip from my cube and looked around the room from where I was leaning against the wall next to the entrance tunnel.

Smokescreen was talking to Prowl, who had to be dragged into the ops center by Jazz to even be here, and it seemed like the black and white tactician was getting annoyed by the white and blue mech's almost constant chatter, but since Prowl was the silent professional, he just let Smokescreen talk.

Bumblebee and Flareup were standing a little off to the right of Prowl and Smokescreen, and, as was common for them, they seemed to be uncomfortable standing so close to each other.

Jazz and Jetfire were over near the Xbox area as they talked with Jack and Miko, who was leaning up against Jack, it was clear that placing those two under the Mistletoes had the unintended side-effect of getting them together. I wasn't sure how long they would be together, however, since few high school relationships lasted very long.

Raf was sitting next to the other two humans and was mostly ignoring the 'party' by playing Rage, a role-playing game, but he occasionally looked over at Jack and Miko and shook his head in amusement, likely surprised that the other two had gotten together.

Arcee, Chromia, and Elita were standing in front of the workstation, swapping stories of happier times or just amusing moments in their lives, judging by how they would occasionally laugh at something one of the three sisters said.

Ratchet, Moonracer, and Bulkhead were in the med-bay, with the two medics still studying the Delphic, while the Wrecker was confined to a medical berth for the next few solar-cycles while his injuries fully healed. So, the last bot in the room was Optimus, who was standing just inside the first ark of the ground bridge by himself.

Taking another sip from my cube, I saw Flareup walk away from Bumblebee and walk over to join Arcee and her sisters, while Bumblebee himself walked over to me.

_"Quite the party, isn't it?"_ Bumblebee asked as a conversation starter as he leaned against the wall next to me.

An alarm went off in the back of my helm, but I didn't know why. Bumblebee's question wasn't really unusual, nor was it a serious question. But for some reason, it sent alarms off in my helm. I shrugged off the alarms for the moment.

"I wouldn't call it a party, it's more like we're all standing in the room at the same time," I said as I took another sip from my cube.

Bumblebee sipped from his own cube. _"So,"_ he said, clearly trying to start the conversation over again.

More alarm bells went off in my helm, but I ignored them again. "So," I repeated his statement.

_"So, why haven't you asked Arcee out, yet?"_ The yellow and black scout asked with a wide smirk.

'_That's_ why there were alarms going off in my helm,' I thought as I calmly took another sip of energon.

"When?" I asked, referring to when he found out I had feelings for Arcee.

_"Well, Springer was pretty vocal about how he thought you were only mad at him for ogling Arcee because you liked her, too. I don't believe that part, but I think the rest fits. I just haven't had a chance to speak to you about it in the last jour or so."_ He said. _"Now, why haven't you asked her out?"_

I ignored his question for the time being. "If that's the reason why you believe I like Arcee, then why hasn't Bulkhead said anything?" I asked, mostly delaying my response, but also a little curious why Bulkhead hadn't said anything about what Springer said since I had beaten the green Triple-Changer up.

_"Bulkhead isn't very... Perceptive, about these things. I bet he told you about how he, Springer, and Wheeljack came up with the idea to trap Ironhide in the conference room until Ironhide asked Chromia out?"_ He asked, then continued at my nod_. "Well, the only reason he even knew Ironhide liked Chromia was because everyone else told him, and he didn't believe them until after Ironhide confirmed it. Now, why haven't you asked Arcee out?"_ He repeated for the second time.

"Because I don't want to ruin a perfectly good friendship," I finally answered, taking another sip of energon from my cube.

Bumblebee rolled his optics. _"That's weak,"_ he said with a quiet chuckle. _"You just gotta take a chance sometimes. And if you don't... Well, I sometimes blert things out."_

It was my turn to chuckle. "That is quite ironic coming from you, Bumblebee, and also ill-advised." I said.

The yellow and black scout gave me a confused look. _"What are you talking about?"_ He asked cautiously.

I gave Bumblebee a flat look, then looked over at Flareup as she talked with Arcee and her sisters, then looked back at Bumblebee and grinned like a chess master that just got checkmate.

Bumblebee's faceplate went blank. _"You wouldn't..."_

"If you even_ think_ about telling Arcee, I will tell Flareup how you feel about her." I said as I finished off my cube and sub-spaced it.

The yellow and black scout sighed. _"Truce...?"_ He offered weakly.

"Truce," I agreed, still smiling since I had successfully prevented Bumblebee from telling Arcee how I felt, at least for the time being.

After I spoke, Bumblebee and I fell silent, and I looked over at Optimus. I still hadn't asked him about Megatron being his brother, and this was probably as good a time as any to do it.

I stopped leaning against the wall and walked over to the Prime. "Kind of out of the way from the others, isn't it?" I asked once I had walked the short distance to where the Prime stood, hoping a causal approach would make Optimus a little more comfortable about talking about Megatron.

"You want to know why I didn't tell you Megatron was once my brother," he said, a statement, not a question, seeing straight through what I was trying to do.

"Well... Yes," I said, turning around so I was facing the ops center. "I have been here for more than ten jours, Optimus, and not once have you mentioned that Megatron is your brother."

"Was," Optimus corrected. "Megatron _was_ my brother. We were siblings from when we were sparklings, up until he shot the High Councilor. After that, my own brother severed our bond, we will _never_ be family again." He said with his usual calm, though I detected some sadness in his voice.

A thought came to me at his words. "Optimus, is Megatron severing your sibling bond the real reason why you haven't pursued a relationship with Elita?" I asked. "Is it possible that some part of you is afraid she will betray you like Megatron did?"

A thoughtful look entered the Prime's optics, and he was silent for a long time. Finally, he looked back at me. "Why are you so convinced Arcee won't return your feelings?" He asked in turn.

That shut me up, and I looked over across the ops center at Arcee as she appeared to be telling a story to her sisters and Flareup. Was it really possible that she had feelings for me as well? Could it be possible? If she did, were her feelings for me as strong as mine were for her? Were Arcee and I in the same situation Moonracer and Ratchet were in? Both harbering feelings for the other, but too stubborn or oblivious to notice?

I shook my helm. It wouldn't make sense for a femme like Arcee to be interested in a mech like me. I was a young and relatively inexperienced soldier, she was a veteran of more battles than I could count. She was drop dead gorgeous, I believe I would be considered average by Cybertronian standards. It wouldn't make any sense for her to be interested. So, I pushed those hopeful thoughts away.

But, as I did so, I felt a pulling sensation from my spark, and I felt a brief shock of electricity pass throughout my chassis, starting at my spark.

I winced slightly at the pain, and for some reason, felt compelled to look across the ops center.

Arcee had a confused, and what seemed like a slightly uncomfortable, look on her faceplate. She was glancing around the ops center, as if she was looking for something. She stopped looking around after her sisters spoke to her again, but she still looked be uncomfortable, and she rubbed her chesplates, just above her spark. But, her faceplate contorted a little in obvious pain a moment later.

I put on a stoic look as Arcee waved off her sisters when they tried to pull her toward the med-bay. Because at the same moment her faceplate contorted, I felt another jolt of electricity go through my frame... Starting at my spark.

What the hell was going on?

* * *

><p><strong>Well, that certainly went on longer than I thought it would. Lol. I am sorry if I rushed things at the end, but I <em>really<em> wanted to get the chapter done. It ends up at almost 20k words, so it's not like the chapter was short. Haha.  
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**And on that note, Fate Calls is now over two-hundred thousand words long... :| That is... Wow... When I started this, I never expected Fate Calls to be as long as it is. And I really am not close to finishing it. Lol. So, I thank you for coming this far in following my story. :)  
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**This chapter's is "Linkin Park - Figure.09/You Become A Part Of Me" It took me a while, but I finally found a song that seems to fit the way I left the ending.  
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********So, please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.********


	26. The Final Frontier

**Would you look at this, an update that is actually _ early_ instead of being late. Not as long as my last update, but still. And I am also still sorry for making you all wait, I hate not writing at the pace I like to, which is fast. I was stuck on the first part of this chapter for three weeks, just the beginning, the rest of it I have written in the last week or so. So, even though this was faster than my last update, I am sorry for making you wait.  
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**By the way, I changed one little detail in chapter 23. I said that the flamethrower that Pyros use burns the same temperature as the surface of the Sun, and that Cybertronian armor was basically vaporized by that heat, but that wouldn't make any sense, since there are metals on Earth that almost have a higher melting point than the temperature of the Sun's surface. So, I changed it to sixty-thousand degrees kelvin, which makes it ten times hotter than the surface of the Sun. I know, minor thing to change, but my muse demanded it.  
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**I hope everyone had, or still is having, a lovely holiday season. I certainly did, and I am going to enjoy the rest of my Christmas/New Year's break.  
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**And also, for everyone who reviewed, thank you. It always makes me happy to see that people read and like my story. Thank you. :)  
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**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.  
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**Selena Snow - That was my intention. Lol. I am glad you found that part funny, it was a lot of fun to write such an awkward moment. Hehe. Unfortunately, my muse never gave me ideas for Valentine's Day. :/ *Sighs* I know I could have had fun with that if my muse had given me ideas, but oh well. There will be other funny moments. Thanks for reviewing. :)  
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**Autobot Shadowstalker - Yes, yes they did. And I originally planned on having Arcee kiss Shadowstreaker on the check or something, but I decided against it since it wouldn't have worked with what I have planned. And that is classified, and will remain so until I reveal what it means in a later chapter. And yes, yes they are. Haha. But that is what makes writing their characters so much fun. And I updated soon-ish. Didn't take as long as last time, at least. Haha.  
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**jayna prime - *Watches you hyperventilate and become speechless* I seem to have broken you. Huh. Lol. I am glad you liked it so much. :)  
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**smoshaholic123 - I am glad you think so. I always like writing a cliff-hanger, they are so much fun. Haha. Thanks for leaving feedback.  
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**Anduren - I am flattered that you like this fic better than the cartoon, I don't think it is since I am a humble person, but I thank you anyway. I liked the cartoon a lot up until the last five episodes or so, it just became way too serious and there wasn't enough humor to balance it, and it was becoming inconsistent, which was another reason why I stopped liking it.  
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**AllSpark Princess - Of course Shadowstreaker will be a large role in the story, what that role is, however, is classified. But I can tell you that he will play a major role in the future.  
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**Fox of Magic - *Looks at date* Will a few days faster than my last update do? Lol. Sorry for keeping you waiting.  
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**Kaylee Chiara - I do tend to have a lot going on in my chapters, don't I? Guess that's a side-effect of writing such long updates. Haha. And my chapters always seem short in my head, but when I write them down, I find that they are really long. Lol.  
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**As I said in another reply, classified. You will get answers, but it will take a while, there are things that have to happen between the explanation and now. And you are most welcome. :)  
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**Sky's Limit5 - Actually... Answers for that are going to have to wait for a while, so it I'm not going to tell you this chapter... Sorry? Haha. I promise that there will be answers, but it is going to take a bit before I get to that point in the story. So please be patient with me. :)  
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**And I love writing long updates, but there is a point where it comes time to end the chapter, and the last chapter seemed to go on forever.  
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**pfolk - We all have outbursts, so it's fine. Glad to hear the story you are writing is coming along nicely. And consider this chapter a late Christmas gift. **

**Happy New Year to you, as well.  
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**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.  
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><p><strong>March 30, 2013 8:34 A.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

One orbital-cycle, two jours, one mega-cycle, and five solar-cycles. That was how long it had been since I left my original reality.

It was strange, I had learned and experienced so much in only a little over one Earth year that it almost seemed like I had been here a lifetime.

I had been turned into a Cybertronian after spending my first seventeen orbital-cycles as a human. I had become a warrior. I had taken the lives of sentient beings. I had seen a few things that would have stayed with me for the rest of my days, even if my memory hadn't been photographic before becoming a Cybertronian. I had gotten a tiny glimpse of what it was like to be a sparkling's sire, even though it was only about one mega-cycle. And I had... Fallen in love, with my best friend and partner, a femme who I knew didn't feel the same way about me.

But, it seemed as though my spark didn't care if Arcee felt the same way or not, because for the last three jours, my spark had been fluttering more than it ever had, almost to the point of ridiculousness. Three jours ago, my spark would sometimes flutter if Arcee laughed or smiled. Now, it would flutter if we were standing close to one another, or sometimes if she even just looked at me. And then there was the matter with the... Pulling, and the electrical jolts that accompanied it.

The Pulling, as I had come to call it, has happened three times since it first started on Christmas, each exactly thirty solar-cycles apart, which meant that it wasn't just a one-time occurrence, it was in a cycle. But despite that, I hadn't told anyone about the Pulling, and luckily no one had found out... Yet, at least. And that was good, because I felt compelled to keep the Pulling a secret even more than my feelings for Arcee. Of course, I was still being very careful not to let anyone else find out about my feelings for Arcee. But, I was putting a bit more effort to keep the Pulling a secret, since there was no doubt in my CPU that if Arcee finding out how I truly felt about her would weird her out and ruin our friendship, then her finding out about the Pulling would be even worse. Much worse.

Other than the three Pulling instances, there had been surprisingly few noteworthy events over the last three jours.

General Shepherd was still searching for the mole in S.T.F, last I had heard. Although, he hadn't informed us of the progress of his search in nearly a jour. It was possible that he had caught the mole, but that was highly unlikely since we hadn't been informed of the capture of the double agent. So, S.T.F's mole was more than likely still giving information to MECH.

Ratchet and Moonracer have continued to study the Delphic, they had not been able to find out very much information about the enigmatic power source, however, and its creators remained a mystery to us. But fortunately, they have had better luck with the armor fragment I gave them back in December. According to Moonracer, who had been studying the armor fragment more than Ratchet, the fragment was made out of an alloy based on common Cybertronian metals that was mixed in with a number of common elements, such as Silicon, Carbon, Aluminium, and Magnesium. And also contained rare elements, such as Yttrium, Lutetium, Praseodymium, and Scandium. The combination of all these elements produced a super-dense, incredibly strong alloy that was almost on par with my armor in terms of tensile strength and resistance to heat, which didn't bode well for us if every Decepticon on Earth was now equipped with the armor. Moonracer was still studying the armor fragment in hopes that she could find a weakness we could use against it.

Also, the Decepticons had been strangely inactive in the last three jours. And it was made even more unusual by the fact that this lull in Decepticon movement came with Megatron in command and not Starscream, who had often gone into long periods of inactivity. Not that any of us were complaining, the less time we spent fighting the Decepticons, the less likely we were to destroy something and reveal our presence to humans.

Finally, our energon situation was even worse than it was in December. Not even the Energon Harvester was helping, since we hadn't detected a stray energon signal in nearly two jours. We knew the location of almost a dozen major energon deposits, but the Decepticons had all of them under heavy guard, so we couldn't raid them to replenish our own storage hangers. As a result of our lack of an energon inflow, we were down to roughly fifty storage containers of energon, which was barely enough to last the eighteen of us for two mega-cycles. If we didn't find an energon deposit soon, all of us would fall into stasis lock within a jour, due to lack of energon. But, that was something Optimus told us Autobots to keep to ourselves, we didn't need Raf, Miko, and Jack worrying about our energon supply when there was nothing they could do to help with the problem.

Speaking of the human teens, I was hanging out with Miko and Jack at the moment, playing the Dark Carnival campaign of Left 4 Dead 2 with Jack... On expert... With realism on... It seemed like a good idea at the time.

"Boomer!" Jack yelled as he pushed the obese infected away from Ellis, who he was playing as, and unloaded half a clip of his AK-47 into the undead monstrosity, causing the Boomer to go... Well, boom, in a shower of digital gore.

"Don't lose the gnome!" Miko cried frantically, pointing her index figure to where Jack and I had thrown a garden gnome, that we had won earlier in the level by getting the high score on a carnival shooting gallery, before we started to battle the undead horde. "I don't want to lose the achievement!"

"It's fine, Miko," I said, rolling my holoform's eyes at Miko's words as I blasted the heads off of three normal infected with Coach's Combat Shotgun. "Besides, you're not even playing, don't worry about whether we get an achievement or not."

"But Jack's playing, and he's been trying to get this achievement for a while," Miko said, then leaned against Jack and wrapped her arm around one of Jack's, grip obviously light so she wouldn't hamper his ability to play. "And I want what he wants."

I made a gagging sound as Jack and Miko shared a quick kiss, they were one of those lovey-dovey couples, which was perfectly fine, but they often said really cheesy things. "Oh, sorry, your mushiness almost made me purge my tank." I joked, using the rest of the rounds I had in my shotgun to kill a Smoker that had failed to trap me in its tongue before I pulled out my melee weapon, a guitar, and took the heads off of any infected that got too close.

"You're just jealous you don't have a girlfriend," Jack said with a smile as he threw a Molotov Cocktail at an infected Clown and the horde of normal infected following him.

"No, actually. I am just tired of watching you two kiss every few klicks." I said matter-of-factly, but internally I didn't care what they did, I knew I would be stealing a kiss from Arcee if she and I were together... Although, that would require Arcee to have feelings for me in the first place.

'Don't start thinking about that,' I thought, keeping my holoform's face impassive as I continued killing the infected with my character's guitar.

"Uh-huh, sure," Jack said sarcastically, shooting me a disbelieving look as he and I killed off the last of the infected.

"Who's going to carry the gnome?" I asked, changing the topic to avoid discussing this subject any further.

My attempt to change the topic seemed to work. "You are, I carried it last time," Jack said as he reloaded his character's AK-47 and replaced the Molotov Cocktail he used by grabbing one of two Pipe Bombs from a nearby table.

"I've been carrying it about eighty percent of the time since we got it," I protested as I moved Coach over to the table and grabbed the other Pipe Bomb. "And you are the one who wants the achievement..."

Jack sighed and moved his character toward the garden gnome. "Bastard," I heard him whisper under his breath, more out of jest than anger.

"Only when I play video games, and that is mostly in the form of kill-steals," I joked as I switched my guitar for my primary weapon and started to reload my Combat Shotgun, preparing to play bodyguard while Jack carried the gnome through the level.

Jack never got to the garden ornament.

Without warning, or even its signature theme music, a Tank ran out from behind a building and swung one of its massive fists into the AI-controlled Nick, downing the ex-con man and sending him flying into a wall about fifty feet away.

"What the hell?!" Jack asked no one in particular as he backed up his character and opened fire on the Tank with his AK. "That Tank is a freaking ninja!"

"I am aware," I said, unloading on the Tank with my Combat Shotgun while I backed away from the hulking infected as well. "Just shoot him and hope we have enough room to stay out of his way."

"I'm trying," Jack responded in a slightly panicked tone as his AK-47 clicked empty and he pulled out his dual pistols and kept firing. "But he's not going down."

As Jack and I continued pouring rounds into the Tank, the monstrous infected picked up a rock and threw it at the AI-controlled Rochelle, instantly killing our second AI-controlled teammate, since she had been downed twice in a row without being healed.

"This is going well," I quipped as I fired the last rounds of my shotgun into the Tank and started to reload as it turned its attention to Jack and I.

Jack sighed. "Shut up, Shadowstreaker," he said, only half serious as he reloaded his pistols and continued to shoot at the Tank.

"That wasn't nice," I said, faking a sad and offended tone as the Tank picked up another rock and threw it at Jack and I.

Jack managed to dodge the incoming boulder, but I didn't react in time, and the rock hit my character squarely in the chest, downing him in an instant.

"And that wasn't nice, either." I said, adding onto my last statement as I shot at the Tank with the pistol you automatically pull out when you are downed. "It's all up to you, Jack. No pressure."

Jack ignored me, keeping his focus on the screen as he switched his pistols for his AK and reloaded the assault rifle and continued firing.

As Jack reloaded his AK-47, the Tank picked up another rock and threw it at Jack's character, but Jack managed to move behind a wall before the Tank finished throwing the boulder, causing the rock to impact the wall instead of Jack.

After the boulder shattered against the wall, Jack stepped out from behind his cover and fired his AK at the tank, continuing to back up since the Tank was charging him.

"Use your Pipe Bomb. If you time it right, the explosion will do a lot more damage than what you're doing with your rifle," Miko advised.

Without acknowledging his girlfriend with words, Jack pulled out his Pipe Bomb and, after taking a brief moment to aim the crosshairs on the screen, threw cylindrical explosion at the Tank.

The Pipe Bomb soared threw the air, tumbling end over end as it flew straight toward the Tank... And hit the monstrous infected right between the eyes... And then bounced right back to Jack and exploded close enough to him to down his character.

The silence that followed Jack's character being downed by his own Pipe Bomb was deafening. I had played with game quite a bit when it first came out, and not once had that happened to any my friends or I when we played. We had some pretty spectacular fails, of course, like accidentally killing ourselves with a Molotov Cocktail, but we never managed to kill our characters with our Pipe Bombs. That was really hard to do, since Pipe Bombs had a few micro-klick timer that would beep at you before it blew up, and that made Jack's fail all the more impressive.

After the three of us continued sitting in silence until we respawned in the safe room, I looked over at Jack. "How the _hell_ did you manage to do that?" I asked in exasperation.

"Shut up..." Jack said in what was meant to be an angry tone, but it ended up coming out as an amused one, since he was struggling not to laugh at his own misfortune.

"That was impressive, Jackie," Miko laughed. "And not in a good way."

The taller teen shook his head. "And now my own girlfriend is making fun of me..." He said with a sigh, tone carrying a tone of false sadness and hurt.

"Aww... I hurt my Jackie's feelings," Miko said, pushing out her lower lip in a fake pout before she pulled her lip back in and smiled. "Let me fix that." She raised her head up and planted a kiss on Jack's lips.

I made another gagging sound. "Oh, man, do we have a mop?" I asked. "I just hurled cheesy lines all over the floor."

Anything Jack or Miko might have wanted to say to me for my comment was lost, because immediately after I spoke, the workstation started to beep rapidly, a sign that something had been detected on our sensors.

And since I was the only Autobot besides Ratchet and Moonracer, who were studying the Delphic and armor fragment in the med-bay, that wasn't out on patrol or down in the Safe, I had to find out what our sensors had found.

I tossed the controller in my holoform's hands to Miko. "Hold this," I said, and then dematerialized my holoform and changed from my MRAP form into my true form.

"What's going on?" Miko asked as I started to walk toward the workstation, with an excited look on her face, from what I could see out of my peripheral vision.

"Don't know," I replied, not looking over at Miko and Jack as I reached the workstation and started typing the command into the computer that would cause it to display what our sensors had detected. "But we're about to find out."

I finished typing the command into the computer, but instead of showing an energon signal, the signature of a Decepticon ship, or even the beacon of a weapons cache, the main screen zoomed out from its constant overview of Earth. And the screen continued zooming out past Luna before focusing on a large asteroid that, according to the readings on the screen, was passing within two-million kilometers of Earth, a short distance in terms of how outer space was measured.

"Well that was anti-climatic," Miko said, the excited look on her face being replaced with one of boredom. "I was expecting something cool, like a new Bot coming to Earth or a Con base that lost its cloaking device. But no. It's just an asteroid." She and Jack chuckled slightly at her joke.

I ignored the two humans and looked at the screen in confusion. What Jack and Miko had failed to realize, is that there was an energy signature coming from the asteroid, an energy signature that was unique to Cybertronian technology. There seemed to be something masking the signal as well, like a cloaking device or something similar. But it wasn't doing a very good job at keeping the signal masked, since the signal was still strong enough for our sensors to detect it from two-million kilometers away. So, whatever was masking the signal was likely severely damaged or rundown.

But the fact that there was even an energy signal coming from an asteroid raised questions. What was causing the signal? Was it a piece of a forgotten superweapon created by the Decepticons? Was it something like the Delphic? Or was it something else entirely?

After I had continued to ignore Jack and Miko, they seemed to get the feeling that there was more to what they were seeing on screen, and they stopped chuckling.

"What is it, Shadowstreaker?" Jack asked, a tinge of worry creeping into his voice since I had a serious look on my faceplate.

I ignored Jack's question and opened a comm-link with Ratchet. _"Ratchet, we have a situation out here."_

There was an audible grumble from Ratchet's end of the comm-link. _"What?"_ The white and red medic asked in a tone that was a little gruffer than what was normal for him, probably because I had likely interrupted a test he was conducting on the Delphic.

I glanced at Jack and Miko, who looked like they were starting to get unsettled by my silence, before replying. _"The long-range sensors just picked up an asteroid passing within six-hundred thousand kilometers of Ear-"_

_"Let me get this straight,"_ Ratchet interrupted. _"You disrupted my tests on the Delphic because our sensors detected an asteroid in a system that has not one, but _two_ asteroid belts? How is this important?"_

_"You didn't let me finish,"_ I pointed out patiently, knowing that Ratchet was only being short with me because he wanted to get back to running tests on the Delphic. Maybe I was going to have to talk with Moonracer about having an intervention with Ratchet concerning his constant testing of the Delphic, he was slightly obsessed the ancient crystal.

Ratchet sighed. _"Alright, then. So, what is so unique about this asteroid that you have contacted me and interrupted my tests?"_ He asked, tone only slightly less impatient than it was a moment ago.

_"According to the sensors, there is an energy signal coming from the asteroid that is unique to Cybertronian technology. But I can't tell if the technology was built by Autobots or Decepticons, since there also appears to something masking the signal,"_ I explained.

There was a pregnant pause from Ratchet's end of the comm-link. _"Moonracer and I are on our way out,"_ he finally said, curiosity replacing the impatient tone in his voice, and then closed the link with that.

After Ratchet closed the comm-link, I looked over at Jack and Miko, who now looked quite anxious. "Sorry for ignoring you, I was talking with Ratchet." I apologized.

"What's going on?" Jack asked, repeating his earlier question.

"Somewhere on that asteroid," I said, pointing a thumb digit at the main screen. "Is an unknown amount of Cybertronian technology. Technology that someone, somewhere wanted to keep hidden."

"How do you know that?" Miko asked, giving the screen a brief, confused glance, likely not understanding the readings being displayed on the main screen.

I gestured to the screen again, this time with my helm. "The readings on the screen say that there's an energy signal coming from the asteroid that is unique to Cybertronian tech, and it also seems to be being masked by something, likely a cloaking device like the one we have for the base. But beyond that, I don't know anything else, that's why I told Ratchet. Hopefully, he and Moonracer will be able to give us some more info." I said, then looked over toward the hallway and waited for Ratchet and Moonracer to appear.

I didn't have to wait long, since the two medics stepped into the ops center a couple micro-klicks after I spoke.

"How long ago did the signal appear?" Ratchet asked as he shooed me away from the computer and he and Moonracer went to stand at their parts of the workstation.

"About two or three klicks ago," I answered, folding my servos behind my backplates as I moved to stand next to the catwalk Jack and Miko were standing on.

"Has it changed in intensity since it appeared?" Moonracer asked, not looking up from her keyboard as she started typing commands into her part of the workstation.

Even though Moonracer couldn't see me, I shook my helm. "No, it hasn't changed at all since our sensors detected it," I replied.

There was a short silence as Moonracer and Ratchet went to work at the computer before the white and red medic spoke. "You are correct in saying that the energy signal is being masked, Shadowstreaker, there's something running interference on our sensors."

"I am getting some interference, as well," Moonracer added. "It seems like a cloaking device, but it must be severely damaged, otherwise we wouldn't be getting a signal at all."

"I knew that already," I said to her evenly, not wanting to accidentally seem like I was irritated for no reason. "Is there anything about the signal that the rest of us aren't aware of?"

Ratchet answered my question instead. "It isn't coming from Autobot or Decepticon technology," he said flatly, as if that wasn't at all surprising.

I gave Ratchet a confused look. "What do you mean?" I asked, keeping my servos folded behind my backplates as I stepped over to Ratchet and looked up at the main screen, while Ratchet himself kept his attention on his keyboard.

The white and red medic didn't look up and gestured vaguely to the readings on the main screen. "The energy signal might be being masked, but it was clear enough for me to run a comparison between the signal and the readings of all known Cybertronian technology, both Autobot and Decepticon. And the signal doesn't match anything. Even the Delphic had a different energy signal than this piece of technology." He explained.

"So, we basically know nothing about what's on the asteroid," Jack summed up.

Moonracer shook her helm. "Not necessarily," she said. "We know that the technology is Cybertronian in origin, and that it wasn't created by Autobots or Decepticons. That leaves two options. One, the technology, whatever it is, was developed by neutrals after the war, which could make it an interesting object to study. Or two, the technology was created by one of the Thirteen, which would make this an invaluable find. One that could, potentially, shift the balance of the war in the Autobots' favor."

"That's a little dramatic, don't you think?" I asked dryly. "After all, the thing we have been able to determine about it is that the technology wasn't created by Decepticons or Autobots. For all we know, the signal is coming from a container of the Cybertronian equivalent of coffee."

Moonracer and Ratchet gave me identical, perplexed looks. "What is 'coffee'?" They asked in unison, Moonracer tilting her helm slightly, while Ratchet kept his helm vertical.

"It's a popular human drink, helps them wake up in the morning," I replied, then got the conversation back on track before we could veer off topic. "But the point is that we don't know what's on the asteroid, saying that technology could shift the balance of the war is a bit premature."

"I know that, I was merely saying that anything made by the Thirteen could be a game-changer for either faction," Moonracer said. "And that means that even if this technology wasn't created by the Ancients, we need to recover it so there's no chance such technology falls into Decepticon servos."

I immediately understood what Moonracer meant. "Are you saying-"

"That you, Jetfire, and Springer are going to leave Earth for a while when they return from patrol?" Ratchet interjected and finished my sentence. "Yes, that is exactly what she means."

Miko's face lit up at Ratchet's words. "You're going into space?" She asked me, eyes wide with excitement and wonder that was... Well, Miko-like.

I shrugged. "Apparently," I replied easily, as if going into outer space was barely a noteworthy event, which was true for most Cybertronians, but not me. I couldn't deny that the concept of breaking the gravitational pull of the only planet I had ever stood on was... Incredible. But it was also terrifying, since we would be on our own after we left Earth's atmosphere and got too far away for our comm-links to work. So, I was more than a little excited for this mission, but I was also just as nervous.

Miko was silent for a micro-klick. "Dude, you are _so_ taking my phone so you can take pictures," she said with a totally serious, and yet somehow excited, look on her face, as if there was a real possibility that I was going to take her cell phone into space.

"I am going to be flying through space in one of my alt modes, I am not going to have time to take snap shots for you, Miko." I replied, giving the young Japanese girl a flat look for her words.

Miko huffed. "Then make time!" She cried in an urgent tone, putting her hands on her hips as if she was trying to strike a commanding pose, though it wasn't effective. "I missed out on a photo opportunity the last time you Bots went into space, I am _not_ missing out on a second one!"

I chuckled at Miko's antics and opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, I was abruptly filled with a feeling of dread that was not my own, and I felt compelled to look at the main screen.

The feeling of dread increased when I looked at the image of the asteroid, but it was also accompanied by hope and happiness, but also sadness and a feeling of grudging acceptance, and also... Amusement. It was by far the strangest and most confusing combination of emotions that I had ever felt.

And just as quickly as they appeared, the emotions vanished like wisps of smoke, leaving me standing in the ops center with questions ringing in my helm.

'What was that?' I asked myself. The rush of emotions I just experienced felt similar to what my bond with Solus felt like when it was open in the Pocket Universe, but the bond I shared with her had remained closed when I was flooded with emotions. And-

"Are you alright, Shadowstreaker?" Moonracer asked, cutting my thoughts short. "You seem troubled."

I shifted my attention away from the main screen and looked at Moonracer. "I'm alright, just confused about something," I responded, then turned around and started walking to my quarters. "I'll be in my quarters until Jetfire and Springer return to base," I said over my shoulder-joint, ignoring the puzzled looks I knew the others were giving me.

As I walked down the hallway, I was filled with another feeling of dread, but this time its meaning was clear. Whatever was on the asteroid... Was going to change a lot of things, and those changes might not be for the better.

* * *

><p>Forty klicks later, I was standing on top of our base with Jetfire and Springer, who had returned from patrol ten klicks ago, waiting for Ratchet to tell us when to take off and leave Earth's atmosphere. The reason we were standing on the top of the base was simple. We were waiting for the asteroid to get closer.<p>

Moonracer had plotted the course of the asteroid and found that it would come within seven-hundred and fifty-thousand kilometers of Earth, close enough for us to fly to it in roughly six breems when we weren't limited by the atmosphere of Earth. But, we couldn't cover that distance in one go, we would need to bring some cubes of energon with us so we replenish the energon that we were going to burn up during our flight. But, since there was no gravity in space, we would need to land on a planetary body that had enough gravity to keep our energon in our cubes. Luckily, the path of the asteroid was going to take it past Luna, which meant we would be able to use Earth's only satellite as a stepping stone to get to the asteroid.

We just had to wait until Ratchet told us when to leave.

"This is taking forever," Springer complained, pacing back and forth impatiently.

"Planetoids tend to take time to move through the cosmos, youngling," Jetfire deadpanned from where he sat on the helicopter pad.

Springer huffed. "Shut up, old mech," he said as he sent an annoyed look the seeker's way, which didn't faze Jetfire in the slightest.

"You are a very impatient mech, youngling," the seeker said. "We haven't even been up here for five klicks, and you are already being irritable."

I heard Springer growl under his breath. "It's impossible not to be angry when... _He_ is here," he said, sending a scowl in my direction, which he had done periodically since we had come up here.

I pretended I hadn't noticed the scowl Springer was giving me and kept standing with my servos behind my backplates, patiently waiting for Ratchet to open a communications channel and let the three of us know when to leave. Normally, I might have responded to the green Triple-Changer's words, but since we were about to go on a very dangerous mission with just him, Jetfire, and I, I felt like there were important things to do than trade, hopefully, verbal blows with Springer. So I decided to stay silent until Ratchet contacted us.

Surprisingly, I wouldn't have to stay silent for long, since Ratchet opened a communications channel with the tree of us at that moment.

_"You are clear to leave Earth's atmosphere,"_ the white and red medic said simply, then closed the channel with that.

After Ratchet closed the channel, we all folded into our alt modes, with Springer folding back the rotors on his helicopter form so he could achieve a high enough speed to keep up with Jetfire and I. And then we all started flying straight up, quickly leaving the speed of sound behind in a sonic boom.

Soon, Jetfire, Springer, and I were flying at mach 3.2, the maximum speed we could fly this low in the atmosphere without leaving Springer far behind, but we would be able to pick up the pace by a factor of about thirty when we entered the heavens and weren't restricted by the air of Earth.

Ten micro-klicks after we started flying, we had already risen beyond the height of Mount Everest, and since the air was only a third as think up here as it was back down on the ground, we also increased our speed to mach 4.1.

After twenty micro-klicks, we were flying more than five times the height of Earth's tallest mountain, and we were now moving at mach 13.2, exactly four times the maximum speed as a SR-71 Blackbird, or roughly four and a half kilometers per micro-klick.

After thirty micro-klicks, we were so far above the ground that the atmosphere was virtually non-existent, allowing the three of us to fly at one-hundred and thirteen times the speed of sound, or about three times as fast as the Saturn V rocket. There was no doubt in my CPU that the news networks of Earth were going to have a field day with three unidentified flying objects soaring straight up in the air in broad daylight. But since we had a limited time in which to get to the asteroid, that didn't matter at the moment.

Just one full klick after we took off from the top of our base, we were already more than two-hundred miles above the Earth, and well on our way to our first stop. Luna.

* * *

><p><strong>March 30, 2013 10:53 A.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

Ratchet stared at the main screen in the ops center, watching the three red dots on the screen that represented Jetfire, Springer, and Shadowstreaker as they passed the half-way point between Earth and its only moon.

To his left, he could hear his courted typing on the keyboard of her section of the computer, as well as the two romantically involved human children as they watched a television channel called 'CNN' in the same area Ratchet had seen them playing their virtual games. He could hear an unfamiliar human female saying something about 'three unidentified flying objects leaving Earth's atmosphere at speeds unobtainable by human aircraft,' but he couldn't make out the exact words.

And he did not need to.

The method in which Shadowstreaker, Springer, and Jetfire had left Earth was not a stealthy one, and Earth was far too densely populated for a member of the human race to not notice Cybertronians leaving atmosphere in such a way, so it was obvious that the human female was speaking about his fellow Autobots.

'They are gone for less than two breems, and the human media is already running stories about three mysterious objects leaving Earth, Agent Fowler will be not be pleased,' Ratchet thought with a sigh. The agent of the United States' government had yet to call the base, but Ratchet had no doubt that it wouldn't be long before he did, likely after he had crafted a cover-story for the 'UFO's that the human female was talking about, and the annoying human would most certainly demand to be informed about the situation.

Bringing himself out of his thoughts before he got angry at Agent Fowler when he wasn't even here, Ratchet looked away from the main screen focused his attention on the left corner of the screen of his section of the computer, where images of his most recent test of the Delphic was being fed from the computer in the med-bay, to the computer in front of him through a live-feed.

Ratchet knew that his extensive testing of the ancient energy source was slightly... Obsessive. But, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to the Delphic than what he and Moonracer had already determined. His courted mostly lost interest in conducting tests on the Delphic, and had since focused most of her attention on the armor fragment Shadowstreaker had recovered from the battlefield more than three jours ago, but he would continue administering tests on the ancient energy source for the next centi-vorn if it meant he would unlock all the mysteries it was hiding.

Tearing his gaze away from the readings of his current test of the Delphic, Ratchet looked at the right corner of his computer screen, where he was running a program that would hopefully clear up the energy signal their sensors had detected more than a breem ago.

Just like with the Delphic, Ratchet couldn't get rid of the feeling that there was more to the signal than what their instruments were telling them at the moment, so he was clearing up the signal in hopes that the sensors would give them more information. But in the breem since he had started to clear up the signal, there had been no noticeable change.

"Perhaps it is time for you to turn that program off," Moonracer suddenly said, causing Ratchet's thoughts to come to a halt. "If there was anything more to the energy signal, the program would have completed its run-time."

As if his courted's words were the password to the computer in front of him, Ratchet's section of the computer beeped once and the window in the right corner of the screen automatically enlarged itself, signifying the completion of the program he had been running.

Giving Moonracer a small smile as if you say 'you were saying?', Ratchet turned his attention to his computer screen... And froze in shock at what he saw.

Moonracer noticed the change in her courted's demeanor, and walked over to him. "Ratchet?" She asked as she put a servo on his shoulder-joint and gave him a concerned look. "Is everything al-" She cut herself off in mid-sentence when she noticed what her courted was staring at out of her peripheral vision, and when she looked fully at the screen, she widened her optics and froze at the data she was reading.

Moonracer and Ratchet stood there for several long micro-klicks, unable to speak or tear their gaze away from the screen as it displayed the unmasked data the sensors were receiving from the asteroid.

"We should... We should get Optimus in here," Moonracer finally said, breaking the silence she and her courted had fallen into. "Only a Prime would know if these readings are correct."

Ratchet nodded absently and opened a comm-link with the Prime without taking his optics off of the constant flow of data coming from his computer. _"Optimus, we need you to return to base, there is an urgent matter that requires your attention."_

_"What is it, Ratchet? Has something gone wrong with the mission to recover the technology from the asteroid?"_ The Prime asked almost immediately.

_"No, not yet, at least."_ Ratchet replied slowly, still not taking his optics off the data on the screen, which was now starting to form five images close to the core of the asteroid.

Optimus took a long moment to respond. _"Then what is so urgent?"_ He finally asked, tone carrying a tone of confusion so faint, the only reason Ratchet even detected it was because he had known him for so long.

_"The discovery of what is on the asteroid itself. And it is either our salvation... Or our doom,"_ Ratchet replied quietly as the data finished rearranging itself into five images.

One of a legendary hammer.

One of an enigmatic broadsword.

One of data cylinder that had a different signature than any other cylinder Ratchet had seen.

One of a near-mythical great sword.

And one of a great ship, which was of a design that wasn't found anywhere in the data archives of Ratchet's computer.

* * *

><p><strong>March 30, 2013 3:43 P.M<strong>

**On approach to asteroid containing unknown Cybertronian technology**

We had been flying through space almost non-stop for more than six breems, with only a twenty klick break from flying when we made a pit stop on Luna. I was tired, bored, sick of flying, and just wanted to go back to base and relax. Of course, since Jetfire, Springer, and I were just _now_ arriving at the asteroid, that last one was going to have to wait for a while.

The asteroid that we were racing toward was absolutely massive in person, I estimated that it was around ninety kilometers long by sixty kilometers wide, making it large enough to be considered a planetoid. It was reflecting a moderate amount of light, meaning it was likely a M-type asteroid that was made primarily out of Nickel-Iron, and containing only small amounts of stone. So, landing on the asteroid wasn't going to be a problem since we could magnetize our pedes, but drinking one of the cubes of energon we brought with us would have to wait until we got back to Luna, since the energon would simply float away once we pulled them out of our sub-space.

As Jetfire, Springer, and I approached our destination, we reduced our speed enough to make it safe for us to land on the asteroid without harming ourselves in the process. After slowing down, we transformed and landed on the asteroid in a crouch, sending fragments of metal and rock flying out into space as we impacted the surface of the asteroid with a boom that was lost in the vacuum of space.

Rising from my crouch, I looked around and saw that the area around us was riddled with tiny craters from where meteorites had collided with the asteroid. There were formations of boulders surrounding us, but instead of being made out of stone, they were made of metal, more than likely Iron or Nickel.

Looking straight up, I could see more stars than I had ever seen before, all shining brighter than when looking at them through atmosphere, like a never-ending sea of white marbles. And Earth and Luna were right in the middle of that sea, with Earth looking like a giant sapphire, while Luna looked more like a great white diamond. It was so strange, seeing the only home I had ever known so far away from me, it was truly an indescribable feeling. But it was definitely an amazing sight, and nothing I had seen even came close to comparing to its beauty.

Well... Arcee did, surpassed it, in fact. But that was beside the point.

_"About fragging time we got here,"_ Springer said through a communications channel since there was no air to carry sound, breaking me out of my thoughts as he stretched his servos. _"My gears were starting to cramp up."_

_"Then I suggest you stretch them,"_ Jetfire said as he walked toward what looked like a hill, but was likely the edge of a crater from when another asteroid collided with this one, and then closed his end of the channel with that.

Not bothering to add anything onto Jetfire's statement, I quickly followed the seeker in his short walk to the edge of the crater, with Springer following the two of us after he stood in place for a brief moment.

After we reached the edge of the crater a few micro-klicks later, we ascended the hill... And then looked in awe at the sight that greeted us.

The crater in front of us was about two kilometers wide, and about a quarter of that deep. But that wasn't what was leaving the three of us in awe.

What left us in awe was the grouping of light grey structures built in the center of the crater.

Each of the structures were defying physics, floating in place without anything to keep them there. They didn't seem to be designed with aesthetic value as the main goal, since the angles of the buildings looked to be designed more for efficiency than anything else, but they were still amazing to look at. Perhaps not as breath-taking as the Decagon, but amazing, nonetheless. There were also glowing orange lines going up and down each building, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out why they were even there.

The smallest structures were about as tall as me, not including the extra height they gained from floating above the surface of the asteroid. I didn't know what they were, but my guess was that they were either some kind of storage containers, or a deactivated weapons platform.

The largest structure seemed to be a tower in the direct center of the crater, but I had no idea what purpose it was supposed to serve. It was very tall, however, the top of it was probably about twenty meters or so above our helms, which would make it about five-hundred meters in height.

Directly underneath the central tower, there was a tunnel dug into the asteroid. And it seemed like whoever had created the buildings in front us had also built down into the tunnel, since I saw orange light coming out of the tunnel, and of the same shade as the structures we could see.

As we continued to stare at the floating structures in amazement, I couldn't help but wonder if they had been created by the Cybertronians of the Age of the Primes, or maybe even designed by my carrier. But in the back of my helm, there was something telling me that wasn't the case. And for some reason, I felt less inclined to believe my own thoughts on who created these structures, and more compelled to listen to whatever was telling me these buildings weren't constructed by the Cybertronians of the Age of the Primes.

_"Buildings from the Age of the Primes... Is not what I expected to find here,"_ Jetfire said in a quiet tone, clearly still in awe of the structures in front of us.

_"They aren't from the Age of the Primes,"_ I said matter-of-factly, trusting that the feeling I had was right.

Springer rolled his optics at me and glared. _"And I suppose that you know everything when it comes to the architecture of the Ancients, don't you?"_ He asked sarcastically, obviously not asking me a serious question.

I ignored Springer's tone. _"For one thing, my creators designed the Decagon and it was more like a piece of art than a military base. But these structures weren't designed to be beautiful, they seem to be built for efficiency and nothing else."_ I said, not looking at the green Triple-Changer as I continued to gaze at the floating constructs. _"And for another, there's something off about this place. Not really sure what it is, but it's nagging at me, call it a gut feeling."_

_"Well, gee, you're right, Captain I-Know-Best,"_ Springer mocked condescendingly. _"Because if you say something, it's always right no matter what,"_ he scowled. _"Shut up, you hypocrite."_

I kept my faceplate neutral as Springer spoke. _"I am not like you, I am not 'chasing' Arcee, Springer."_ I said, trying to keep my voice as neutral as the look on my faceplate, but failing to. _"Why is that so hard to get through your helm?"_

_"Enough, younglings,"_ Jetfire interrupted before Springer and I could continue trade blows. _"You both told Optimus this wasn't going to happen in a mission again."_

If there was atmosphere on this asteroid, I am certain Springer would have grumbled under his breath at Jetfire's words, while I would have merely sighed in annoyance at how Springer always seemed to be able to irritate me just enough to drag me into an verbal confrontation, even if it was a short one.

_"Fine,"_ Springer said with an angry tone directed at Jetfire, then focused his attention on me, gave an ornery grin, and made a long, swooping gesture with his servo. _"Femmes first."_

I responded to Springer's insult by grabbing the back of his armor, picking him up off the ground a few feet with one servo, and tossing him down into the crater, causing him to tumble helplessly down the incline of the side of the crater until he reached the bottom.

Sensing Jetfire giving me a flat look, I turned my helm and returned the look he was giving me with a flat look of my own. _"He said femmes first, I was just helping him down the incline."_ I said, unable to sound like I didn't enjoy what I just did.

Jetfire shook his helm. _"Let's just get down there, shall we?"_ He asked rhetorically, then took a step forward and let himself slide down the side of the crater.

I quickly followed Jetfire's example by stepping forward and letting myself slide down the side of the crater as well. After Jetfire and I slide down into the crater, we rejoined Springer, who was scowling at me, but that wasn't anything new, and we started walking toward the tunnel beneath the central tower.

As we approached the first of the floating structures on our way to the tunnel, I noticed that they weren't as flawless as they seemed at first. At a distance, they were seamless in their construction, perfect, like masterpieces of efficiency. But up close, I could see their faults. A plasma weld here, a gap between metal plates there, things that human eyes would have missed completely, due to the fact that these faults were tiny, likely only a few micrometers across. But I noticed them, and it all added up enough to give me the impression that whoever built these structures either didn't completely understand the technology they were using to create them, or they had built the structures in a rush, possibly both.

I brought myself out of my thoughts as the three of us reached the edge of the tunnel.

The tunnel was about three-hundred meters in diameter, and was filled with the same orange light that ran up the sides of the structures around us. It was also lined with constructs of the same make, except the ones in the tunnel seemed to have different functions than the constructs we had already seen. From what I could see, the tunnel went down for kilometers, not all the way to the center of the asteroid, but it was still around twenty kilometers deep. There were also obstructions in the tunnel in the form of bridges that appeared to be made out of the same orange light that was running up the sides of the structures. These bridges criss-crossed the tunnel like a spider web, with each of them either leading to a gap in the structures lining the sides of the tunnel, or just stopped in the middle at what was likely some sort of computer or a maintenance station.

_"Well, this is an interesting find,"_ I said. _"Seems like the surface structures are just the tip of the iceberg, whoever built this place must have hollowed out a significant amount of the asteroid and used it as a base."_

_"So it would seem,"_ Jetfire agreed. _"But that isn't the only interesting find."_ He added cryptically, and before I ask what he meant, he kicked a sliver of Iron that was near his pede into the tunnel, causing a previously invisible barrier to glow orange and ripple like water as the Iron sliver passed through it and fell toward the bottom of the tunnel at a higher velocity that it should have in this gravity.

I gave the area the ripple first started a confused look. I didn't have to ask to know that an atmospheric shield was had caused the ripple.

An atmospheric shield wasn't really a shield, it more like a curtain that kept air inside a structure built in an area without atmosphere. It wasn't a common technology, although it also wasn't very difficult for Cybertronians to create, but I had never heard of an atmospheric shield being transparent, or in this case, acting as the barrier of an artificial gravity field, judging by how fast the Iron sliver had fallen. And that made this atmospheric shield very strange, but that wasn't anything new, this entire place was strange.

_"How did you see that?"_ I asked Jetfire, pushing my confusion aside for the time being.

_"You don't get to be as old as I am without learning a thing or two along the way,"_ Jetfire replied easily, then changed the topic as he gestured to the start of a walkway that looked like it went around the sides of the tunnel all the way to the bottom. _"We should probably get a move on, it's going to be a long walk down."_

Springer took one look at the walkway and shook his helm. _"Yeah, that's not happening, old mech,"_ he said, then without another word, he jumped out from the edge of the tunnel, passed through the atmospheric shield, and started to free-fall toward one of the orange bridges below us.

I blinked several times at how Springer did something that actually made sense, since simply jumping down would save a lot of time we would have spent walking. _"Did Springer just make an intelligent choice?"_ I asked, still keeping my attention on the shrinking form of Springer as he free-fell.

_"He did,"_ Jetfire said with a trace of surprise in his voice. _"And it is a choice that I will follow, see you down there,"_ the seeker turned so that his backplates were to the tunnel, gave me a causal, two-digit salute before he let himself fall back, passing through the atmospheric shield and starting to free-fall upside-down.

Taking Jetfire's lead again, I turned around and let myself fall back, only faintly feeling myself pass through the atmospheric shield before I couldn't feel anything except the wind hitting my faceplate.

Free-falling wasn't an experience that could be properly described. The closest thing I could compare it to would be standing in a windtunnel set to more than one-hundred miles an hour, only you weren't standing on the ground, and you could see and feel yourself falling, which makes free-falling completely different than standing in a windtunnel, which is why free-falling can't be properly described.

After free-falling for nearly a klick, I saw Springer land on one of the bridges that stopped in the middle of the tunnel, and Jetfire joined Springer on the bridge a moment later, leaving me the only one still free-falling.

Flipping over so that I wasn't falling upside-down, I adjusted my trajectory so I would land next to Jetfire and Springer. And when I was only about two-hundred feet above it, I activated my jets to slow my descent and bent my knee-joints slightly when I landed to make sure my landing was as soft as possible.

After I landed, I took a quick note about how the bridge we were on wasn't made out of light like it seemed to be, but was in fact made out of some kind of crystal that carried light through it, and changed its shade when it was stepped on. Even if the bridge wasn't made out of light as it appeared to be, the fact whoever that built this place was able to create a bridge out of something as fragile as crystal still made it a very impressive feat of engineering.

Static suddenly blaring from the end of the bridge caused my observations to halt, and put any conversation Jetfire, Springer, and I would have on hold for now.

The three of us shared a look before we started walking toward the end of the bridge.

As we got closer to the end of the bridge, the life-sized, hologram of a ground-based mech, who was unmoving, appeared out of a sphere that was floating beyond the edge of the crystal arch we were standing on.

_**"Alert: Central computer files corrupted."**_ A deep, synthetically created disembodied voice said in the language of Cybertron, surprising us slightly at its abrupt appearance. _**"Beginning automated playback at log 467B. Log owner: Head Scientist Techlaser, of the Reclamation Division. Subject: Incredible."**_ The disembodied voice went silent as the hologram of the mech that must have been Techlaser started to move and speak.

_**"Techlaser's log, entry 467B: It's incredible! Ever since we first found this asteroid, we've only looked at thermal images of the vessel. Now to finally get to the core of the asteroid and can see it with our own optics... It's breath-taking,"**_ The hologram said with tone filled with awe. _**"I can't even imagine the technological leaps we'll make when we find a way to study its systems! E-"** _The log froze and started to skip, much like a CD would when it was damaged.

The disembodied voice, which I deduced was a VI of some sort, spoke again. _**"Alert: Log partially corrupted, fast-forwarding."**_ The VI went silent again as the log fast-forward ahead and started playing again.

_**"-I just hope this ship isn't as active as some of the ruins we've found. This technology is so advanced, it makes us look like primitive organics that live in caves. Tier 1 technology is dangerous enough when misused, but Tier 0? If this ship is active, and we mess something up, we could easily destroy this entire solar system. I pray that Primus watches over us, wherever he is. Computer, end recording."**_ The voice and hologram of Techlaser faded away with that.

Springer, Jetfire, and I shared perplexed looks at what this Techlaser was talking about. But before any of us could speak, the VI spoke again.

_**"Automatic playback: log 545C. Log owner: Head Scientist Techlaser, of the Reclamation Division. Subject: Failures, and wariness."**_ It said, falling silent again as Techlaser's hologram reappeared, looking more solemn than when he spoke last time.

_**"Techlaser's log, entry 545C: The ship claimed another life this cycle. Holdfast, one of the security guards assigned to protect us science-types, was atomized in front of my optics approximately three breems ago as he threw me out of the path of one of the vessel's defense turrets... Which I had accidentally activated."** _Techlaser's hologram said with a regretful sigh, then a frustrated look appeared on the hologram's faceplate. _**"I have told E-"**_ The log started to skip again.

_**"Alert: Log partially corrupted, fast-forwarding."**_ The VI said, going silent again as the log fast-forward ahead, though it seemed like it hadn't even skipped a word, just part of one, and stopped skipping.

_**"-Is that we can't keep studying the ship until we fully understand why it keeps firing on us, but he always points out that only one in ten trips into the ship have produced a casualty, and we learn more about the vessel on each trip. He is technically correct, but he failed to address the fact that while we are learning more about the vessel each time we walk through its halls, we are only learning about minor communications systems and the duodenary power systems. We still have no idea how it is powered, what material was used to construct its armor, what type of shielding it has, how its weapon systems function, and even its propulsion is a mystery, since the Particle Cannons guarding the engine room have reduced even the most heavily-armored of our tanks to stray ions in a single hit."** _Techlaser's hologram shook its helm and was silent for a long time before it continued.

_**"I haven't the slightest idea why the vessel reacts in the manner that it does when we attempt to study its major systems, the other ruins we studied have defenses as well, but they didn't react like this,"**_ the hologram shook its helm again. _**"A question for another cycle, I have other topics for this log. Ever since the accident an orbital-cycle ago, Research Division has been under-staffed, so they have been folded into my Division, which means Reclamation is essentially going to be continuing all of Research's projects with the remaining members of the Division, as well as our own. While I always welcome more bots in Reclamation, I am wary about one of the projects we will be conducting, called Warrior. From what I have read, its goal is it create a fully sentient super-soldier with as much free will as the rest of us. Research had already created a process for creating one of these super-soldiers through the consumption of a formula, but the accident last orbital-cycle delayed the project. This might sound like a good thing, but I have studied the formula, and it is dangerously unstable. I am going to have Lockjaw look for a way to stabilize it before we start testing. Computer, end recording."**_ Again, Techlaser's voice and hologram faded away.

After the second log ended, I felt like I something was behind me. But when I turned around, nothing was there, although I thought I had seen a pair of violet optics duck behind a corner in the shadows as I turned around, but it was gone so fast that I was sure it was my CPU playing tricks on me.

Shaking off the feeling I was being watched for the moment, I looked back at the sphere as the VI spoke up again.

_**"Automatic playback: log 546A. Log owner: Head Scientist Techlaser, of the Reclamation Division. Subject: Discovery!"**_ It said before Techlaser's hologram reappeared again.

_**"After searching the ship for so long, we have finally found out why the vessel reacts so violently to our intrusions, this ship is the armory of the Thirteen!"**_ The hologram said in a voice that was even more excited that it had been in the first log. _**"We found the armory by accident when we were trying to gain access to the vessel's computer systems, but we must have activated something we were not supposed to, because we ended up opening a hidden door instead of activating the computer. The armory was free of defenses when it first opened, but it created somehow materialized several Particle Cannons within a few klicks after we opened the door, preventing us from exploring the entire armory. However, we were able use a stasis field and remove several objects of interest before the defenses activated."**_ The hologram paused for a moment and grabbed a data pad from something out of view before he continued.

_**"Let's see, one data cylinder, one hammer, and two swords. Normally not an impressive amount of Ancient technology, but after searching through our data archives, we found that everything except the data cylinder was an artifact of the Thirteen. The hammer once belonged to Solus Prime, it was both the forge she used to create the weapons of the other members of the Thirteen, and the weapon she wielded against Unicron at the dawn of Cybertronian civilization. We don't know very much about the first sword, only that it is called the Omni Saber. It belonged to Megatronus Prime, but there is nothing even less known about the Prime who wielded it than the Saber itself. The second sword, however, is very well known. It is the Star Saber, Prima's weapon, the bane of Unicron. If we can figure out how to use any of these artifacts, we might just be able to restart the Age of the Primes. For the time being, we're keeping the relics close to the ship, we have no idea if the Thirteen installed some sort of fail-safe that activates when one of their artifacts is taken a certain distance from their-"**_ Techlaser was cut off by a scream that sent chills down my spine, it was like hearing the horror of a thousand bots all crying out at the same time. _**"What was that?!"**_ Techlaser's hologram asked someone we couldn't see, them looked forward again. _**"Computer, end recording!"**_ His hologram faded from existence once again.

We had no time to be amazed that these Cybertronians had come across the armory of the Thirteen, because after Techlaser's hologram faded away, the same piercing scream we heard coming through the hologram and cut through the air like a moleculon knife, sending another chill down my spine that I am sure Jetfire and Springer also felt.

"What the pit is that?" Springer asked, his tone uncharacteristically flat and nervous, something I had never heard from him.

I looked back at where I thought I had seen a pair of violet optics earlier. And sure enough, there they were, accompanied by several other pairs of optics, all of which were violet. "Nothing good, Springer," I said as I deployed my Scatter-Blaster, doing the best I could to keep my voice steady as fear crept into my spark.

Whatever was screaming let out another wail, sending another chill down my spine as more pairs of optics joined the first.

As more and more optics joined appeared, the first set of optics moved out of the shadows and took a step out onto the bridge. The orange light of the bridge revealed it to be a slightly disfigured Cybertronian that was moving around by using all four of its limbs, giving it the appearance of a crouching mechanical animal.

"Whatever happens here, don't get separated, we will fight more effectively as one," Jetfire instructed as more violet-opticed Cybertronians crawled out onto the bridge.

There was another scream from the thing that was wailing, more optics appeared in the shadows, and I could see the walls of the tunnel moving as Cybertronians crawled on them.

Jetfire, Springer, and I took a step back away from the violet-optic Cybertronians approaching us.

The VI spoke again. _**"Automatic playback: log 546B. Log owner: Head Scientist Techlaser, of the Reclamation Division. Subject: STAY AWAY!"**_

_**"Techlaser's log, entry 546B: STAY AWAY FROM THIS PLACE!"**_ Techlaser's hologram yelled urgently, although I was too busy focusing on the Cybertronians in front of us to know what his hologram was doing. "_**The Warrior project is a disaster, Lockjaw tested the formula on another Cybertronain against my orders, and instead of turning the test subject into a super-soldier, it turned the test subject into a mindless beast, whose only motivation is to make other Cybertronians like him. What started as one test subject, is now half the station, and we're losing ground. Fast. If anyone is hearing this, there's a reason why this station is drifting, and that is because we've deliberately sent this station out into the void to keep it from spreading. There's nothing here that's worth letting these things out, leave while you can. Do you hear me? Run! Ru-"**_ The log was abruptly stopped and it turned into nothing but static.

"I think that Techlaser guy was onto something," Springer said, shifting his optics nervously between the Cybertronians that were on the bridge, and the ones that were crawling on the walls.

"For once, Springer, you and I are in agreement," I said, deploying my missile launchers so I could track the Cybertronians on the walls, but they were like bugs, there were too many to count.

"And unfortunately, we can't go anywhere," Jetfire said grimly.

I gave Jetfire a quick glance. "What are you talking about?" I asked.

"The Nemesis is above our helms," Jetfire replied, pointing the servo that he wasn't using to hold his weapon up to where we had free-fell from.

I moved my helm just enough to look up, but not lose sight of the crawling Cybertronians. The Nemesis was indeed above us, having probably just arrived since I didn't see any gunships moving around it. It was hovering above the tower, clearly unable to get into the tunnel.

But, even though the Decepticon ship wasn't able to get to where we were, it still had more than enough firepower to offline us as soon as we flew out of the tunnel. And while there were a lot of these creepy crawling Cybertronians, the Decepticons would be able to clear them out with gunships, giving them free access to the ship Techlaser mentioned, and the artifacts they already had taken from it. And that wouldn't do.

I glanced over the side of the bridge. Wherever the artifacts of the Thirteen were being stored, it would be down at the bottom of this tunnel. Techlaser's log had said they were keeping the artifacts they recovered close to the ship in case there was a fail-safe built in, and the ship was at the core of the asteroid.

"We have to get down to the asteroid's core," I said in an even voice, sounding less afraid than I felt at the moment.

"Are you _fragging insane?!_" Springer hissed, giving me a look of disbelief. "You heard that log, there's nothing in this place that's worth letting these things out. And I know what you're thinking, and I'm not going to risk my life over a few trinkets left by the Thirteen!"

"We have three options, Springer," I said. "We can stand here and fight these things, which will likely end with the three of us being offlined. We can try and fly through the air defenses of the Nemesis, which will end with us being offlined. Or we can jump down to the core of the asteroid, recover the artifacts the builders of this place recovered, and pray that we find another way out from down there."

Springer seemed to think about what I said for a few moments, but his thoughts were no-doubt cut off when one of the violet-opticed Cybertronians jumped at the three of us, soaring through the air like a demented frog before the three of us riddled it with bullet-shaped rounds of energy, offlining the Cybertronian before it was even half-way through its leap.

After we offlined one of the violet-opticed Cybertronians, the others made a sound akin to growling, and it echoed around the tunnel.

"I vote going down to the ship and hoping there's another way out of here," Springer said quickly.

"I second that vote," Jetfire added. "And I think it's time we took our leave," after speaking, he turned and jumped off the bridge.

The crawling Cybertronians seemed to sense that we were about to escape, and they rushed at me as Springer followed Jetfire and jumped off the bridge.

I fired two shots from my Scatter-Blaster and took off the helms of a pair of Cybertronians before I launched four missiles right in front of the group of rushing Cybertronians. They hit right where I meant for them to, and the group was sent flying backward from the explosive power of my missiles, and also cracked the bridge.

After sending the horde flying back, I folded my missile launchers back into my shoulder-joints and returned my servo to normal before I let myself fall off the bridge, just in time to avoid one of the Cybertronians as it landed right where I had been standing just a brief moment before.

As I free-fell, looking up at the bridge and the Nemesis, I knew one thing. And that was while my fellow Autobots and I were alright for now, we weren't going to be safe until we were back on Earth.

* * *

><p><strong>Did I just leave you with a cliff-hanger for the year? Yes I did. Did I enjoy it more than I should have? Absolutely. When will I update again? Don't know, hopefully soon. <strong>

**I would have made this one chapter, but I realized that there was a LOT more to this story ark than what I originally thought. If I had made this one chapter, it would have been longer than my last one by a good margin, and I wouldn't have been able to post it until next month. And to be honest, the place I left this chapter was way too tempting to not make it a cliff-hanger.**

**This chapter's credit song is "8 Dawn Music - Buried Power" This song fits with the theme of the chapter very well. It's light most of the time, like with most of this chapter, but also has a darker feel to it at times, like with how I ended the chapter.  
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**********So, please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.**********


	27. The Station

**Well, I broke my record again. What is that, like three times in the last four chapters? Lol. So yeah, the length is the main reason this took so long, the second being my wisdom teeth coming out a week ago... That hurt... A lot. If you have had your wisdom teeth out, or are going to have them out, I feel your pain.  
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**Alright, so you know how I had a prayer request last night? *Knows everyone who is reading this for the first time will be confused* well, she came back, and we've resolved the situation. I don't know how many of you prayed, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart.  
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**As what I am making the norm, I thank everyone who reviewed and left feedback, you all make my day. :)  
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**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.  
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**Autobot Shadowstalker - I am glad, I really liked writing that chapter, not as much as this one, but still. Haha. *Notices your sarcasm* All except the weapons of the Thirteen are good things. *Prowl impression.* And I didn't do a good job of that, but at least this chapter is REALLY long.  
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**KayleeChiara - You think THAT was evil? *Laughs evilly* Oh, I have so many plans you will love and hate at the same time. Lol. Thank you very much for listing the things you like about my story, I will always believe it to be decent at best, but I thank you for telling me exactly what it is about Fate Calls that makes you come back to read it. :) And there is a reason why I haven't said anything about that yet, and it WILL be clear in its explanation, it will just take me some time to get there. And finally, if I managed to confuse you with my last chapter, this one will increase it ten-fold... And that is not me being arrogant, I am stating a fact, I managed to confuse Crystal and she knows most of what will happen in Fate Calls. Hehe.  
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**tg-darkside - I will never think of myself as amazing, but I am glad you think so. Haha. And I always wondered why other fics didn't do that, so I decided to make it happen.  
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**xDaughterOfKingsx - Thank you, sis. I was having a bad day when we were talking about that. And I can't put into words how happy I am that you listened to God and came back so we could resolve everything.  
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**pfolk - I always hate hitting a dead end on stories. I was going to write a Transformers/Mass Effect story, but I couldn't get passed the time-line. It would depend on how much free time I had, and what you wanted to do, but I would be willing to listen to ideas, yes.  
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**And I am not entirely sure how to reply to your last review... God... Bless... You?  
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**Abyss Prime - Thanks! *short response for a short review*  
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**Sky's Limit5 - I am glad you think so, and here's the next one!  
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**HanamiKaze - Well, I did name the ones that were taken off the ship, so that would probably be why. But if you are talking about the ones still on the ship, then the things you are thinking of are probably right. And they are going to get worse, sorry. Lol. Yeah, I made a lot of them back in my early chapters, I am getting better, but they are still there and I know it. And see what's happening with this update. :)  
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**Crystal Prime - Lol. Yeah, _you_ can wait, you are my beta, I tell you everything. Well, ALMOST everything. Hehe. Thanks for the review. :)  
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****Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.****

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><p><strong>March 30, 2013 4:24 P.M<strong>

**Research station constructed by unknown Cybertronians, inside an asteroid containing relics of the Thirteen**

I activated my jets and landed on the ground next to Jetfire and Springer. We had just finished our second free-fall since we first stood on the surface, and we were now standing at the bottom of the tunnel, out of reach of Decepticons and the crawling Cybertronians for the moment.

The bottom of the tunnel was a junction, with two huge hallways that lead to our left and right, which had ceilings about one-hundred meters in height and were roughly twice as wide as they were tall.

The hallway on the right seemed to be in... Less than stellar condition. It was made out of the same material as the floating constructs at the surface, but it was so badly damaged from what looked like weapons fire that it barely even looked like a hallway anymore. Its walls were almost completely black instead of grey like the structures above us, its ceiling was partially caved in, and the floor was blown apart in places, leaving craters in the middle of the hallway. It would more than likely was going to be bad for our health if we decided to travel down it.

But, while the right hallway was a mess, the left hallway was in perfect condition. It was simply crafted, with no unnecessary curves or designs in the architecture, no logos on the walls that might have given us a clue as to who created this place, there weren't even any benches for Cybertronians to sit on. It was just a long, straight, utilitarian hallway. Exactly what I expected to see, going from what I had already seen of this place.

"Which way?" I asked, already knowing my fellow Autobots would say left, but asking anyway just to be sure.

"Left," Jetfire said, nodding in the direction of the pristine hallway. "It's the only real choice. Going back up is out of the question, and going right seems like it would be a _very_ bad idea."

"I second that," Springer said quickly, looking up at the crystal bridges above us nervously, likely searching for any sign that the violet-opticed Cybertronians were following us.

"And I third that," I said as I deployed my Scatter-Blaster and my Plasma Chaingun. "So, let's get going while we don't have company."

Jetfire nodded at my suggestion. "Agreed," he said, then gestured for Springer to stand next to him. "Springer, you and I are up front. Shadowstreaker, you're on rear security." He ordered as he deployed his missile-shooting machine gun, or Automatic Micro-Missile Rifle, as I had found out it was actually called.

Without exchanging any more words, Springer and I moved into the positions Jetfire ordered us to, and then the three of us started moving down the hallway to the left.

We descended into silence after we started moving down the hallway, and beyond the sounds of our pedes hitting the metal floor, nothing made a sound. It was both reassuring and eerie. Reassuring because the lack of noise meant we weren't near any violet-opticed Cybertronians or Decepticons, and eerie since this place was so massive, and yet so quiet.

"This place is too quiet for my liking," Jetfire whispered to no one in particular, probably just to create some sort of sound other than our silent pede steps.

"Same here," I whispered back, turning my helm back and forth in search of hostiles behind us. "Silence is quite unnerving in a place this large."

"Silence is also good," Jetfire said. "Means that we're safe for the moment."

I nodded, even though Jetfire likely wasn't looking back at me and I wasn't looking ahead at him. "Same conclusion I reached. Still doesn't make this place any less unnerving, though."

Silence descended on us again, because there really wasn't anything to talk about, and it was probably for the best since we needed to focus on searching for hostile Cybertronians.

We came to another junction and, after taking a moment to decide which way to go, turned right. We continued down the new hallway, not saying a word as we kept our optics and audio receptors open for threats, until I saw the faint outline of a near-seamless doorway to my right, with a single word written above it in the language of Cybertron.

**Armory.**

I widened my optics as my inner gun nut screamed at me to move over to the door and open it, and then proceed to examine every weapon inside the armory next to me.

But I resisted the impulse to do so. We were trying to recover several relics of the Thirteen, which were of significant importance, before the Decepticons could. This wasn't the time to examine the weaponry of the Cybertronians who built this place... No matter how interesting, useful, plentiful, and drool-worthy they could potentially be.

'You like guns _way_ too much.' I own CPU seemed to observe, as if it was a separate entity.

'Shut up, CPU.' I thought. I really needed to get Ratchet to check up on me, this whole 'CPU-making-its-own-observations' thing was getting old.

My thoughts were interrupted as the scream that sent chills down my spine echoed down the hallway from the opposite direction we were walking, causing the three of us to come to an abrupt halt a short distance from the armory door.

"That's not good," I said, stating the obvious fact calmly as I stared at where we had just come from, prepared to fight the horde of violet-opticed Cybertronians, even though every part of me was telling me to run away from the source of the scream.

I heard Springer's helm turn to, likely, glare at me. "Oh, gee, what gave you that impression?" He asked sarcastically.

I ignored Springer and glanced at Jetfire. "Might I suggest taking cover in the armory to our right?" I asked, any trace of eagerness to see the weapons inside the armory overwhelmed by the need to find a place to hide from the horde. "There's going to be a lot of crazed Cybertronians after us, and not only will the armory keep us out of sight, we might find something in there to help us fight them off."

Jetfire looked off to the right, and then nodded after a moment. "It's our best option. Let's get in there before the company arrives," he said, then walked to the door and started to search for a control panel, since there wasn't one visible.

"I hate whoever built this place," Springer said as he and I walked over and joined Jetfire in his search for a control panel. He gestured at one of the sides of the near-seamless doorframe. "Why did they hide the control panel? There should be a panel right here!"

As if Springer's words were a magical spell which summoned things from thin air, a hidden panel next to the door slide into the wall, and the Cybertronian equivalent of a Hand Scanner replaced the hidden panel.

After the Scanner appeared at the spot Springer gestured, the green Triple-Changer widened his optics and looked at his servo in shock, as if he thought he'd created the Scanner by gesturing at the wall.

A look of mischief entered Springer's optics, and he gave me a crude grin before he looked up at the ceiling and spread his servos out. "Armorless Arcees should be falling from the sky!" He said in an excited tone, as if he expected his statement to actually happen.

My left optic twitched. It was obvious that the only reason he said that was to get a rise out of me, and to react to his statement would be doing exactly what he wanted, but I didn't care.

I stepped closer to Springer and Gibbs slapped him in the back of the helm hard enough to make him stagger forward.

Springer grabbed the back of his helm in obvious pain, but he had a smug look on his faceplate as he looked back at me. "Oh, would you look at that. Shadowstreaker is still touchy about the way bots talk about Arcee." He rubbed his helm for another micro-klick before he let his servo fall to his side. "I'd better watch what I say around her, not that I do a lot of talking anymore, mostly just _watching_." He smiled.

I bite back the growl working its way out of my throat. "You do that, Springer. Unless, of course, you want to revisit what happened the last time you opened your mouth around her. I'd happily trade a few cycles in the brig if it meant a jour or two without having to deal with you." I said coldly, leaning forward slightly for an intimidation factor.

Before Springer and I could continue to threaten each other, Jetfire walked over and Gibbs slapped both of us in the back of the helm. "Stow it, you two. _Now!_" He whisper-shouted, an uncharacteristically angry look in his optics. He usually was calm, slightly gruff at times, but calm.

Springer opened his mouth to speak, but slammed his jaw shut when Jetfire gave him a glare that would have offlined him, had looks been able to kill sentient beings.

"Now,_ both_ of you are way out of line," the seeker said, shifting his glare between the two of us. "And when we get back to Earth, the two of you will be punished for bringing this rivalry on a mission. But we have to get back to Earth first, so for now, just stop talking to each other and help me get the armory door open." With one last look at Springer and I, Jetfire turned and walked over to the Scanner.

"What's there to help with?" Springer asked, looking like he still wanted to trade blows with me, but was obeying Jetfire and moving on from our confrontation. "Servo Scanners can't be bypassed or disconnected from security systems, and it's impossible to fake a scan."

Jetfire ignored Springer's question and placed his servo on the Scanner.

An orange strip of light appeared beneath Jetfire's digits after he put his servo on the Scanner, and it moved up his digits before it went back down to the bottom of his servo, and then flashed red and disappeared.

_**"Access: denied."**_ The disembodied voice of the station VI said after the Scanner deactivated, then fell silent with that short statement.

After the VI fell silent, Springer looked at Jetfire incredulously. "Are you joking? That's your plan on how to get inside that armory?" He asked, tone mimicking the look on his faceplate.

Jetfire returned Springer's disbelieving stare with a flat look. "Do you have a better idea? Or do you want to stay out here with those crazed Cybertronians?"

As if on cue, another scream from the horde echoed down the hallway, sounding closer than the last one, since I could faintly hear countless pedes and servos hitting the floor.

The scream seemed to take the fight out of Springer, since he sighed and walked over to place his own servo on the Scanner.

Just like when Jetfire placed his servo on the Scanner, an orange strip of light appeared beneath Springer's digits after he put his servo on the security device. And after scanning his servo, the light flashed red and disappeared.

_**"Access: denied."**_ The VI said, then fell silent again.

"This is going well," Springer said sarcastically as he stepped away from the Scanner so I could try as well.

"Springer," Jetfire said, giving the green Triple-Changer an annoyed look. "Shut. Up."

Springer, thankfully, took his suggestion as a threat, which it probably was, and he went silent as I stepped up to the Scanner.

I placed my servo on the Scanner. The orange strip of light appeared beneath my digits after I touched the Scanner, and after repeating the same process it had for Jetfire and Springer, the light flashed red and disappeared, just like it had for my fellow Autobots.

_**"Access: de-"** _The VI started to tell us I was denied entry, but it started to skip like Techlaser's logs did before I had time to take my servo off the Scanner.

As the VI continued to skip like a damaged CD, I noticed that one of the orange lights on the wall further down the hallway turned blue and started giving off sparks, like it was a damaged power line.

The blue light transferred to another orange light that was closer to my fellow Autobots and I, then it transferred to another light, and another and another, until it had transferred to the light right next to me. It showered me in sparks for a moment, before, in what almost looked like a bolt of lightning, the light transferred itself into the Scanner, causing it to ark with electricity that didn't touch my servo, which was still on the Scanner, and then shut down, along with the skipping voice of the VI.

After a micro-klick, the Scanner powered up again and started to scan my servo again as if it hadn't done so in the first place. And when the Scanner finished its second scan of my servo, the line of light flashed green instead of red before it vanished.

_**"Access: granted."**_ The VI said, reappearing just long enough to make that short, shocking statement before falling silent again as the near-seamless door opened with only the faintest whisper, revealing a short hallway that led to another door.

If I thought the hallway was eerily silent when we were walking down it, then it was completely silent after the VI gave me access to the armory. There was literally no sound. If someone dropped a pin from where we first stepped into the hallway, we would have heard it. Even the sound of the approaching horde of Cybertronians seemed muffled by our silence.

I looked down at my servo, and then back at where the blue light had first appeared. Where did that light come from? How did it override the station VI? Why did it appear after I touched the Scanner? And what was it in the first place?

Whatever it was, it managed to bypass a Servo Scanner. And that was something which not only shut down if its internal workings were exposed, which made it impervious to hacking, but it scanned for the spark signature, bio circuitry, and examined the exact metal composition of the Cybertronian attempting to gain access down to the atomic level, making it absolutely impossible to fake a scan.

'Or so we believed,' I thought. If that light was able to bypass a security system that was impossible for us to crack, then whatever the source of the light was, it was something far more advanced than anything we had ever even theorized. Something way beyond our ability to create.

The shocked silence of my fellow Autobots and I went on for several micro-klicks before Springer voiced the question we were all asking ourselves. "What the _pit_ was that?"

Before Jetfire or I could answer Springer's question, another scream from the horde echoed down the hallway and the sounds of them crawling along the floor got louder. Much louder. And within a few micro-klicks of the third scream, more than a dozen violet-opticed Cybertronians slide around the corner and started rushing toward us, and they were soon joined by countless others.

"We have no time to wonder how or why that light opened the door for Shadowstreaker, we need to get inside the armory while we still can," Jetfire said over the sound of the approaching horde as he stepped into the short hallway between the door which had just opened and the one that was still closed.

I deployed my Scatter-Blaster as the horde got closer and Springer joined Jetfire in the second hallway as well, but I didn't need to use it since I moved into the door and hit a button on the other side that must have been to close the door. But, just as the door closed, I heard something impact and then frantically claw at it. Evidently, we had gotten in here just in time.

After the first door closed, and the horde started to claw at it, I heard the second door slide open without us having to press anything, more than likely having been set to automatically open after the first door was closed.

I turned around after I heard the second door open, and then widened my optics in delight at what I saw.

The armory was illuminated by orange light, just like every other room in this place. It was probably about twice the size as the armory we had back at base, making it around a kilometer long. And both sides of it were lined with row after row of weapons I had never seen before.

The right side of the armory was packed with what seemed to be heavy weapons, but they looked nothing like any weapons I had ever seen. They were more streamlined then any weapons we had back at base, and their designs were... Strange. It was obvious that they had been created by the makers of this station, since I could see a few parts on some of the weapons floating in place like the structures at the surface, but they were still odd in appearance. That didn't mean there appearance was off-putting, however, I still was looking forward to examining them up close.

The left side of the armory seemed to be where the standard weapons were kept, unlike our armory. A collection of pistols, over-sized rifles, grenades, and what seemed to be blocks of metal lined the weapons racks, all of which were clearly designed in the same odd way as the heavy weapons on the right.

Confused why there were raw materials in an armory, I walked up to the nearest weapons rack that held one of the metal blocks and gave it a closer look.

It had rounded edges, not unlike the other weapons I could see, and it was small enough to be carried on the backplates of a Cybertronian, or in my case, the small of my backplates. Orange lights were littered different areas of the metal block, although they seemed to be at a low setting since I could barely see their glow. And on the left side of the rounded block of metal, there was a simple circular button that had no apparent use.

'Curious,' I thought, reaching out and tentatively touching the button on the side of the block.

As soon as my digit came into contact with the button, the block of metal expanded and shifted its shape, not unlike when we changed form. It changed its shape until it formed into a massive pump-action shotgun that was longer than my servo, and, as what seemed to be the norm for the creators of this place, had some of its parts floating above or around the main body of the weapon.

"_That_ would certainly put a hole in something," Jetfire said as I picked the shotgun up and shouldered it, while Springer picked up an over-sized rifle from a rack next to me.

"Or blow something apart," I said, cocking the pump on the shotgun and revealing the currently empty ammunition chamber to be on the bottom of the weapon, like many human shotguns. "Going by the size of the barrel, this thing packs enough firepower to tear apart a Cybertronian's torso," I added, looking at the barrel of the shotgun, which was almost large enough to fit one of my fists.

"Only if it has ammunition to fire," the seeker said as he picked up a cylinder-shaped glowing crystal that had been at the bottom of the weapons rack I picked up the shotgun, then offered the crystal to me. "And I assume that shotgun uses this as ammo... Whatever this is," he gave the tiny crystal an appraising look. "Reminds you of a smaller version of the Delphic, doesn't it?"

I took the crystal Jetfire was offering me and gave it a once over. It was somewhat like the Delphic, however, it was far less bright, shaped differently, and was glowing orange instead of white. It was like someone had looked at the Delphic, and attempted to make a crude copy of it, while changing its shape in the process.

"I can't deny that they look alike," I said. "But this seems to be a lot less powerful than the Delphic, like when humans make cheap knock-offs of high-quality products so they can be mass produced."

"The fact it even resembles the Delphic raises questions," Jetfire said, giving the crystal in my servo his full attention. "For instance, how were they able to make a power crystal that appears to be very similar to the Delphic, something that defies what Cybertronians know of physics, when we have the Delphic back on Earth?"

"Maybe there's more than one Delphic," Springer piped, looking over a power crystal he had picked up from the weapons racks in front of him. "We haven't found anything that says there's only one Delphic. Yeah, we have basically no idea how it works right now, but we've only had the thing for a few jours. And if we study it for vorns and vorns... Well, we'll probably be able to create our own Delphics, albeit less advanced versions."

I was stunned into a silence for a moment, before I nodded. "That... Is true, Springer," I said, blinking at Springer's logical, well-thought point.

Springer merely gave me a grunt of acknowledgement, put the over-sized rifle back on the weapons rack, and walked to the other side of the armory to look at the heavy weapons.

I looked at Jetfire. "That's the second time he's said something or done something intelligent this cycle," I whispered, voice giving away my shock.

Jetfire nodded mutely, looking passed me as he gave the green Triple-Changer a confused look. "I know, and that's two more intelligent moments than he usually has per cycle," he whispered back, then shook his helm and looked at me. "But I think we're getting off topic. Plug that crystal into your shotgun, let's see what it does."

Knowing Jetfire was right about us getting off topic, I dropped the subject of Springer's intelligent statement, and loaded the power crystal in my servo into the shotgun.

The shotgun hummed as it powered up after I inserted the crystal into the ammunition chamber. The lights littering the weapon brightened exponentially, almost to the point they looked white instead of orange. And a holographic display on the stock of the shotgun came to life, displaying the Cybertronian symbol for the number eight, clearly an ammo counter.

Jetfire gave the powered up shotgun an impressed look. "High ammo capacity for a shotgun of this size," he said as he looked at the display. "I would have thought it would have held one or perhaps two shots per magazine, not eight."

"Efficient and likely powerful, I like it," I said with a smile, then turned to the weapons rack I had picked the shotgun from and picked up the other power crystals. "I think I'll keep it for a while, in fact."

"I will look for a suitable side-arm," Jetfire said, picking up and examining a pistol that had been on the weapons rack directly in front of him. "I feel comfortable with my Missile Rifle, no point in changing my primary weapon when I know how to use it."

"I call this... Thing," Springer said, trying, and failing, to pick up an enormous, multi-barreled heavy weapon that had many of its parts floating around the main body of the weapon, almost like miniature planets orbiting a star. "Whatever this thing is."

"That's a missile launcher, Springer," Jetfire said, not even looking at the weapon the green Triple-Changer was attempting to pick up, still examining the pistol he had picked up.

Springer paused in his attempts to pick up the heavy weapon and looked at Jetfire. "How do you know that?"

Jetfire pointed a thumb digit over his shoulder-joint at the power crystals, which were long and had a cone-like shape at the top, on the weapons rack Springer had picked the heavy weapon up from. "The power crystals are shaped like missiles. And since Shadowstreaker's shotgun uses crystals shaped like human shotgun shells, it is easy to figure out what kind of weapon that is."

Springer looked at the power crystals, which I noted did look like missiles now that Jetfire said they did, and it seemed like realization had entered his optics, since I saw them increase in size. "Oooh... Now it makes sense," I heard the green Triple-Changer say to himself, then raise his voice to it normal level. "Well then, I call this missile launcher," with that, he went back to trying to lift the massive heavy weapon.

As Springer continued to try, and fail, to pick up the missile launcher, I shared a humored look with Jetfire, then looked at Springer. "You do realize that thing's too heavy for you to use, right?" I asked.

The green Triple-Changer turned his helm and glared at me. "Shut the frag up," he growled, then turned his attention back to picking up the missile launcher without another word to me.

Deciding against any further attempts to convince Springer that the missile launcher was too large for him to use, I turned back to the weapons racks in front of Jetfire and I.

Every weapon in sight was clearly far more advanced than anything we currently possessed. Taking the weapons could possibly help us gain an advantage over the Decepticons, which we were in desperate need of ever since they received an upgrade to their armor. But leaving the weapons here would allow the Decepticons to take possession of them once they managed to get the door open to this armory, and that would give them an even greater advantage over us.

That wouldn't do.

"We need to clear out this armory," I said to Jetfire. "We need every advantage we can get over the Decepticons, especially with their superior armor."

"That is what I was going to say," the seeker said, loading a magazine-shaped power crystal into the pistol had been examining before sub-spacing the other power crystals directly in front of him and walking to the weapons racks closest to the armory door. "I'll start over here, you start at the other end and we'll work our way back to each other." He gave Springer a look. "And you will start sub-spacing the heavy weapons. The ones you can actually pick up, at least."

I suppressed a chuckle as Springer scowled at Jetfire for his comment, before he finally gave up trying to pick up the missile launcher and moved to a different heavy weapon and started sub-spacing the power crystals for that weapon.

After Springer started sub-spacing ammunition, I turned and started walking to the opposite end of the armory from Jetfire. And once I had reached the other end of weapons racks, I began what would without a doubt be the long process of sub-spacing them all.

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><p>It took the three of us forty klicks to sub-space everything in the armory, since I was the only one who could even lift most of the heavy weapons. But we had done it. Every single item that we found in the armory was now stored in our sub-space pockets, not even one power crystal remained on the weapons racks.<p>

After making sure that we hadn't missed anything, we met up in the middle of the armory.

"So, where to now?" Springer asked, examining his new over-sized rifle he had decided to use instead of his chaingun. "Back out the way we came in?"

"That's our only option," I said, glancing at the outer door of the armory, where I could still hear the horde clawing at the door. "We came in here to take shelter and maybe find something to help us fight those crazed Cybertronians, and now we all have found something to help clear them out." I emphasized my statement by cocking my new shotgun.

"Let's get to the door, then." Jetfire said, deploying his Missile Rifle while holding his new pistol in the other servo. "No point is standing here when we still have artifacts of the Thirteen to recover."

Silently agreeing to Jetfire's words, Springer and I began walking to the outer door of the armory, with Jetfire following behind us.

After we reached the door, I stacked up on the side with the button to open the door, while Jetfire and Springer stacked up on the other side.

The horde renewed their attack on the outer door once we stacked up, almost as if they sensed our presence, and were eager for the battle that was about to come their way.

Jetfire put his pistol on his hip. "We go on 'one,'" he said, holding up three digits and looking for affirming nods from Jetfire and I. He continued after Springer and I nodded. "Three."

I shouldered my shotgun with one servo, and hovered my other servo over the button to open the door.

Jetfire folded a digit. "Two."

I saw Springer shift on his pedes slightly as we heard a faint screech from the horde.

Jetfire folded another digit. "One," he closed his servo into a fist. "Execute."

I slammed my fist into button, then placed my servo in its correct position on my shotgun and moved to run through the open door and out into the horde... Only the door remained closed.

The three of us stood in a confused silence for a brief moment before Springer looked at me. "You didn't hit the button, dumbaft," he said condescendingly.

I ignored Springer and looked at the button. I was certain I had hit it, but for some reason it hadn't worked, and I had no idea why.

I didn't get a chance to wonder why the button hadn't opened, because right after I had looked at it, the blue light from earlier reappeared in the form of an ark of electricity that looked like a bolt of lightning, similar to when it had bypassed the Servo Scanner.

The blue light moved through the air of its own accord, then transferred itself into one of the orange lights on the side of the armory wall, causing it to spark like it had in the hallway. The light transferred itself into another light further inside the armory, and another and another, until it was at the opposite side of the armory from us.

After the light traveled to the other side of the armory, it became an ark of electricity again, and then moved through the air until it touched the far end of the room and seemed to disappear into the wall. But, it reappeared again a moment later, this time in the form of a blue outline of a door that was clearly meant to stay hidden, since it would have been impossible to see without its edges being highlighted.

While keeping the door highlighted, the light became a bolt of electricity again, and it floated down and merged into the floor.

After a moment, a single line of pulsing blue light appeared on the floor that started at the base of our pedes, and lead to the outline of the second door.

"That's... Interesting," Jetfire said after the light revealed the hidden door, and started pulsing on the floor.

"Yeah, I'd say so." I said, blinking at the light's sudden appearance, and what was clearly its way of telling us to go a certain way. It was like it was sentient. "The light must have prevented the door from opening. And now it wants us to go that way." I added, looking down at the light beneath my pedes and following it until it met the bottom of the second door.

Springer scoffed and gave me a dull glare. "You're acting as if the light's an intelligent being, but it's just a light, dumbaft."

I was about to send Springer's insult back at him, but I didn't get the chance.

The light pulsed a darker shade of blue after Springer said it wasn't intelligent, and a bolt of electricity lashed out at Springer and hit him in the servo, causing the green Triple-Changer to shake his servo and let out a pained yell.

I smiled at Springer's misfortune. "I don't think the light likes you, Springer," I noted dryly. "Probably because you called it 'just a light,' when it's clear to me that the light is at least intelligent in some way. It wouldn't have been able to open the armory door for us if it was just a light."

The light pulsed a lighter brighter at my words, as if pleased someone took note that it wasn't just a light.

Jetfire looked at the pulsing light with curiosity in his optics. "Hmm," he shifted his attention over to me. "Interesting," he said.

I raised one of my optic ridges. "What?" I asked.

"Nothing," the seeker replied, dismissing my question as he started walking toward the door the light highlighted. "If the light wants us to follow a certain path, then let's not keep it waiting, shall we?" He asked over his shoulder-joint, not bothering to look back to see if Springer and I were following him.

I gave Jetfire's backplates a confused look as Springer moved to join the seeker. Just like with Optimus, it wasn't like Jetfire to avoid a question, so it was strange to see him do so. But I chose not to look into the matter. We didn't have the time anyway.

I mentally shrugged, shouldered my shotgun again, and walked after my fellow Autobots, and soon caught up to them because of my longer strides.

The three of us reached the second door in a short time. And once we got close to it, the blue light around the doorway sparked even more than the rest of the light did, which caused the door to short out and open without any of us having to search for a control panel, revealing a dimly light hallway that wasn't any taller or wider than the door.

After we stood in the doorway, I looked at the floor and saw that the light continued into the hallway, and that the light was leading us to the left.

"This should be interesting," I said, then stepped into the hallway and turned left, following the path the light wanted us to use.

Neither Jetfire nor Springer added or acknowledged my statement as they followed me, but I was positive they agreed with it as we silently followed the pulsing light on the floor.

The three of us failed to notice the hidden camera, just one in a network of hundreds of similar ones, in the corner of the armory, which had recorded everything we said, and sent the data to an off-site location through a secure FTL channel.

* * *

><p>We spent half a breem walking through the second hallway, following the pulses of the blue light.<p>

The hallway was obviously built into the wall of the station, since the hallway often turned in a different direction or became even more narrow than it already was, and that likely meant it was following the side of at least one larger hallway, possibly two.

I had no idea what the small hallway was built for, but since the light lead us to it, and it was keeping us from the horde, I didn't really care.

After rounding one of the many corners we had gone around since entering this hallway, we found ourselves standing in front of a wall, with no other corridors that we could use besides the one we had just used. We had hit a dead end.

It was quiet for a moment before Springer turned to me. "It leads us into a wall, and you said something about the light being intelligent?" He asked, somehow managing to make his statement sound condescending.

I didn't bother trying to reply, since I knew that it was only a matter of time before the light zapped Springer.

And sure enough, the light pulsed a darker shade of blue like it had earlier, and it zapped Springer with a bolt of electricity, which caused the green Triple-Changer to let out a yell and shake his servo like he did the last time he opened his mouth.

After zapping Springer, the bolt of electricity moved through the air and touched the wall in front of us, sending a shower of sparks down on us before the wall slid into the ceiling, revealing it to be a door leading into a large room that had far fewer lights than any other room we had been in on the station, making it dim enough that I had to enhance the light sensitivity of my optics.

I gave Springer an emotionless look after the light zapped him, and then opened the door. "You said something about the light not being intelligent?" I asked, sending his condescending statement right back to him with no small amount of internal smugness.

Before Springer could respond, I looked away from him and stepped through the door the light had opened, ignoring the glare I knew the green Triple-Changer was giving me.

After stepping into the room, I looked around. To our far left, I saw the outline of another door, though it clearly wasn't made to be hidden like the door we just stepped out of.

To our right, the ceiling, floor, and walls appeared to be made out of a slightly different material than the rest of the room. But other than that, there was nothing noteworthy about it.

Directly in front of us, where the blue light seemed to end in what appeared to be the center of the room, there was a floating sphere like the one we had seen earlier when we listened to Techlaser's logs. Going by that, it was most likely a computer.

Not bothering to waste any time with words, the three of us walked to where the light stopped in front of the floating sphere.

After we stepped near the sphere, a holographic keyboard appeared in front of us, while the blue light transferred itself from the floor and into the sphere itself.

_**"Password required."**_ The VI said, then went silent as quickly as it appeared.

I shared a look with Jetfire and Springer before looking at the keyboard. "Supercalifragilisticexpialid -ocious," I said as flatly as I could, knowing the VI was going to deny us entry anyway since we didn't know the password, which meant it didn't matter what we said, or the blue light was probably going to do something to overide the VI.

The keyboard flashed red. _**"Password: incorrect. Access: deni-"**_ The keyboard arced with blue light before flashing green, causing the VI to restart. _**"Password, 'Supercalifragilisticexpialid -ocious': acknowledged. Access: granted. Opening observatory windows."**_ With that, the VI fell silent.

After the VI went silent, the three of us shared a confused look, each of us likely asking ourselves the same question, 'What observatory?'

Before any of us could voice that question, however, the floor beyond the sphere split down the middle and started folding out to the side, revealing a glass, or at least what the Cybertronians that built this station considered glass, floor beneath the metal one. But I only had a moment to view the glass floor before the floor opened enough to let in a light that was bright enough to blind the three of us.

I brought one of my servo in front of my faceplate to block out the light, then I readjusted my optics to their normal setting. I didn't look at the light right away, since I could hear the floor was still moving. But once the sounds of the moving floor faded, I let my servo fall back down to my side and looked down at the light... Then proceeded to drop my shotgun at the awe-inspiring sight that greeted my vision.

In front of us, inside an immense cavern, was a ship... An incredible, colossal ship.

It dwarfed the Dark Matter, and made the Nemesis look like a bath toy. It stretched in either direction for as far as I could see, making it at least thirty kilometers long.

The vessel was shaped elegantly, at about one sixth as tall as it was long, and slightly less wide as it was tall.

A great 'Wing' protruded from the stern section of the ship, making it twice as wide as it was tall at that section, I assumed there was an identical wing on the other side. Four perfectly circular holes were visible on the only wing we could see, but no matter what I thought of, I couldn't figure out what they were there for.

But the wing and the ship's sheer size was but a footnote compared to the vessel's hull.

Its hull was pure white in color, though it seemed to change color ever so slightly when you looked at it at a different angle. Whatever material was used in the construction of the hull glowed incredibly bright, making it glow like the surface of a star, except it wasn't painful to look at, and every detail on the ship was still visible, unobscured by the glow of the hull. And covering every last area of the hull was a honey-comb of hexagon-shaped lights. And they were changing their luminosity from an even brighter white than the rest of the hull, to a shade of cobalt that was similar to the color of my optics, allowing them to be easily seen against the rest of the ship.

In all, the vessel in front of us was without a doubt the most beautifully crafted construct I had ever seen.

I had thought that the ship Ironhide, Elita, Chromia, Flareup, the twins, Smokescreen, and Jazz arrived in was aesthetically pleasing, but that ship paled in comparison to this one. It was like comparing the Mona Lisa to a mass-produced painting you might see in a chain restaurant.

The three of us stood there for a long moment, before an alarm blared throughout the room, and the few orange lights around us flashed red.

_**"Alert! Alert!"**_ The VI's voice said, sounding no different than it had the last time it spoke, despite the blaring alarm. _**"Foreign entity attempting to gain access to all systems! Attempting... To..."**_ The VI started to speak at a slower pace, as if it was losing power. **_"Purge... En... Ti... Ty..."_** With that last, slowly-spoken word, the VI's voice died away completely, and every single light, even the lights inside the cavern the ship occupied, went out without warning, as if someone, or something, had cut the power to the station.

The three of us were surrounded by darkness, with only the hull of the ship giving us any light.

The darkness didn't last long, however, since the lights flickered and returned to life, this time as a dull blue. The same color as the light that opened the armory and guided us here.

I didn't have any time to ponder that, because almost as soon as the lights came back on, a cobalt wall of transparent light shot out from the ship and entered observation room the three of us were standing in.

The wall of light moved over all three of us at the same time from the tops of our helms to the bottom of our pedes, giving me a mild tingling sensation as it passed over me, almost like one of Ratchet's medical scans.

After scanning us once, the wall of light moved upward and stopped at our chestplate level. Well, my chestplate level, it went well above Jetfire's helm, and it blinded Springer, going by how he cried out and covered his optics.

The light, for lack of a better term, shrank after it came to my chestplate level. It started out as wide as the room, but it soon shrank down to a beam of light that was no more than a foot wide. After shrinking down, the light focused on the center of my chestplates, directly over my spark.

The floating sphere in front of us sparked like the blue light would when it transferred itself into a different light. _**"Direct descendant of the Thirteen detected,"**_ the voice of the VI said, although it sounded... Off, like its voice was mixed in with a different one. _**"Activating Precursor Protocol."**_

A perplexed look formed on my faceplate. What the hell was the Precursor Protocol?

My question was never answered.

The light focusing on my chestplate shifted to the floating sphere, causing the sphere to glow cobalt and ark with bolts of electricity that steadily increased in size.

I saw Jetfire and Springer take several hurried steps back, clearly wanting to get as far away from the sphere as possible. But I when I tried to do the same, I found that I couldn't move my pedes, or anything else, in fact. It was like an invisible force was keeping me in place, forcing me to keep looking at the sphere.

The bolts of electricity increased in size and seemed to gather at one point on the sphere, like when you touched a Plasma Globe at a museum. And the point where it was gathering was right where I was looking.

I saw Jetfire notice how I was still standing in the same place out of my peripheral vision. "Shadowstreaker, move!" He said urgently, giving the stray bolt of electricity a nervous look.

I couldn't open my mouth to respond to Jetfire. And even if I did, it wouldn't have mattered, because the electricity seemed to finish gathering its strength, since the electricity started to ark more frequently, and the sphere started glowing far brighter than it had before.

The electricity increased the frequency of its arcs, up to the point that I couldn't even count how many times it arced every micro-klick. And then, it went dead, as if it had shut down because it was holding too much power.

For a moment, I thought it was over, but I was wrong.

The sphere glowed like the brightest star, then it shot a bolt of white electricity at me, which hit me in the chestplates directly over my spark.

My world went dark... And that's when things got strange.

* * *

><p><em>Images flashed before me.<em>

_Visions of lush, beautiful planets surrounded by space stations._

_Brief looks of the sentient beings that inhabited those planets and stations, some faintly looking like creatures I had seen in human works of fiction, and others that I had nothing to compare to._

_War._

_Memories of a sentient being's last moments on one of those planets, just before they were killed by an orbital bombardment._

_Footage of black ships that looked to be made of organic parts instead of metal, descending on the same worlds and turning them into a smoldering mass of nothingness._

_Flickering images of the sentient beings fiercely fighting back against unseen opponents, with Cybertronians falling from the sky and joining them in their fight with weapons that made every weapon I had seen before look like a cap gun._

_Detailed pictures and graphs of the weapons the Cybertronians were wielding, but so advanced and complex that I could not even begin to describe them._

_Flashes of a naval battle between an unfathomably massive fleet of ships lead by vessels that were shimmering as if they were made of white fire, and an equally large fleet of the black ships from before._

_A graphic vision of a great battle on the ground, where tens-of-thousands of missiles, energy beams, and Particle Cannons were firing every micro-klick, causing the deaths of thousands of organic sentients, and the offlinings of hundreds of Cybertronians fighting alongside them._

_An unclear image of several Cybertronians standing on a hill after the battle, overlooking the field in which the worst of the fighting took place. Each of them with visible damage to their armor, even though the image was fuzzy, but still standing tall, clearly proud of how they beat the enemy back._

_That fuzzy image was quickly replaced, and more images flashed before me, but they were changing so quickly that none of them were clear._

_The images abruptly stopped, darkness surrounded me and a voice spoke._

_**"And so the Xel'Tor has awoken..."** It said, sounding beyond ancient, and infinitely intelligent and infinitely condescending, like it felt it was speaking to something below filth. It sent a chill down my spine._

_Two purple optics pierced the darkness around me. They were filled with nothing but hatred and pure, unadulterated evil. **"It matters not what you, or those like you, do, Xel'Tor, for I am the Chaos Bringer... And you will know pain before you die."**_

_With those chilling words, conscious thought returned to me._

* * *

><p>My optics snapped open, and I found myself lying on my backplates, with the back of my helm was hurting, and Jetfire looking down at me.<p>

"Are you still with us, youngling?" The seeker asked, looking slightly concerned for some reason.

I nodded slightly. "Yeah, helm feels like slag, and I'm confused as hell, but I'm still here." I said, moving a servo to rub the back of my helm, only to stop and look at the servo when I saw that bolts of electricity were traveling along the length of it. I sat up and looked at the rest of my chassis, my entire frame had electricity traveling along it, all of it the same shade of blue as the light that guided us here. "Well, that's... Odd."

"When the bolt hit you, you fell straight onto your backplates," Jetfire said, starting to explain my unasked question while offering me a servo up, which I accepted. Oddly enough, the electricity traveling along my servo didn't touch Jetfire when he pulled me back on my pedes. "The electricity started transferring itself to you when you hit the floor. I don't have a clue what it was doing, all I know is that it started to dissipate a few micro-klicks ago. It will probably be completely gone within the next klick."

Confused by what Jetfire meant by 'Dissipate,' I looked down at my servo again and watched it for a few micro-klicks. The amount of electricity that was traveling along it was indeed rapidly decreasing, almost like it was being absorbed into my armor.

"I see," I said blankly, not sure how I felt about electricity traveling over my frame, and possibly being absorbed into my chassis.

Jetfire looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to answer a question, even though he had not asked one. "Well?" He finally asked. "Do you know what that was all about? Or are just as confused as we are?"

I didn't answer immediately, and instead looked at the sphere that had been building up electricity last I had seen it. Now it was just glowing blue, like the rest of the lights around us. "Not... Exactly," I said. "I saw something while I was out, something really bad, but nothing about it is clear. And just before I onlined, someone spoke to me, and it wasn't a good someone. They called me a 'Xel'Tor.'"

Springer, who was standing off to the left of Jetfire and I, gave me a perplexed look. "What the frag is a 'Xel'Tor?'" He asked, sounding genuinely confused. "Some kind of organic waste? Because that would be an accurate description of you."

I ignored the second part of Springer's statement and picked my shotgun, which was still where I had dropped it after seeing the ship for the first time, from the floor. "I don't know, all I know is that whoever spoke to me said that no matter what I did, I would know pain before I offlined." I couldn't help but shiver slightly as I recalled the words the being with purple optics said to me, his voice was just so... Evil. It was like the Devil himself was speaking to me.

Jetfire seemed to notice me shiver, and he gave me an appraising look for a moment before nodding, as he had come to a decision. "We'll put this aside for now, it sounds like a matter for Optimus, anyway," he said. "And we still need to find the relics of the Thirteen that Techlaser's logs mentioned, let's get back to searching for those so we can get out of this place."

_"I believe I can help with that,"_ a mech's voice said with a faint British accent, seeming to come from all around us, which caused the three of us to jump at its sudden appearance.

Springer pointed his over-sized rifle wildly. "Who said that?!" He asked, sounding almost panicked as he searched for the source of the voice.

In response to Springer's question, a hologram of a mech wearing armor that was constantly shifting position on his holographic frame materialized from the floating sphere. _"I did, I thought that was obvious."_ The hologram said in a voice that carried a tone of dry amusement.

I blinked at what was obviously an AI. "Who are you?"

The AI bowed its helm. _"I am the primary AI of the Sentinel-Class battleship, CNV Infinite Reverence. Artificially Intelligent Construct NTC 0452-9, at your service, Xel'Tor,"_ he said formally, then looked up at me. _"Although, just so you know, I prefer the name 'Refit,' over my official designation, sir."_

I scrunched my faceplate in confusion at how I was being called by that name the being with purple optics called me, as well as being referred to as 'Sir' by the AI of a ship that was older than time. "Why did you call me that?" I asked, tone giving away my confusion.

_"Call you what, sir?"_ Refit asked, his holographic armory shifting in such a way that I suspected it changed with his emotions.

"_That_, and the other name, 'Xel'Tor.' Why did you call me that?" I asked

My statement caused Refit's holographic faceplate to scrunch in confusion in almost the exact same way mine had. _"What? You don't know?"_ He asked in surprised tone, as if shocked I didn't know what the name meant.

I gave Jetfire a confused look, which he returned with one of his own, before I looked back at Keeper and shook my helm. "No, I don't. Why should I?"

The AI made a sound like he was choking. _"You honestly don't know?"_ He asked, then paused for a moment as I shook my helm. _"I... Wow, when I detected your presence here, I certainly I didn't expect this."_ He shook his holographic helm and sighed, as if getting prepared for a lengthy explanation. _"Well, you are the Xel'Tor, whic-"_ A high-pitched whine emitted from the sphere before Refit could continue, and a perplexed look crossed his holographic faceplate. _"Oh, that's... Unexpected."_

"What's unexpected, scrap for processors?" Springer asked, not even looking at the AI as he cycled the action on his over-sized rifle, likely out of boredom.

Refit's holographic optics narrowed and flashed a deeper shade of blue, and he looked over at Springer and raised one of his transparent servos. A bolt of electricity formed from one of the few lights in the room, and struck Springer in the servo, causing him to yelp and drop his rifle.

The green Triple-Changer glared at the AI after it zapped him, and Refit returned the glare with an innocent smile. _"What's wrong, greenie? Got oil on your digits?"_ The AI asked, clearly pleased with himself for how he handled Springer.

Jetfire sighed. "I am getting so tired of playing peace maker," I heard him say under his breath, then look between Springer and the AI. "For Primus' sake, don't start this, just answer the damn question... _Please_," he said in an exasperated tone, obviously fed up of the sparkling-like behavior of Springer... And likely me as well.

Refit immediately looked back at Jetfire and I and acted as if he hadn't done anything. _"Sorry about that. I am sensitive about jokes about my processing power, and will stand up for it when I need to,"_ he said, giving Springer a quick look as the green Triple-Changer picked his rifle off the floor. _"Anyway, back to what you wanted to know what the Xel'Tor is. Well, ah... It seems as though almost all information related to the Xel'Tor has been deleted from my matrix. Quite embarrassing, if I do say so myself, sir. I have had an entire universal-cycle to organize my data archives, and I manage to lose the most important information I possessed."_

Filing away the term 'Universal-cycle' for later, I took a step closer to the AI. "What do you mean it was deleted?" I asked. "How was the data even lost?"

The holographic pieces of Refit's armor shifted forward in what seemed to be concentration. _"It seems my data archives were remotely accessed during my last maintenance routine,"_ the AI replied. _"Other than the fact I know you are the Xel'Tor, it seems I know just as much about the matter as you do, sir."_

Jetfire let out a short, mildly amused chuckle. "Knew all this had something to do with you since Refit lit the path to this place," he said, giving me a meaningful look. "But, it looks like someone doesn't want you to know exactly what that means. And, to me, it sounds like that is someone who not only has access to technology that can hack through the firewalls of a Tier 0 ship, if Techlaser's log was accurate, but is someone you're familiar with."

I nodded slightly at Jetfire's words, having reached the same conclusion.

The Cybertronian race had a series of tiers in which we measured the technology of sentient races. It was almost exactly, to the point of being a little creepy, like the technology tiers I had read about on a website about Halo, except we had an eighth tier for civilizations that had absolutely no technology. And out of all the sentient races we knew of, not a single one even came close to our own technology at Tier 2. But, from what records we had of the Golden Age, it seemed like we once were a Tier 1 race, and from what Techlaser's logs said, at least the Thirteen had Tier 0 technology. So, that meant that someone from the Pocket Universe had hacked into Refit's data archives, and deleted everything related to the topic of 'Xel'Tor.'

I was going to have to have a talk with my carrier and sire the next time I was able to.

"We can wonder who deleted the information from Refit's data archives, and what their reasons for doing so, later, we need to find the relics of the Thirteen that were taken from the Infinite Reverence," I said to Jetfire, then looked at Refit. "Refit, the first thing you said to us was that you believed you could help us find the relics. Well, can you lead us to them?"

The AI gasped and had his holographic form take a step back as if struck by an unseen blow. _"Xel'Tor, you insult me. It is almost like you don't have faith in my abilities,"_ he said as a line of light similar to the one that lead us here appeared on the floor that lead to the door we hadn't used. _"If you follow that path, it will lead you to an elevator, which will take you down to a platform approximately three kilometers beneath your pedes. The artifacts that were stolen from the Infinite Reverence are being kept there."_

"Thanks for the help, Refit," Jetfire said, turning around and walking in the direction of the door while gesturing at Springer and I to follow him. "Let's get moving while we're still ahead of the Nemesis and the Decepticons."

_"I was not finished speaking,"_ Refit said, just before Springer and I went to follow Jetfire, while the seeker himself stopped and turned around.

"Well then, what else were you going to say?" Jetfire asked.

_"It has come to my attention that you are trapped in this section of the station. I know of a way for you to get out of this place."_ The AI said.

My raised both of my optic ridges. "How?" I asked curiously.

Refit's avatar smiled slightly and turned until the upper half of his holographic frame was looking out of the observatory window, directly at the Infinite Reverence, then gave me a look.

I immediately understood what the AI was suggesting. "You want us to take the ship," I said in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone, in awe of the concept of flying the massive vessel.

Refit nodded. _"Yes, I do. As the ship's AI, I can materialize defenses, both in the form of turrets and enforcer drones, within the inside of the ship, lock down any section of the vessel to prevent unwanted personnel from accessing sensitive systems, run real-time scans of everything the size of an atom that gets within a light-year radius of the ship, and summon worker drones to construct... Well, anything."_ He said with no small amount of pride. _"But I have programming blocks that prevent me from activating the engines of the Infinite Reverence, or powering up its main armaments. However, if those blocks were manually removed by the Xel'Tor, or if the Xel'Tor was piloting the ship... Then the enemy Tier 2 vessel you spoke of would literally would be reduced to nothing within an astro-klick."_

I didn't even think about my answer for a micro-klick. "Then after we recover the artifacts, get the three of us onto the ship so we can give you control, because I don't have a clue how to pilot something like that," I said, giving the Infinite Reverence another awe-inspired look before I turned and walked over to Jetfire and Springer, who had joined the seeker while I spoke to Refit.

_"Acknowledged, Xel'Tor."_ Refit said as Jetfire, Springer, and I stepped up to the door, his tone the AI suggesting was smiling happily. _"Let me get that for you, sir."_

The light on the floor that was guiding us became a bolt of electricity, and it transferred itself into the closed door in front of us, which caused the door to spark and then open, revealing a circular room with a crystal floor and a control panel with a pair of buttons on it. Obviously, this was the elevator Refit told us lead to the relics.

Springer looked back at the AI as the three of us stepped into the elevator. "If the elevator was so close, why did you even light up the floor?" He asked, giving the holographic avatar a confused look. "We would have found it anyway, since it's right here."

Refit smiled. _"It was to make sure you didn't get lost, greenie,"_ he said, sounding like he was totally serious when he was making fun of Springer. The AI looked at me. _"I will give you the official tour of the ship after you have returned the relics to the armory, Xel'Tor. I believe you will find its systems most satisfactory, sir."_ With that, he bowed his holographic helm slightly, and then had another bolt of electricity close the elevator door.

After the elevator door closed, Jetfire pushed the button to go down on the control panel, and the elevator began to move downward with barely a sound.

We didn't speak as the elevator traveled down, because we didn't have anything to talk about.

There was no point in wondering about the relics, since we knew what they were thanks to Techlaser's log.

Talking about the ship also would be pointless, since we would be inside it and on our way to Earth before long.

And discussing the name Refit called me was irrelevant, since only Optimus might have an inkling of an idea of what it could mean. So we just stood there in silence, waiting for the elevator to arrive at the platform Refit told us the artifacts were being kept.

After riding the elevator for about half a klick, the walls around us gave way to empty space. We were now inside the cavern.

Looking over the side of the elevator's crystal floor, I saw the platform where the artifacts were being kept, judging by how it was the only platform in sight, there was a crystal bridge leading to it, and that I could see four blue energy fields on it, each one containing a different object.

Now knowing where we would be going, I leaned back away from the edge of the elevator floor and went back to waiting for the elevator to get down to the platform's level.

Luckily, the elevator got down to the level of the platform within a few klicks, and it came to a halt at the bridge which lead to the platform.

Without exchanging words, the three of us stepped off the elevator and started walking toward the platform, which was around five-hundred meters away.

After completing the short, uneventful walk, we stepped onto the platform... And gawked at the artifacts for a few moments.

In the energy field to the far left, there was silver cylinder that was about ten feet long and a third as wide. I had never seen something like it before, but there was no doubt in my CPU that it was the data cylinder Techlaser's log mentioned.

Just to the right of the energy field on the far left, there was another energy field that contained a massive warhammer that was gold and silver in color, with blue jewels decorating the handle. The head of the hammer wasn't completely solid, instead it was split into countless parts that were always moving, almost like when we would transform, except far, _far_ more complex.

Clearly, the hammer was Solus' Forge, which she used to combat Unicron, as well as construct the other weapons of the Thirteen. I knew just from looking at it that it would be a formidable weapon and tool in Optimus' servo.

The energy field next to the one holding Solus' Forge contained a duel-pronged great sword, one that glowed without anyone wielding it. It was bright silver in color, and its handle was decorated with white and blue jewels that were shining like a fire burned in each of them.

I gave the great sword a second look. According to Techlaser's log, this sword was the Star Saber, Prima's weapon. But this great sword looked completely different from the one I had seen Prima wield against Liege Maximo. It was a good deal smaller, too. So, this sword wasn't the Star Saber, since it wasn't of the correct design and it wasn't large enough, except according to historical records it was, which was rather confusing to me.

I mentally shrugged and added a note to ask the Thirteen why there was more than one Star Saber, then looked at the final energy field.

It was holding the second sword Techlaser's log said they took from the Infinite Reverence's armory. It was simple in design, yet elegant and excellently crafted. Its blade was large, probably half again the size of one of my swords, and dark as the vastness of space, yet as glossy as water, and with an edge sharper than an Obsidian fragment, which gave it a dangerous look. And embedded into the handle of the sword, was a single jewel that glowed a faint crimson, which added onto the dangerous look its dark color already gave it.

Since this was the only remaining energy field, this sword was obviously the Omni Saber, my sire's blade. And what a blade it is. I was going to have to compliment Megatronus on his taste in swords the next time I spoke to him.

"Looks like the Thirteen had good taste in weaponry," Springer said, a trace of admiration in his voice as he looked at the Star Saber. "Makes me want one of these swords, only more awesome so it mirrors me."

Jetfire rolled his optics at the green Triple-Changer. "Springer, get over yourself and shut up," he said in a tired voice. "I have dealt with enough of your antics for a mega-cycle, let alone a solar-cycle."

Springer huffed in response and went to examine my carrier's Forge, while Jetfire started to search for a control to turn off the energy fields.

As Jetfire searched for the control for the energy fields, and Springer was... Well, Springer, I stepped closer to the field that held the Omni Saber.

It was so close it was like it was teasing me, like it wanted me to pick it up. And even though I couldn't touch it, it was almost like I could feel it in my servo, like I was using it in battle, the sword pulsing with power as I cut through Decepticons like a farmer cut through a field of Wheat. The feeling was so strong it was intoxicating.

But I quickly shook myself from the feeling. This was the weapon of a Prime, not of the average bot. I wouldn't be able to wield it, even if it was the weapon of my sire.

I turned away from the Omni Saber and started walking over to join Jetfire in his search for the control for the energy fields.

That was when the missiles hit.

They were Thunderstrokes, twenty foot long, gunship-mounted, precision air-burst missiles that traveled at exactly twice the speed of sound, which made them impossible to hear until it was too late. And there were three of them.

The first missile detonated above Springer, showering the green Triple-Changer with balls of molten metal, as well as a concentrated EMP burst, sending him to the floor before he even knew what was happening.

Missile number two detonated over Jetfire a split micro-klick later, giving him the same treatment as Springer, but the seeker reacted to the explosion of the first missile, and he managed to avoid some of the shrapnel. But it wasn't enough, for he too was sent to the floor.

Seeing the fate of my fellow Autobots, I dove to the side in an effort to avoid the Thunderstroke that was without a doubt heading for me. But I wasn't quick enough, because the last thing I heard before my audio receptors started ringing was an explosion. Incredible pain in my wings and backplates soon followed the sound of the explosion. I had been hit, and from how much of my backplates were in pain, I had actually dove_ into_ the missile instead of dodging it.

I was slow to recover from the missile, but recovering wasn't really the correct word to use. It was more like sucking it up, and hoping my auto-repair systems would be enough to keep me going.

After laying on the ground for a few micro-klicks, I slowly raised my helm to check on the others.

Neither of my fellow Autobots were moving, but judging by how they didn't have very many wounds, they were still alive. Forced into recharge by their frames as their auto-repair systems treated their injuries, but alive.

My hearing started to return, and as it did, I became aware of the sound of a gunship approaching. So, I laid my helm back down on the floor and stayed in the spot I had fallen, hoping to fool the Decepticons into thinking I was offline, or at least in the same state as my fellow Autobots.

After letting my helm fall to the floor, I saw the gunship pass above me before it hovered next to the bridge and a door on the side of its hull opened.

Once the door on the gunship opened, two large Decepticons holding modified Scatter-Blasters stepped out onto the bridge.

"Don't know why we couldn't just fight 'em," one of the Decepticons said as they walked toward the three of us. "It's no fun shooting 'em with missiles, it's over too quick."

"Don't complain," the other Decepticon said. "No one questions what Megatron orders, that's the fastest way to get yourself offlined. So just shut up and make sure the Autoscum are offline."

I tightened my grip on my shotgun as the Decepticons got closer. I needed to choose the right moment to attack. I was injured, and these Decepticons were taller than I was. I was going to have to make the fight short, and also not a fair one. And also take out that gunship so it wouldn't fly away and hit us with more missiles.

The Decepticons reached the platform and stepped over to Jetfire's unmoving frame. The first Con that had spoken lightly kicked Jetfire in the tank, causing the seeker to be roused from his forced recharge and let out a groan as his injuries from the Thunderstroke hit him fully.

"Looks like this one's still online," the Decepticon who kicked Jetfire said, then gave Jetfire another kick, this one hard enough to make the seeker groan louder than before. "How _tragic_, now we have to offline him manually."

The second Decepticon moved to the side of the first one, inadvertently turning his backplates to me. "That we do," he said, then cocked his Scatter-Blaster and pointed it at Jetfire.

It was at that moment that I acted.

As the Decepticon cocked his Scatter-Blaster, I pushed myself up from the floor, crouched, and pulled the trigger of my own shotgun. The recoil was positively brutal. It felt like Ironhide had just kicked me in the shoulder-joint. But the recoil was nothing compared to the damage the shotgun inflicted.

My shotgun had spate out a dozen orange pellets of energy, but in the very brief look I got of them, they were vastly different from the energy the weapons back at base fired.

The pellets impacted in the center of the Decepticon's backplates and dug into the armor of the Con before exploding, tearing his backplates apart, and undoubtedly offlining him before he even knew what happened. But before the Decepticon had even hit the floor, his frame started to turn into amber ashes, starting at where I had shot him, and not stopping until he had completely dissolved into a pile of ash.

I didn't pause to watch this process, since the other Decepticon aimed his Scatter-Blaster at me and fired three shots in rapid succession, but they were rushed, and most of the pellets went wide.

Ignoring the few pellets of energy that bounced off my armor, I shifted my aim and fired at the other Decepticon, hitting him directly in his chestplates and causing him to be reduced to amber ashes just like his comrade.

After offlining the second Decepticon, I stood from my crouch and checked on Jetfire. He was already back into a forced recharge, nothing I could do for him at the moment. And that was good, since I didn't really have time to treat his injuries with the gunship still active.

Stepping out onto the bridge, I deployed my missile launchers and targeted the engines of the gunship as it powered up and started to take off, the pilot clearly knowing what happened to the Decepticons that they dropped off.

Just as the gunship started flying away from the bridge, I fired all my remaining missiles at the engines of the gunship. Each missile found its mark, and they reduced the engines to scrap metal, sending the gunship spiraling out of control toward the bottom of the cavern far below.

I watched the gunship fall for several micro-klicks before I turned around and started walking back to the platform. That gunship and its crew were likely a scouting party, which meant a much larger force of Decepticons was on its way here, and they wouldn't be long. But hopefully, I would be able to treat my fellow Autobots and we would be able to get the artifacts and get onboard the Infinite Reverence before Decepticon reinforcements showed up.

I froze mid-step. There was a sound carrying through the air. A bad one, a jet engine. And it was coming from below me.

Looking over the side of the bridge, I saw that a Cybertronian in jet form had flown out of the gunship. A large, silver Cybertronian in jet form.

The jet flew straight up toward me, went right passed the bridge, then transformed in mid-air and fell back down on the bridge, landing in a crouch about one-hundred meters away from me.

The silver Cybertronian came out of his crouch and stood to his full sixty-foot height and rolled his spiked shoulder-joints.

Megatron had landed.

"I must say, you would make a fine Decepticon, Autobot," the Decepticon leader said, as if complimenting me. He made a gesture as if he was brushing dust off his servos. "Pretending to be offline, and then shooting your enemies when they turn their backplates to you? That is indeed a tactic I encourage among the Decepticons."

I said nothing in response. He was right in a way, the tactic I had employed was underhanded. But in war, there is no such thing as a fair fight. It didn't determine who fought with more honor, it only determined who was left. And I always did everything I could to make sure the ones who were left were my fellow Autobots and I.

Megatron chuckled lightly when I hadn't said anything to him. "What is it, Autobot? Are you scared of Lord Megatron?"

"Nope, just thinking of different ways to offline you quickly so I don't miss the NCIS marathon next cycle," I said with the bluntest voice I could muster. Truth was, I was scared. I was _terrified_, in fact. This was the _Megatron_, the one responsible for the current state of Cybertron. I couldn't even count the number of sentient beings he had killed.

And unlike the last time I had seen him in person... Optimus wasn't here to fight him.

It was just me.

The warmonger smiled and let out a loud, genuine laugh. "_You?_" He asked, still laughing slightly. "You are but a bug that will be crushed on my path to glory. And those relics will ensure that you Autobots are crushed even sooner than I thought." He looked behind me, at the artifacts of Prima and my creators, shifting his weight slightly so he could get a clear look at them. It was a pointless gesture, since he was fifteen feet taller than I was.

But it also left him vulnerable to attack.

As fast as I could, I raised my shotgun and fired three shots at Megatron, one at his helm, one at his chestplates, and one at his pedes, tripling the chances that the warmonger would be hit by the deadly orange pellets.

But it seemed that Megatron wasn't one for odds.

I have no idea how, but the Decepticon leader dodged every single pellet. He_ fragging dodged_ three hypersonic shots like it was nothing. And before I even fully realized what happened, a shot from Megatron's Fusion Cannon hit the barrel of my shotgun, melting half the weapon and sending it flying from my servos and over the side of the bridge.

Megatron smiled again and let his still-smoking Fusion Cannon fall to his side. "Was that all?" He mocked, slowly stepping toward me.

Quick as lightning, I deployed my Plasma Chaingun and aimed it at Megatron's pede, intending to at least throw off his balance so I could deploy a more powerful weapon.

The warmonger's servo was a blur as he raised his Fusion Cannon and causally shot off my Plasma Chaingun, sending waves of intense pain pulsing up my servo as a part of me was literally shot off, and my servo was forced to return to normal.

"This is it? _This_ is the best you can do?" Megatron asked, as if in exasperation as he continued to step closer to me. "The efficiency you showed in how you dispatched my troops promised at least amusement if I was to face you in battle, but this is just _sad_."

I deployed my Scatter-Blaster and aimed it at Megatron's faceplate, but it too was shot off before I could send the mental command to fire, leaving me with no weapons in my servos except my swords.

Megatron shook his helm as he reached me. "Now you are just embarrassing yourself. Stop now, while you still have a shred of dignity left."

'Frag you, you bastard,' I thought, deploying my swords and stabbing at the Decepticon leader's optics, knowing that I wasn't going to win this, but determined to at least scar the warmonger before I went down.

My swords cut through the air at speeds human eyes couldn't follow, getting closer and closer to the crimson optics of the Decepticon leader... Until he caught my swords with his servos, just a foot before they would have entered his optics.

There was a long moment in which it seemed like frozen, with me feeling dread as I knew what was going to happen next, while the warmonger just looked down at me as if to say, 'Are you done now?'

"Pathetic," Megatron said, then crushed my swords in his servos like twigs, and kicked me in the chestplates hard enough to end me crashing into the energy field that contained the Star Saber, which caused the field to flicker as I impacted it and fell to the floor.

I tried to get up, but Megatron's servo was wrapped around my throat and he was picking me up before I knew he had even moved from where he kicked me.

"You are in my way..." the Decepticon said, bringing his Fusion Cannon up against my tank, then smiled again, a cruel, twisted smile. "_Bug_," with that, he fired.

Extreme, burning, yet somehow cold, pain instantly spread throughout my frame, and I unwillingly went limp like a ragdoll. My frame was already shutting down to save power and energon.

Megatron huffed. "Weakling," he said with distaste, and tossed me away as if I were nothing but a piece of scrap metal.

I hit the floor and slid for several feet, eventually coming to a stop next to Jetfire's pedes, leaving a trail of energon wherever I touched the floor. I didn't need to look down to know there was a gaping hole in my tank, not like I could if I wanted to, and I knew that saying I was in trouble was a massive understatement. I also knew that this was an injury that would prove lethal if it wasn't treated. Now.

As I laid on the floor in agony, the warmonger stepped right up to the energy field that contained the Star Saber and punched his servo into the top of it and then pulled it out with a fist-full of wires, which were obviously important, since the field dropped almost as soon as he tore out the wires.

"And so glory is at my digits," I heard Megatron whisper to himself, slowly reaching out to grab the ancient great sword.

But just as Megatron's servo touched the Star Saber, it sparked once, then turned into dust. Just like that. One moment it was a sword that was without a doubt made of the best materials, probably Primax, and the next it was a pile of dust.

The warmonger stood there for a moment, as if he wasn't sure what to do, or was completely uncomprehending of what just happened.

"No..." Megatron whispered to himself again, voice almost sad as he looked down at the pile of dust at the base of his pedes. He turned to the Omni Saber, and after disabling the field like he had on the one around the Star Saber, he reached out to touch it, but it too crumbled to dust, reducing my sire's blade into nothing.

I watched, helpless, as Megatron stepped back from the pile of dust that was once my sire's sword, and disabled the energy field around my carrier's Forge, and then looked on as it was turned into dust, just like the other two artifacts.

After all three weapons turned into dust, Megatron stood completely still, as if he had turned into stone, before he let out a yell that echoed around the cavern twice. "_NO!_"

The warmonger's optics burned with fury, and he turned around and walked over to the last energy field, the one that held the data cylinder. But unlike the relics of Prima and my creators, the data cylinder didn't turn to dust when Megatron touched it, and he was easily able to pick it up, which caused him to grin.

"So, the cycle isn't a total loss, after all," he said to himself, looking at the data cylinder he held in his servo, then up at the Infinite Reverence, then down at me. "Before I put you out of your misery, Autobot, know this. Your leader's ideals are foolish, petty, even. And with the data inside this cylinder, alongside the technology we will gain from that vessel, the Autobots will be crushed." He pointed his Fusion Cannon at me, and it glowed as it powered up. "Goodbye, Autobot."

I stared up at the mech that was about to offline me with as much defiance as I could, not giving the warmonger the satisfaction of seeing the fear I felt.

Megatron's Fusion Cannon continued to power up, but just as it seemed to be at full power, the scream that sent chills down my spine echoed throughout the cavern.

The horde had found us.

Megatron looked up at something that was behind me as he powered his Fusion Cannon down. His gaze shifted to the left, then to the right, he was scanning. And from what I was able to see in his optics, he didn't like what he saw.

The warmonger looked down at the data cylinder in his servo for a moment before he sub-spaced it. "In light of recent events, I will leave you Autobots to your fate," he said, transforming into his jet form and hovering above me. "Goodbye, bug," without another word, Megatron activated his jets and flew away, with the sound of his engines echoing around the cavern before it completely faded away.

After Megatron flew away, I, with a monumental effort that doubled my pain, managed to roll over so I could see what caused Megatron to leave. I almost immediately wished I had stayed lying in the same position.

The wall of the cavern... Was literally_ covered_ with violet-opticed Cybertronians. And some of them were jumping off the wall and landing on the bridge, just in front of the elevator my fellow Autobots and I used to get down here.

I watched in mute horror as the violet-opticed Cybertronians that landed on the bridge turned and ran on all fours toward where my fellow Autobots and I laid helplessly on the floor, forced into recharge as our auto-repair systems treated our injuries, or in my case, sat there unmoving as my lifeforce leaked out of my frame.

The horde screamed again as they reached the half-way point on the bridge, though it was in a slightly higher pitch, like Hyenas laughing as they surrounded a helpless Zebra.

I continued to watch the horde approach with a blank look on my faceplate, too focused on a single thought to really care about the horde anymore.

I never got to tell Arcee how I felt.

The horde got within twenty meters of the platform, and the violet-opticed Cybertronian leapt at me like a Panther attacking its prey. But just as it was about to cross the last section of the bridge, it hit a white shield littered with hexagon-shaped patterns that definitely wasn't there a moment ago, sending the Cybertronian crashing back into the other members of the horde behind it.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw an odd-looking robot float into view, somehow projecting the shield out of a single 'Eye' on the front of it.

I would have examined what was clearly a drone in more detail, but my vision went dark for several micro-klicks before returning in a blurred state. I was on the verge of stasis lock.

A drone that looked exactly like the one projecting the shield hovered right in front of my faceplate, while dozens of other drones flew above it, working from what I could tell, but on what I had no idea.

_"You have my most sincere apologies, Xel'Tor,"_ the familiar voice of Refit said quietly, obviously using the drone as an avatar. _"I was unable to assist you as I should have. I cannot create defenses outside of the Infinite Reverence's hull. The only way I could help you was to funnel the infected ones to this location, in order to drive off the arrogant mech that calls himself a lord. And the infected ones are not ones to cooperate when the need arises."_

I tried to say something, anything, to the AI, but my mouth refused to move. And my vision started flickering between darkness and its normal state. I didn't have much time left before stasis lock set in.

_"But mark my words, sir."_ The AI continued when I hadn't said anything. _"You and your companions will return safely to the garden world you came from. I promise you."_ The drone hovered a little closer to my faceplate. _"Rest now, Xel'Tor, your frame is too badly damaged to sustain you at the moment. And the longer you remain online, the more difficult it will be to repair said damage."_

I couldn't have even mentally argued with the AI, since my frame chose that moment to force the shut-down of all my systems in order to preserve my life.

And then my world went black.

* * *

><p>Inside the computer systems of the Infinite Reverence, the countless yottabytes of data that made up the matrix of the AI known as Refit concentrated on one thing.<p>

Getting the Xel'Tor and his companions to safety.

The AI sorely wished he had been able to help the Xel'Tor sooner than he had, but the infected ones had proven to move far slower than he had anticipated, and he had run millions of calculations on their projected average speed. But they simply had no reason to move when a non-infected wasn't near.

It was sad to think the infected ones were once sentient bots, some of which were even bonded. They hadn't been authorized to access any of the systems they had been studying, but they were still sentient. And that alone made the AI feel a little sad.

Refit shook off his feelings on the matter. He had wasted approximately one, one trillionth of an astro-klick bringing up his data files on the Cybertronians that were now the infected ones.

That wouldn't do.

The AI was directly controlling one-hundred and thirteen worker drones in order to convert the platform the unauthorized Cybertronians had transported the weapons of his creators to into a makeshift escape pod. He would have space bridged the Xel'Tor and his companions onto one of the strike craft in one of the Infinite Reverence's aircraft hangers, but his programming blocks prevented him from space bridging any and all forms of matter onto the vessel without authorization from his creators, the current Prime, or the Xel'Tor.

And since his creators had left this reality long ago, and the sensors of the ship detected the current Prime on the nearby garden world only had a ground-based alternate form, and the Xel'Tor was now in stasis lock, he couldn't bring the Xel'Tor and his companions onboard the Infinite Reverence. As much as it frustrated the AI, a makeshift escape pod would have to do.

The makeshift escape pod Refit was converting the platform into was completed approximately one klick after the Xel'Tor fell into stasis lock.

_"I am getting rusty,"_ the AI said to himself, only voicing the thought inside his matrix. Back in the Age of the Primes, Refit could have used half as many worker drones to construct a three kilometer corvette from literally nothing in one quarter of the time it took him to convert the platform into an escape pod. Perhaps he would assign one of the lesser AIs to guard the ship during his next maintenance routine, he was in need of a defragging.

Refit mentally scolded himself for losing his focus for another one, one trillionth of an astro-klick and maneuvered the worker drones he was controlling to fly underneath the completed makeshift escape pod, and moving it toward the tunnel located at the top of the cavern the Infinite Reverence was currently inside.

The unauthorized Cybertronians had made many tunnels during their stay on the asteroid, the tunnel he detected the Xel'Tor and his companions using to gain access to the station was merely the widest. It was the one they used to transport raw materials down into the station to be used in construction, as well as the primitive tanks they had used to try and forcibly gain access to certain areas of the Infinite Reverence. They never succeeded.

The tunnel he was moving the makeshift escape pod to was the first the unauthorized Cybertronians had made, the one they began work on when they first detected the vessel of his creators all those centi-vorns ago. It was the longest tunnel on the asteroid, but it was the most direct exit rout available to Refit, and the Xel'Tor was in critical condition, he needed the most direct path back to the current Prime.

Besides, Refit had run billions of simulations, and the tunnel he was moving the makeshift escape pod to would allow him to send it off with the greatest possible starting velocity with the least amount of effort. He always prided himself on his efficiency.

The worker drones the AI was controlling reached the tunnel at the top at the cavern, and Refit pushed their repulsor engines beyond maximum power. It would inevitably burn out the power sources of the worker drones, but the AI did not care. They were non-sentient worker drones that he had built from matter the vessel had created, they were nothing that Refit couldn't replace in a micro-klick.

It was exactly fifteen micro-klicks before the worker drones reached the surface of the asteroid and he sent the command that would activate the engine he installed on the makeshift escape pod. He saw through the optics of the worker drones as the pod carrying the Xel'Tor and his companions instantly rocketed away at twenty times its previous speed.

The pod left the worker drones far behind as the pod headed straight for where Refit detected the current Prime in roughly the middle of the third largest continent on the garden world, where it would impact in exactly half a breem, according to the AI's calculations. And his calculations were never wrong.

Seeing that his work was done, Refit released control of the worker drones and sent them a command to decommission themselves, causing the drones to dissolve and be reduced to nothing in a micro-klick, preventing any chance of these new unauthorized Cybertronians from gaining access to the technology of his creators.

As Refit returned to scanning the systems of the Infinite Reverence and monitoring the progress of the new unauthorized Cybertronians, he couldn't help but feel slightly sad, since he was again alone without the Xel'Tor or his companions, even if the green one was an aft. He hoped they would be able to return at some point.

But until then, he would guard this vessel, and make sure the unauthorized Cybertronians weren't able to study the technology of his creators.

* * *

><p><strong>(Human calendar) March 30, 2013 5:57 P.M<strong>

**(Cybertronian date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since the end of the Golden Age)**

**Decepticon War Cruiser Nemesis, currently landed on surface of asteroid containing technology of the Thirteen**

Megatron walked to his quarters with a purpose. He had just returned to the Nemesis after leaving the three Autobots to their fate. And he wasn't going to wait another micro-klick to see what was inside the data cylinder he had recovered.

The warmonger reached the door to his quarters and typed in the password on the control panel. After the door to his quarters opened, Megatron stepped inside, closed the door again, and made a beeline for his personal terminal, where he would be able to access the data cylinder.

When he reached his computer, Megatron connected the data cylinder to a port on the side of the terminal that would synch the data cylinder to the terminal, which in turn would allow it to download the information stored on the cylinder.

'If there's any information on it at all, you didn't run a scan before you took that cylinder and that wasn't wise because-'

'Shut. Up.' Megatron thought at the second voice that had taken residence in his helm, which the warmonger had since started to call The Scientist.

The Scientist obeyed Megatron's thought, and it fell silent, but a new voice spoke almost as soon as The Scientist fell silent.

'Lab mech is right, you know. Probably would have been a good idea to scan it _before_ you let it into the computer systems of the Nemesis, no telling what's inside it.' This third voice sounded far deeper than the Scientist, and also more gruff, like one of the gladiators back in the pits of Kaon.

'Leave my helm. Now,' Megatron mentally hissed as the data of the cylinder appeared on screen, albeit in an encrypted form. He would have to run a decryption program.

'Nah, I think I'll stay, see how this goes. It could be entertaining,' the new voice said dismissively.

The warmonger ignored the voice and started running a program that would decrypt the information inside the data cylinder, a process that would likely take several breems, considering the amount of data Megatron saw on the screen.

After running the program, the Decepticon leader turned away from his terminal and started walking to his desk, where Soundwave had, just like every mega-cycle, left a neat stack of data pads that contained progress reports from each project Megatron was running.

Megatron didn't get the chance to take three steps before his terminal beeped, signaling the completion of the decryption program he just started.

Turning back to the terminal screen with the closest thing to confusion he would allow to cross his faceplate, Megatron stepped up to the terminal and typed in a command that would cause the computer to display the newly decrypted data.

The terminal's screen changed, and the link for a single data file appeared.

Megatron opened the file.

It was a formula. A formula for a type of modified energon. But, there was something wrong, the formula seemed... Familiar. From what the Decepticon leader could tell, the formula modified the chemical composition of normal energon and made it burn faster inside a Cybertronian's frame. It wouldn't make the Cybertronian overcharged or overclock their systems, but it would give them a burst of energy and also improve their focus, but it could also cause them to crave it, need it, become chemically addicted to it.

The warmonger knew he had heard of something similar to the formula he was looking at, but he couldn't place it among any of the formulas he had seen on Cybertron.

In desperation, Megatron accessed the human internet and searched with the keyword of, 'Energy beverages.'

A number of links to webpages appeared in Megatron's CPU. He searched through them all, but the human drinks described on the different webpages didn't fit with what he was looking at. That is, until he saw a link to another human beverage while he was searching on a website called 'Wikipedia.'

The warmonger opened the link, and immediately saw some similarities between the human beverage and the energon formula. But he read every word on the webpage four times just to be sure, then he looked at the formula again after thoroughly examining the webpage. It was a perfect match.

'Knew this was going to be entertaining.'

Megatron's optic twitched at the words of the new voice, and he screamed in frustration and threw the terminal off his desk.

For he had discovered the formula for energon coffee.

* * *

><p><strong>March 30, 2013 9:11 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

Arcee had been on patrol when Jetfire, Springer, and Shadowstreaker left Earth's atmosphere, on their way to investigate an asteroid that contained unknown Cybertronian technology, which Ratchet had since determined was created by the Thirteen.

She had returned from that patrol breems ago, roughly at the same time Shadow' and the others landed on the asteroid, according to Ratchet. And since she got back, she had spent most of her time with her sister since they still had a lot of catching up to do, one didn't make up for thousands of centi-vorns of separation from family in just a few jours, after all.

But, when Moonracer and Ratchet detected the life signals of Shadow' and the others on an unknown craft rocketing toward Earth, and that all their life signals were weak, Arcee had dropped what she had been doing and immediately volunteered to help recover the craft once it landed. Optimus, for reasons that she didn't know at the time, refused to allow her to be on the team that would recover the craft.

Arcee had been far from pleased by that. Shadow' was her best friend and partner, she had a right to be on the team that would bring him and the others back to base if they were in fact injured. Just like Shadow' would have had a right to go on the team that would have brought her back to base if she was injured.

However, the Prime had been firm in his order, and he had taken Ratchet and Moonracer with him to the coordinates where, according to Moonracer's calculations, the craft would land, which had been only fifty kilometers away from their base.

Arcee had paced in front of the ground bridge, ignoring the confused looks she had gotten from a few other Bots, until they had returned half a breem later, which, at the time, Arcee had found to be an unusually long period of time to bring three Bots back to base. But when Jazz had opened the ground bridge when Optimus finally requested one, the reason they had taken so long had been clear.

Moonracer had been supporting Jetfire, since the old seeker had clearly seen better cycles, with visible shrapnel damage to the majority of his frame. And the damage had apparently been worse, since Arcee had learned since then that Jetfire had been in a forced recharge when they reached the craft.

Ratchet had been helping Springer walk through the ground bridge, the green Triple-Changer in a similar state as Jetfire. Arcee didn't personally give a damn, but Springer had also been in a forced recharge when the others got to the craft.

But almost all her focus had been on Optimus when all her fellow Autobots had returned to base.

The Prime had been carrying her partner through the bridge, because Shadow' had been in no condition to walk. His armor was damaged like Jetfire and Springer's had been, not to the same degree since his armor was so much stronger, but the damage was still clearly visible. On his tank, there was a gaping hole. It had been covered with a patch, but Arcee had been able to see it without any problem. And his royal cobalt optics were open, but they were dark and unseeing, almost as if he had powered his optics down while he was in a trance.

Her fellow Autobot, her brother in arms, her best friend, her partner, was in stasis lock.

Arcee's CPU had gone blank when she saw Shadow's condition, and she was so detached to what was going on that she hadn't even tried to follow when Ratchet handed Springer off to Bulkhead and barked at Optimus to get Shadow' to the med-bay, with Moonracer following after she had handed Jetfire off to Jazz.

Her sisters had brought her out of her stupor after Optimus carried Shadow' to the med-bay for emergency repairs. And they had helped Arcee keep her CPU from worrying about her partner by telling her stories she hadn't heard before, some embarrassing, some entertaining, and others simply funny.

But after a couple breems of talking with her sisters, Arcee felt like it was time to check on her partner, so she asked to take her leave. Elita and Chromia had understood and hadn't tried to keep Arcee from checking on Shadow', Chromia had even managed to say something suggestive about her and Shadow', which was something her sister had done periodically ever since she figured out that she liked him back when she first arrived on Earth. Arcee had walked out of the room without acknowledging Chromia's statement.

And that was how Arcee came to be in her current situation, standing in front of the med-bay door, silently battling with her emotions as she tried to get herself to open the door, which she had been trying to do for the last twenty klicks.

The condition Shadow' had been brought back to base in was... _Far_ too familiar. It had brought flashbacks of seeing Tailgate being dragged across the floor by a pair of Decepticons, looking like he had already been offline. It also brought back memories of seeing the twisted form of Cliffjumper, so disfigured that his frame was barely recognizable.

'Three partners... Three mentally scaring moments in my life,' Arcee thought with a stoic look on her faceplate, but internally she was a torrent of emotions.

Her brother and sisters sensed her inner turmoil, and they sent her calming emotions through the bonds they shared, which Arcee return with feelings of gratitude.

The comfort of her siblings helped Arcee finally come to a decision, and after taking a deep breath that her frame didn't actually need, she pressed the button on the control panel to open the door and stepped into the med-bay once the door opened.

Ratchet was standing at the computer, with the Delphic floating on one side of him, and the three piles of dust they had recovered from the craft that they hadn't identified. He was staring at the life signs being displayed of the med-bay's three current patients, watching for any anomaly, as well as looking at a series of readings she couldn't identify, likely another test he was running on the Delphic.

Springer was lying on a medical berth in the far left corner, looking far from pleased at his presence in the med-bay. His injuries were moderately severe, and he was going to spend at least a mega-cycle in the med-bay. Had he been _anyone_ else, Arcee would have felt sorry for him, but since he was Springer, she couldn't care less.

Jetfire was resting on a medical berth on the right side of the med-bay, just behind where Ratchet stood at the computer. And he would remain there for at least the next two solar-cycles. His injuries hadn't been as severe as Springer's, but still serious enough to warrant a couple of cycles in the med-bay, then several cycles of no heavy lifting or training after getting out.

Her partner was lying on the berth closest to the door, the one that had taken the least amount of time for Optimus to put him on. He didn't look even close to as bad as he had looked when the Prime carried him in.

His armor had been cleaned and repaired, it almost looked like he had just stepped out of the washrack. And the only evidence there was ever a gaping hole in his tank were the fresh welds Arcee could see around his tank area. But his optics were still dark. They were closed now, but Arcee knew they were still dark. After all, even in recharge, a Cybertronian's optics would move subtly, much like a human's eyes when they were sleeping. But Shadow's optics weren't moving, a clear sign of a bot in stasis lock.

Arcee pulled a chair next to the berth and sat down. For a long moment, she just sat there, staring at the unmoving form of the mech she had come to realize she loved.

Of course, she hadn't realized she loved Shadow' until after he had given her his Revolutionary War musket for a creation day present. And that in turn was only a little over a jour since she first realized she liked him.

'And to think, I've only known him for a little over an orbital-cycle, and he's already wormed his way into my spark, more so than any other mech I've met.' Arcee thought with a small smile on her faceplate, though it was a sad one since the mech she was thinking of was in stasis lock.

Arcee let the smile fall from her faceplate and scooted her chair closer to Shadow's medical berth. She reached out and took hold of Shadow's larger servo in a firm, yet gentle, grip. His servo didn't move, on account that he was in stasis, but Arcee didn't care.

'Come back, Shadow', there are bots here that need you around, me in particular,' Arcee thought, letting her helm partially rest on Shadow's medical berth and staring at her servo as it rested in his, as if willing it to move and him to wake from stasis lock.

She stayed in that position all night.

* * *

><p><strong>(Local date) Unknown (Has not developed calendar)<strong>

**(Cybertronian date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since the end of the Golden Age)**

**Unknown planet in the NGC 3109 galaxy (Unofficially named)**

Inside a large, spartan room, which in turn was inside an immense complex made out of golden alloy, a pair of ruby red optics belonging to a pure white mech scanned more than thirty holographic displays from where the mech sat in a chair held up by a gravity field.

At sixty-six feet in height, the mech taller than most mechs that hadn't had their frames modified, or had their sparks transferred into a chassis that was built for war. His faceplate was blank, set in the neutral expression he always kept on his faceplate. There were no visible weapons on his massive frame, but that did not mean he did not have any. Very few mechs had fought him and lived, and most of them ended up joining him after their battle.

The mech raised his servo toward an energon dispencer, which had just finished filling his cube with high-grade, and the air between his outstretched servo and the dispencer became distorted, almost as if the air was being heated up. After the mech raised his servo, his cube of high-grade silently flew into his outstretched servo, and the mech took a small sip of the delightful liquid.

A quiet beep from far behind the mech interrupted him from taking another sip. It was an alarm he installed when someone requested to enter his sanctuary.

"Enter," the mech said to the empty air, his voice impossibly deep and far more mechanical than the voices of other Cybertronians.

After speaking, the mech heard the door open quietly, then heard each step of the Cybertronian that entered his sanctuary and walked toward him. Another mech appeared in his peripheral vision. It was Praxis, his first lieutenant.

"Sir, there is a matter that requires your attention." Praxis said in his usual tone that was devoid of emotion.

The mech turned away from his holographic displays slightly. "What is it?"

"Station A4-D718 just transmitted a positive sighting." Praxis replied.

The mech froze, and that was something he very rarely did. He always was a step ahead, always had a plan, always was in control of the situation. To have him even pause would take something monumentally shocking, and this piece of news certainly was shocking.

Station A4-D718 had been ejected from this solar system more than five-thousand centi-vorns ago, less than a vorn after the mech first established his organization on this world. The station had been built into an asteroid in the system, one that formed around a ship created by the Ancients.

The previous Reclamation Division had advanced their technology substantially by studying that vessel. His organization's use of power crystals would not have been possible without the study of the Ancient ship. But unfortunately, the Warrior project had compromised the station, and the mech had been forced to order Techlaser to send the asteroid through an unstable sub-space rupture, sending the asteroid to an unknown location. However, the security systems on the station had remained operational, and the mech had them shut down to save power, but not before he programmed them to activate if the Xel'Tor was detected, and then send the footage back to this planet.

"How long has it been since we received the transmission?" The mech asked, quickly regaining his composer.

"Five klicks ago, sir." Praxis answered.

"Show me the footage," the mech ordered, folding his right pede over his left and taking a sip of his high-grade.

Praxis pressed a button on the side of his servo, and a 3-D hologram appeared in front of the mech, between him and his displays. The hologram was split up into pictures from dozens of different angles from a number of different cameras. The focus of each picture was the same.

A large black mech, with dark blue optics, and a silver mark on either side of his helm that identified him as a direct descendant of Solus Prime. But that mark also identified him as something else when it was flipped over. It identified him as the Xel'Tor.

The mech looked at the mech in the picture, then out the window in his sanctuary, where an Ancient complex covered with silver and gold symbols filled most of his view. It was a place where nearly all of the systems required a Prime to activate them, that or the Xel'Tor. And it was where the greatest concentration of Tier 0 technology was located on this world.

The mech looked back at the hologram. "Where was the station when it transmitted this?"

Praxis pressed a different button on the side of his servo, and the images of the black mech changed to the image of what the mech recognized as the Milky Way galaxy, the second most massive galaxy in this group of galaxies, and home to colossal energon deposits. Praxis highlighted a small solar system located about two thirds along one of the smaller galactic arms.

"This is where it transmitted, sir," Praxis said. "We are uncertain what the name of the system is, but we believe it is inhabited by a Tier 4 race of organics, and that both the Autobots and the Decepticons are using the race's home world as an outpost."

The mech internally sighed at the mention of the two warring factions of Cybertronians, their presence could possibly complicate matters. But the presence of the Xel'Tor in that system overrode his worries about the Autobots and Decepticons.

"Contact Jhiaxus, and tell him to travel to this system and recover the Xel'Tor and bring him here," the mech said after a moment. "_Alive_," he quickly added, knowing that while Jhiaxus was a fine military officer, he tended to get carried away when on operations, and also liked to bend the orders the mech gave him.

"Acknowledged, sir." Praxis said, then bowed and turned around to walk out of the mech's sanctuary.

"And, Praxis," the mech called, causing his lieutenant to come to a halt. "I want you to go along and make sure Jhiaxus follows my orders, but do nothing except observe, leave him in command."

"As you wish, Extremis," Praxis said, then resumed his walk to the door and closed it once he had left the room.

After his lieutenant left his sanctuary, the mech known as Extremis looked back out at the Ancient complex. With the Xel'Tor's arrival, things were starting to be set in motion that he would not be able to control. Things that would spell the awakening of the Chaos Bringer, the doom of everything. And they needed every scrap of Ancient technology to help them once he awoke.

"So it begins," Extremis said to himself quietly, not taking his optics off the symbol on that was displayed proudly on the front of the Ancient complex.

The same symbol that was on the black mech's helm.

* * *

><p><strong>You are confused, are you not? Hehe.<strong>

**And you will remain confused for a while, because while I now have my motivation back to write this, I need to collect my thoughts for a while, make sure what I want to write fits. You know, stuff like that. So, the next chapter will not be this month, and I don't know when it will be, but I know Fate Calls won't be on hold anymore.  
><strong>

**This chapter has two credit songs, since my muse wanted their to be two songs.  
><strong>

**Credit song number one "Les Friction - Come Back To Me" In my opinion, this song fits perfectly with the scene with Arcee, it is simply perfect.  
><strong>

**Credit song number two. "Thousand Foot Krutch - Courtesy Call" Again, in my opinion, this song fits with the very end of the chapter, which is probably the source of a lot of your confusion.  
><strong>

**So, please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I will see you soon, now that I have my motivation back. *Still knows anyone who reads this for the first time will be confused.*  
><strong>


	28. Dreams

**Well, my _one_ week vacation from writing turned into one that was closer to three weeks. So yeah, sorry I took longer than expected to finish this one.**

**So, let's see, what's new with me? I got the final multiplayer DLC for Mass Effect 3, and beat Platinum multiple times purely because myself and two of my friends that play it a lot got the Geth Juggernaut in our Gift Pack from Bioware. I am still working on getting the final DLC for Mass Effect 3 in general, Citadel, but I don't want to spend money right now so yeah. I might be getting a part-time job soon, which would be really good since I have no money. Lol. And I have decided that I am going to write my own series of original sci-fi novels... Just need the story, the characters, the setting, the knowledge to explain the advanced technology I have in mind in a scientific manner, ideas in general, and a willing publisher... So I am almost done. Lol.  
><strong>

**On a more serious topic, I would like to apologize to all of you. I have gone back and looked at my replies to reviews, and I found that a number of them could easily be misunderstood. You see, I have a very dry sense of humor, and I use it in my replies to those of you that review, but it is easy for me to forget that text doesn't carry a tone of voice, especially a dry one. So, to all of you that I may have accidentally insulted, made fun of, offended, etc., I am sorry. I am truly sorry that I came off in a bad way. I did not mean to come off like that, it is how I would talk in real life, but if you could hear the way I said those things, you would see that I was not being serious, it was my humor at work, as I said. So again I am sorry if I did anything to hurt any of you. I hope that you forgive me.  
><strong>

**And to those that reviewed, I thank you. You help inspire me to write, and I always love feedback on my writing. Thank you all. :)  
><strong>

**Oh, and before I forget to say this, Fate Calls is now over 20,000 hits! Thank you, my readers! :D**

**Oh! And before I forget *again* Fox of Magic, if you are still reading this, remember when you said that you spotted some foreshadowing way back in chapter 18? And I said that it wasn't foreshadowing? Well, it was. Lol. You totally called it right off the bat, I planned on having something bad happen to Shadowstreaker *see chapter 27* when I was writing that, I just said that it wasn't foreshadowing to throw you off the trail. Lol.**

**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**xDaughterOfKingsx - *Ignores what you said due to it not being relevant to what has happened since* Now that I know that you are very confused by my last chapter, I must say, hehe. :P You will be confused for a while, there are a lot of plot elements that are coming into play.**

**Abyss Prime - I did take some time off, and the situation/rough spot has now been resolved, so were correct in saying that good things happen to those who wait. Thank you for saying that.**

**Crystal Prime - And here I thought I had you there *snaps fingers* Lol. Hopefully the explanation will live up to your curiosity. :)**

**KayleeChiara - To quote one of the credit songs from my last chapter, "When we get started, man we ain't gonna stop, we're gonna turn it up until it gets too hot." There are a lot of plot elements that are coming into play now, and they are coming quickly. The events of last chapter are only the tip of the iceburg. MWAHAHAHAHA! *coughs* Hmm, I will have to work on that laugh.**

**That did come out as a compliment, all of them did, it means that I did something write last chapter. Hopefully I did the same with this one. Lol.**

**And I thank you for thinking my changes to the Prime-verse are amazing, I hope you continue to think so as I continue writing this, slowly *very slowly, I might add lol* getting to the end. :)**

**And you are welcome! **

**Autobot Shadowstalker - She actually realized her feelings back in the chapter where the Autobots recovered the Delphic, but I get your point. Haha. *Looks at the time of his last update* Didn't do a good job of that, huh?  
><strong>

**Sky's Limit5 - I am glad that you think so, and I hope you enjoy this chapter, as well. :)**

**Guest - I am glad.**

**nic - *Shrugs* To each their own. I personally love novels that go into a lot of detail, let's me paint a picture in my head about what's going on in the book. And Fate Calls is in an episode formate, AKA lots of fill-in chapters that don't carry over, and also time-skips, and then a number of chapters that tie together, so that might be the source of some of your confusion.**

**Musical Prime - *Gives you a punching bag* I will leave that to your own interpretation. Lol. But be patient, I have a plan.**

******Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.******

* * *

><p><strong>April 13, 2013 4:25 A.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

Ratchet stepped out of the quarters he shared with Moonracer and started walking toward the med-bay without looking up from the data pad in his servo.

He wasn't usually one to online this early in the cycle, but when he had a patient in his med-bay that was in stasis lock, he always made sure to be present in the med-bay as much as possible. The fact that his latest test on the Delphic had finished while he was in recharge may or may not have also had something to do with why he was onlining this early.

Even in her recharge, Ratchet could feel that the femme who became his sparkmate last mega-cycle was getting very annoyed at his numerous tests, constant thoughts of different tests, and late nights and early mornings of studying the Delphic. After all, he and Moonracer had known each other for centi-vorns, and had only truly found each other last mega-cycle, all his sparkmate wanted was to spend time with him after being without him for so long.

And he couldn't deny the fact that that was what he wanted as well. But he was close to figuring out what the Delphic had been keeping from them since they found it. And when his scientific curiosity was piqued, even he couldn't stop himself from working until he had figured out the mystery. He would make it up to his sparkmate after he finally knew what the Delphic was hiding, and his curiosity was satisfied.

Knowing he had taken the amount of steps it took him to reach the med-bay, Ratchet looked up from his data pad and entered the password to open the locked door before he stepped inside the med-bay. He sighed at the sight that greeted him.

Arcee had ignored his order to rest in her quarters, and was recharging in her chair next to Shadowstreaker's medical berth. Again. She had barely left his side since he returned from the asteroid two mega-cycles ago in stasis lock, leaving Bumblebee to bring Jack to the human academy. She, against Ratchet's orders, hadn't even left to visit the washracks. All she had done in the last two mega-cycles was sit in that chair. Although, technically speaking, she wasn't in the chair, since from the tank up she was lying on the berth while keeping a grip on one of Shadowstreaker's servos. It didn't look like the most comfortable position in which to recharge, and she would most certainly be in some moderate pain when she onlined.

'Not that she cares,' Ratchet thought, a ghost of a smile crossing his faceplate for a moment. He might have been oblivious to Moonracer's feelings for him until he finally told her about his own feelings for her, but he knew how a mech and femme acted when they loved each other. And those two were in love, likely unaware how the other felt, but definitely in love.

And that was a little surprising to Ratchet, given how Arcee had mostly closed herself off to romantic feelings since Tailgate was offlined in front of her, and had only showed an interest in Cliffjumper several vorns after they became partners. But Shadowstreaker had only been here for about fifteen jours. And that was an unusually short amount of time for Cybertronians to even develop an attraction to one other, let alone love each other. Maybe it had something to do with the slightly abnormal spark readings he detected in his last medical checkup of Shadowstreaker, and similar readings Moonracer told him that she detected during her checkup of Arcee.

Ratchet shook his helm and stepped over to the computer, side-stepping the Delphic as he did so. The small mystery of how Arcee and Shadowstreaker came to love each other so quickly, and without knowing how the other felt, was a matter for another time. He had a Delphic to study.

After reaching the computer, Ratchet brought it out of sleep mode and examined the readings on screen. He raised his optic ridges at the first thing he saw.

The previous night, he and his mate had managed to crack open one of the Delphic-type power crystals Shadowstreaker, Jetfire, and Springer had recovered from the station's armory and found the power crystal to be filled with an unknown liquid in a semi-solid state. And before he had gone to get some recharge, he had started to run a chemical analysis of the liquid to see if it could be replicated.

That analysis was now complete. And according to the results Ratchet was looking at, the liquid was in fact known to him. It was Nucleon, an incredibly unstable, but equally powerful, element that was abundant on Cybertron and its moons. It had, at one point, been considered to be a miracle fuel that would solve the energon crisis that was partially responsible for the war. Shortly after it started to be shipped in liquid form, however, a large number of Cybertronians suffered serious side effects from consuming Nucleon, with many of them ending up with permanent damage. Nucleon was immediately abandoned as a potential fuel source after that. Although a number of weapons, such as Shadowstreaker's Shock Cannon, were built to fire a crude, less powerful form of Nucleon, which was essentially energon that had been charged by an electrical current.

But, there was something different about this Nucleon. It was pure. But unlike the fuel Ratchet had seen permanently damage bots after they drank it, this Nucleon was stable, stable enough for a Cybertronian to drink and not suffer side effects, in fact. Of course, they had no way of recreating this formula without access to materials from Cybertron, so he and his fellow Autobots would have to extract the Nucleon from the power crystals and drink it that way. It would taste far from pleasant, but since Nucleon was far more potent than energon, they would only need to drink the liquid from one power crystal each cycle. And with the amount of power crystals Jetfire and Springer had recovered, and the ones Jetfire said Shadowstreaker had in his sub-space, they would be able to last for at least another six or seven jours without worrying about their energon supply.

'And we need that supply to last as long as possible,' Ratchet thought, sending his sparkmate a data packet containing the information on this discovery, which she would be able to read when she onlined.

Exiting out of the results from his analysis of the power crystal, Ratchet checked on Shadowstreaker's life signs, which were stable, before he opened up the results of his latest test on the Delphic. As the results were displayed on the screen, Ratchet scrunched his optic ridges in confusion.

The results were blank.

'This makes no sense,' Ratchet thought as he started to type commands into the computer, trying to determine why the results were blank. He had been running an examination of the Delphic's core, the one part of the ancient power source Ratchet hadn't scanned, on the yoctometer scale, there definitely should be something on his screen. What that something was, Ratchet did not know, but he knew that he should be seeing _something_ right now. Unless...

"There's an atomic cloaking field," Ratchet verbally finished his thought, the gears in his CPU working overtime as he considered the possibility.

Atomic cloaking was a theoretical anti-reverse engineering technology that, despite its name, would hide the true nature of an element or piece of technology on the smallest level of matter. Essentially, an atomic cloaking field could fool the most advanced scanner into believing an ingot of pure Primax was in fact made out of wood, or that a stone was a blackhole.

So, if there indeed was an atomic cloaking field inside the Delphic, why was it keeping its core from being studied? And why was it only hiding its core? Why wasn't it keeping all the Delphic's inner workings hidden?

... Unless the cloaking field _was_ keeping the Delphic's inner workings a secret, which was entirely possible, given how an atomic cloaking field was theorized to work. And if that was true, then everything Ratchet and Moonracer had found out about the Delphic was a lie.

Ratchet's thoughts were interrupted by a feminine groan off to his left and slightly behind him. Arcee was online.

Ratchet turned and looked at Arcee, who was, like any good soldier, already sitting up, fully online and alert, though she was rubbing her lower backplates in obvious discomfort. "Your backplates wouldn't be causing you pain if you hadn't ignored my order to recharge in your own quarters... _Again_," he said.

"How is he, Ratchet?" The blue and pink femme asked, ignoring his statement as she continued to look at Shadowstreaker's unmoving frame.

Knowing that Arcee would just ignore anything he said to her unless it was about Shadowstreaker's status, Ratchet turned to the computer, minimized the results of his latest test on the Delphic, and checked Shadowstreaker's life signs again, just as he did every morning when Arcee asked for his status. "His life signs are stable. Same as they were last cycle," he replied.

Arcee made no indication that she had heard Ratchet, just like she always did when she onlined and asked about Shadowstreaker's status, and looked at the black Triple-Changer's closed optics, almost as if she was willing his optics to open. "Any change in his CPU activity?"

Ratchet glanced down and checked the one reading he hadn't checked since entering the med-bay, a monitor for Shadowstreaker's CPU activity, which had been almost non-existent since Ratchet and his mate had repaired the damage inflicted on him by a bot whose identity was still unknown to them, since Jetfire said he had fallen into a forced recharge right after he was hit by a Thunderstroke missile, and Springer didn't even care about Shadowstreaker's condition.

The white and red medic raised his optic ridges slightly as he looked at the reading. There was a significant increase in CPU activity, activity associated with dreams. "Yes, he's dreaming."

Ratchet didn't even know Arcee had gotten up from her chair until she silently appeared next to him. She always was a stealthy one. "Is he onlining?" She asked, voice containing little emotion, though it was still obvious to Ratchet that she was hoping that he would confirm her inquiry.

Ratchet shook his helm once. "No, not yet," he said, keeping his gaze on the reading that displayed Shadowstreaker's CPU activity. "His CPU activity only spiked a klick ago, he will likely remain in an unending dream for the next few solar-cycles as his chassis gradually begins to power up his systems."

Arcee's faceplate remained stoic, though Ratchet knew from the slight dip in her shoulder-joints that this news disappointed her. She looked back at Shadowstreaker's unmoving frame, focusing on his optics like she had before. "Will his optics start moving, at least?" She asked, likely just wanting to have at least one piece of good news.

Ratchet nodded. "His optics should begin moving like a bot in recharge in about twelve breems, I'd say. He might even start moving in his recharge," he replied. "Although, I cannot be absolutely certain about that," he quickly added, not wanting to accidentally promise Arcee something that may or not happen.

The blue and pink femme made no indication that she heard him, though Ratchet knew she had. She turned and started to walk away in order to return to her chair, but as she walked away, Ratchet noticed that her left servo was barely moving as she walked, and he saw that Arcee was also being very careful each time she put weight on her right pede.

"Refusing to visit the washrack, has taken a toll on you, I see," the white and red medic observed. "You need to visit the washrack before your condition effects your spine."

"I'm_ fine_," Arcee quickly said, tone clipped as she sat back down in her chair with an almost imperceptible wince. The position she had been recharging in, combined with neglecting to visit the washrack, likely had caused a large build-up of grime in the lower portion of her backplates.

To confirm his suspicion, Ratchet pointed his scanner at Arcee's backplates and started a scan, which caused the blue and pink femme let out a displeased sound, which Ratchet ignored. "You have a significant amount of grime built-up in your protoform, and some of the grime has gotten deep into your gears," he said with a frown, looking down at the readings on his scanner, which were exactly as he suspected they would be. "You need to visit the washracks immediately, before more grime gets into your gears. Otherwise, Moonracer will need to operate on you in order to remove the grime, and to prevent your gears from ceasing up."

"I'll be fine," Arcee said without looking away from the black Triple-Changer in front of her, clearly dismissing Ratchet's statement.

The white and red medic sighed quietly. "Arcee, you need to go and wash yourself off before that grime build-up causes more than just discomfort in a few places on your chassis."

Arcee turned in her chair to look at Ratchet, the action causing the pain in the blue and pink femme's back to flare, and making her wince slightly, which didn't escape Ratchet's notice. "But I... I don't want to miss Shadow' onlining, not after I've waited for him to online for two mega-cycles..."

"His frame is still at least another jour from being completely repaired, and his CPU has only just now had a spike in activity. So as I said, he will not online for several solar-cycles," Ratchet said, tone both firm and gentle. "But, on the off-chance that he does online before then, I will notify you the micro-klick he shows signs of doing so."

Arcee looked like she wanted to continue arguing against leaving Shadowstreaker's side and going to the washracks, but didn't. Instead, she let out an annoyed sigh, stood up from her chair and walked to the door. "Better make that the astro-klick he shows signs of onlining, Ratchet," she said just before she reached the med-bay door and stepped out into the hallway, then disappeared from Ratchet's sight once the door automatically closed behind her.

Smiling at how he finally managed to convince Arcee to leave the med-bay and take care of herself, Ratchet turned back to the computer screen and brought up the blank results of his test on the Delphic, only to look at the screen in confusion.

Instead of displaying blank results, the screen was showing Ratchet an image of a panel made of gold alloy, with circuitry running through it that was far more advanced than anything else the white and red medic had seen.

"The core is a computer?" Ratchet asked himself, immensely puzzled by this discovery. Of all the things he expected the Delphic's core to be, a computer for very far down the list. It was just so... Normal, and the Delphic was anything _but_ normal.

And then there was the matter of the atomic cloaking field keeping the computer from sight. That was an incredibly advanced security method for a computer. And-

Ratchet stopped his line of thought. Why did the atomic cloak deactivate? He hadn't had time to run any tests or programs to search for a way to deactivate it, or even confirm that an atomic cloaking field was actually there, despite everything pointing to there being a cloaking field. So why was he suddenly seeing results when there were none before?

Confusion and an intense desire to understand driving him, the white and red medic's digits flew across the keyboard as he typed commands into the computer, checking everything in the system for anything that might offer a clue to the unexpected deactivation of the atomic cloaking field. His digits froze when his optics landed on the monitor for the Delphic's energy readings.

The Delphic's energy had changed slightly, Ratchet had no idea how much the minor change was effecting the Delphic, but he knew that it was. And its energy had changed at the exact same time Shadowstreaker's CPU activity had spiked.

Ratchet looked at Shadowstreaker's unmoving chassis. "What is going on inside of your helm?" He asked the stasis-locked Triple-Changer, knowing he wouldn't receive an answer, but curiosity driving him to ask anyway.

The white and red medic turned back to the computer and quickly started to run a scan of the Delphic's energy readings, while opening the results of his previous test. Shadowstreaker might not be able to give Ratchet the answers he had been in search of for jours, but the Delphic would be able to.

And Ratchet was determined to find them.

* * *

><p>Arcee was motionless as she held her servos out against the back of the washrack stalls, letting near-scolding hot water run down her armorless frame, just enjoying the feeling of having some of the built-up grime being washed away.<p>

She had arrived at the femmes' washracks, stepped into a stall, and removed her armor more than half a breem ago. She meant to only step under the washrack for a quick rinse, and maybe grab the nearby brush to scrub off a little grime from her protoform, but the moment she stepped under the hot water, she realized just how badly her movement was restricted because of the built-up grime, and how good it felt to stand underneath a washrack again. So she had merely stood there, enjoying the feeling of the water washing over her.

She hadn't moved since.

So here she was, more than half a breem later, standing under a stream of hot water, having yet to even start scrubbing at her backplates, servos, or pedes. It wasn't a very productive use of her time, but she had definitely needed to get clean, that was for sure. She had trouble even moving her left servo up onto the wall in front of her when she first entered the washrack, now she was actually able to bend and twist it. Not as much as she normally could, of course, but it was a start.

Arcee halted her thoughts when she felt her sisters online at roughly the same time, a habit they developed while they were raising Arcee, and had never gotten out of.

The blue and pink femme continued standing under her washrack as she felt Elita and Chromia approach the washracks, no-doubt making small talk as they started their morning routines.

Less than a klick after Arcee felt her sisters online, her sisters reached the femmes' washracks, entered the password for the door, which was only known to the femmes on base, and stepped inside.

"Hey, C.C," Chromia greeted, smiling at the annoyed feelings she got from her younger sibling's side of the bond when she used the nickname she had given Arcee when she was a sparkling. "Finally washing up, I see."

Arcee wanted to tell Chromia to stop calling her 'C.C.' _Again_. But since she would keep calling her that no matter what, Arcee decided it wasn't worth the effort, and she smiled slightly at the last part of Chromia's statement. "Yeah. I haven't been in here for so long that I almost forgot what it felt like to have water wash over you. I've been standing here for more than half a breem, and I haven't even started scrubbing. Remind me come in here every cycle."

Elita chuckled as she stepped into a stall next to Arcee's. "You don't need reminding, you just need to stop spending all your time in the med-bay. You do still need to take care of yourself."

Arcee's smile disappeared. "I'm staying in there until he onlines, Elita." She said, tone a little more sharp than she intended as Chromia stepped by her stall and entered the one to her left. "I just... Can't _not_ be there. He might be in stasis lock, but he's my partner, I would feel like I was abandoning him if I wasn't there, waiting for him to online."

"I never said that you shouldn't be there, Arcee, I was only saying that you still need to make sure you take care of yourself," Elita said calmly. "And you haven't been doing that in the last two mega-cycles."

Arcee sighed. "I know, I'm sorry, Elita," she apologized. "I've just been rather tense lately, with Shadow' being in stasis."

"You are forgiven... Little 'Cee," Elita said, laughing as her youngest sister stepped out of her washrack, armorless and dripping wet, punched Elita in the servo for calling her the one nickname she hated more than 'C.C,' and then went back into her stall without a word. "Oh, come on, lighten up. I was just joking with you, Arcee."

"Calling me _that_ is _not_ a funny joke," Arcee said with an angry tone, though Elita and Chromia knew Arcee was actually amused and slightly annoyed, going by the emotions they was getting from her side of the bond.

"Would you prefer we tease you about your mech?" Chromia asked with a mischievous smirk as she turned on the water to her washrack and began to remove her armor.

The amusement Arcee felt vanished with her sister's words, which, due to her bonds, caused Elita and Chromia to sober up as well. "He's not my mech, Chromia..." She said, tone blank as she grabbed the nearby brush and finally started to scrub her protoform.

"But you want him to be, don't you," Chromia stated factually, tone devoid of the humor that had been filling her voice just a moment ago. "You want your friendship to be more than what it is."

Arcee went silent for a moment, thinking about how true that statement was, both in terms in what she wanted, and... Whatever it was that her spark was trying to tell her during those strange moments once a jour where she felt something tugging at her spark before she was shocked.

"Yes, I do." Arcee finally said.

Chromia glanced over at where she felt Arcee, even though the stall was in the way. "If you want your friendship to be more, then why haven't you tried making him your mech?"

"It isn't about what I want," Arcee replied quietly, crushing the sad feeling she got from her spark as she spoke.

"I am reasonably certain that it _is_ about what you want. You are a femme, after all, and femmes get to make their mechs do _whatever_ they want." Chromia said, hoping her statement would make Arcee laugh and prevent her from putting up her emotional walls, which she could feel was beginning to happen.

Arcee didn't laugh. "Bad things happen to the mechs that I develop feelings for." She said flatly, as if stating a scientific fact.

"That isn't true," Elita said.

"Tailgate and I had just started courting when he was tortured and executed in front of my optics. Cliff' was offlined before we could even _start_ courting. Shadow' and I are only friends, and he's in stasis lock," Arcee said stoically, though Elita and Chromia could feel that she was very upset. "Every mech that I've developed romantic feelings for has either been offlined, or nearly been offlined. And from where I stand, the only reason Shadow' survived getting a hole blown in his tank is because I didn't act on what I feel."

Elita was stunned. Arcee genuinely believed Shadowstreaker would be offline if she told him how she felt about him. That of course was completely illogical, since the relationship status of a bot had nothing to do with whether they survived an injury or not. But then again, Elita could understand why her sister believed that. She had been through a lot of tragedy in her life, and had lost two mechs she cared for greatly, while the third mech she cared for, and in Elita's own opinion, cared for on the deepest level of the three, was in stasis lock. It was a sobering reminder to Elita that her youngest sister wasn't so young any more.

"My dear sister, you cannot let the events of the past take away your chance for a future," Elita finally said gently, sending her youngest sibling waves of caring emotions, trying to get Arcee out of the mood she had fallen in.

Silence was Arcee's only response.

* * *

><p>Arcee and her sisters spent another twenty klicks cleaning themselves in the washracks. They were silent throughout that time, unable to find a way to start another conversation after Arcee refused to acknowledge Elita's attempts at encouraging Arcee to act on her feelings for Shadowstreaker.<p>

After exiting the femmes' washracks, the three sisters parted ways, with Elita and Chromia heading out for their early morning patrol, along with most of the other Autobots, while Arcee immediately returned to the med-bay.

The med-bay hadn't changed since she left it. Ratchet was still near the computer, looking like he was deep into another of his tests on the Delphic floating next to him, judging by how his digits flew across the keyboard while he muttered scientific gibberish to himself. And Shadow' was still lying in the exact same position she had left him in.

Arcee stepped over to the chair she had barely left for the last two mega-cycles and sat down, sighing in relief when the action brought her no discomfort. She looked at the optics of the mech she had come to love, and was pleasantly surprised to see faint movements beneath his optic shutters. His optics had started moving sooner than Ratchet predicted.

'Enjoy your dreams, Shadow', I'll be here whenever you online.' Arcee thought, reaching out and grabbing her partner's servo, the same one she had been keeping in her grasp for the majority of the last two mega-cycles. And when she did, his servo twitched, and slowly, almost instinctively, closed around her smaller one, causing Arcee to smile for the first time since Shadow' fell into stasis lock.

Arcee was too focused on Shadowstreaker, and Ratchet was too occupied with analyzing data, to notice that the CPU readings of Shadowstreaker exponentially spiked at that moment.

* * *

><p><strong>Transcending Time<strong>

**Unknown Place**

_I found myself... Somewhere after my systems shut-down. I had no idea where, though. I could see nothing, hear nothing, and feel nothing. But somehow, I knew I was somewhere, I just had no way of knowing where._

_'This cycle has been so strange,' I thought, looking around at the black nothingness around me. It had just started out as an uncommon, but not unheard of, mission to an asteroid, where we had detected unknown Cybertronian technology. But with the unexpected sight of floating structures built by unknown Cybertronians, finding out the technology we detected were artifacts of the Thirteen, which were taken off of the ship of the Thirteen at the core of the asteroid, getting zapped by aforementioned ship and then getting assaulted by images I had no way of sorting through, and being called 'Xel'Tor' by what was definitely the most sinister-sounding voice I had ever heard, this cycle had gone from uncommon, to odd, to unusual, to downright strange. This cycle was definitely getting the top spot in my list of the weirdest cycles in my life._

_A blue-white light suddenly broke through the black nothingness around me. At first, it was tiny and its shape was unidentifiable, but then it grew into a massive blue-white spiral galaxy, bathing me in enough light for me to be able to see that I was in dark space, floating hundreds-of-thousands of light-years away from the galaxy. And that made me feel very, _very_ small, not an easy thing to do to a Cybertronian._

"A single galaxy, can contain trillions of stars,"_ a deep voice said, sounding like it was coming from all around me._

_The voice didn't sound like any voice I had ever heard before. It sounded like countless lesser voices, all carrying different levels emotion, combined into a single, great voice, one that was filled with so much wisdom that it made Prima sound young and ignorant, of which Prima was neither._

"Each star, may have many planets orbiting it,"_ the voice that sounded incalculably ancient continued. _"Each planet, may have many moons. Each moon or planet, may be home to a sentient race, perhaps several sentient races. But, few of these races will learn to master their world, fewer are destined to master their solar system, and fewer still will learn to master their galaxy."

_The galaxy in front of me was suddenly joined by hundreds of others, all unique in their own way, their light making it almost seem like I was standing outside in the middle of the cycle on Earth._

"Only a precious few will ever become the masters of many galaxies,"_ the ancient voice went on._

_The galaxies shrank with the voice's words, becoming so tiny that I could barely see them, but yet were somehow distinguishable from each other. The now tiny galaxies were then joined by an incalculable amount of other galaxies, which formed a multi-armed structure that was almost tree-like in appearance, and unfathomably immense. Calling it beautiful and awe-inspiring would be an insult._

"None will ever truly master the Cosmos in its entirety. It is older, and more expansive than you, or any single entity, can fathom. And for every moment that goes by, The One expands it by millions of light-years, creating thousands of galaxies and countless of races as he goes. The Cosmos are too extensive to be colonized, and too powerful for a single race to master,"_ the voice said, confusing me tremendously with its mention of 'The One,' someone, or something, that I had never heard of before. _"But, for all the unimaginable wonders of the Cosmos, it can all be destroyed and devoured..."

_A red light suddenly infected one of the galaxies, spreading along its arms at an alarming rate until the entire galaxy was red, as if the whole galaxy was rotting, along with everything in it. The red light spread to another galaxy, and it quickly suffered the same fate as the first, then it spread to a group of galaxies nearby, and then another, larger group and turned them red as well._

_In short order, the light spread to every galaxy I could see, leaving the once-mesmerizing beauty of the galaxies into a disgusting sea of rot. And when the light had finished infecting everything, it all began to crumble and die away, as if something was dissolving everything and everyone, until I was once again surrounded by black nothingness._

_A pair of white orbs pierced the black, like plasma torches burning paper, and looked right into my optics, making me feel like my soul was being studied. The orbs had what seemed to be transparent blue energy billowing from them, looking almost like smoke, before vanishing into the nothing that shrank back from the orbs. _"The time of the Chaos Bringer's awakening is approaching. His awakening is inevitable, you cannot stop, nor change, the events that awaken him. But, no matter what transpires, you must not allow him to break free of the prison that has formed around him. If you do, it will spell the uncreation of everything,"_ the ancient voice spoke, sounding exactly the same as it did when it first spoke, but somehow managing to make its words seem more important than anything._

_I opened my mouth to speak to the voice, but I found myself cut off before I could utter a syllable._

"There is great power locked within you, young one. It remains to be seen whether you will master it, or _it_ will master _you,_"_ it said, the white orbs that clearly belonged to it seeming to study me at even deeper level before vanishing from view._

_And just like that, I felt an invisible force push me backwards, and I was thrown from this strange place, with numerous questions ringing in my helm._

* * *

><p><strong>Transcending Time<strong>

**Pocket Universe**

After being flung from the strange place where the equally strange voice spoke to me, I found myself standing in the Pocket Universe again. Unlike the last time I was here, I was standing in the desert instead of the forest. But, there was something... Off about the Pocket Universe. Everything seemed to be clearer than it had been, like spending your whole life watching a low resolution TV, and then watching a program on a HD one for the first time. It was strange.

My parental bond with my carrier suddenly opened, preventing me from continuing to observe the slight change to the Pocket Universe. And my bond with Solus wasn't the only bond that opened, because I felt another bond open, one that definitely wasn't there before. It was similar to my bond with my carrier, but noticeably different. It felt almost exactly like the source of the emotions I received before Jetfire, Springer, and I left for the asteroid. Odd.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I used my bond with Solus, and also the second bond that had opened, to find where my carrier was located. Luckily, she wasn't far, only about two kilometers off to my right, on top of a large, rocky hill.

'Good, I won't have to fly to her this time,' I thought as I started to walk in the direction of my carrier, and, going by what I was getting from my second bond, the other bot who I now shared a bond with. And, since there was only one bot that my carrier was near at all times, that could only mean that I finally had a parental bond with my sire.

After a short walk across the desert and up the hill, I reached the top of the slope, and was greeted by one of the weirdest sights I had seen in the Pocket Universe.

Prima, Alpha Trion, Zeta, Vector, and my creators were all sitting on boulders, which in turn were surrounding a pond that was about one-hundred meters in diameter, making large enough for all of them to sit around it with room to spare... And they had bot-sized fishing poles in their servos, and I could see a half dozen bobbers floating in the pond. The remaining members of the Thirteen... Were fishing.

Megatronus looked up from the boulder he and Solus were sitting on while they watched their bobbers. "Long time no see, son. And yet, you still haven't made progress with Arcee," he said, sighing in disappointment and shaking his helm. "How very depressing. If not quite amusing."

I didn't acknowledge Megatronus' words, just stared at the water in shock. They were _fishing_. "You're in the Pocket Universe... And you're fishing... Why are you fishing?"

My sire looked down at his fishing pole for a moment, then looked back at me. "What was your first clue?" He asked dryly, ignoring the last part of my statement. "Was it the fishing poles? The fact we're all sitting around each other? Or was it the bobbers in the water?"

I finally broke free of my shock and glared at my sire, causing him to grin in amusement, while I felt the same emotion flood through my second bond, confirming that I did indeed finally share a parental bond with Megatronus. "You know, you should be a comedian."

Megatronus looked up at the constant dark cloud cover, as if seriously considering my words. "I could be a comedian, I am hilarious, after all..."

Solus rolled her optics. "Could you be a little less humble? It isn't good to put yourself down so much." She said, tone dripping with sarcasm and annoyance, though I could feel her amusement.

My sire grinned. "Yes, I could be less humble," he said, then looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. _"I AM THE GREATEST MECH EVER CREATED BY PRIMUS!"_ He shouted, then looked back at his mate with a straight look on his faceplate. "Is that better?"

My carrier, who I could feel was on the verge of laughing, shook her helm and gave Megatronus a look. "Why did I agree to become bonded to you?"

"Because of my soldering good looks, sparkling personality, and witty humor?" Megatronus offered quickly as he continued giving my carrier a straight look, as if he was completely serious.

Solus finally lost her composer and let out a snort of laughter before shaking her helm again. "You are the most ridiculous mech I have ever met."

Megatronus grinned again. "Of course I am, who else would suggest fishing in the Pocket Universe?"

"Probably Shadebreaker," Alpha Trion piped up, lazily watching his bobber from his boulder. "She would likely suggest fishing as a pastime as well."

"And so we come back to my question," I said, looking around at the Thirteen members before focusing on Megatronus. "Why. Are. You. Fishing?"

Prima answered my question instead. "Shadowstreaker, the six of us have been in this Pocket Universe for an entire universal-cycle, making sure countless species of animals don't end up killing each other off. And sometimes, we need a break. Hence the fishing. It is... Relaxing."

I nodded in understanding. There were many times in the last orbital-cycle where I just laid on my berth, accessed the internet, and played slow music to relax. Of course, I almost always found relaxation in shooting guns, but sometimes the best thing to do was to sit back and do nothing.

Zeta scoffed at Prima's words. "Hmph, this is not relaxing. Visiting the Unending Sea is relaxing. This, however, is incredibly dull and pointless."

Solus chuckled. "You're just upset that you haven't caught a fish yet." She said, smiling in amusement at the sour look her fellow Prime gave her.

"The fish are simply too_ stupid_ to even realize my hook is down there," Zeta said. "But that is beside the point. Even if I was to catch a fish, I would still find this activity boring and point-" He cut himself off and looked down at his bobber, which was now submerged beneath the water. "Oo! I got a bite!" Without another word, he reeled his line in, which was far longer than I thought it would have been, until an odd-looking, bioluminescent fish that was about eighteen inches long broke the surface of the water. He then proceeded to stare at his catch, a pleased look plastered on his faceplate.

I raised an optic ridge at Zeta's almost giddy mood as he looked at the tiny fish at the end of his fishing pole. "What was that about finding fishing boring and pointless, even if you were to catch a fish?" I asked.

Zeta glared at me. "Shut up," he said shortly, then went back to staring at the fish he caught for another few micro-klicks before releasing it and putting his line back in the water with an excited look on his faceplate.

I blinked at Zeta, but chose not to further comment on his behavior. "So, I'm in stasis lock," I said, trying to steer the conversation away from fishing, and toward more serious topics.

The amusement I felt from Solus' side of our parental bond vanished and was replaced by sad feelings, while I received the same feelings from the bond that could only be attached to my sire.

"Yes... You are," Solus said a little sadly, emotions from her end of the bond matching her tone of voice, as if blaming herself for something.

"You knew that I would go into stasis lock," I said, stating a fact, not asking a question. The Thirteen knowing I was going to fall into stasis lock would fit perfectly with most of the emotions I received from what must have been Megatronus before Springer, Jetfire, and I left Earth. He would feel dread and sadness at how he knew I would fall into stasis lock, but couldn't do anything about it, and he would also grudgingly accept that he couldn't do anything. He also would probably be happy that we were going to recover several of the relics they left behind, even though we failed to recover them. The other two emotions, however, I had no idea how they fit, nor did I know how he managed to send those feelings to me when my bond with Solus was closed and we didn't even share a bond at the time.

A wave of regret came from my carrier's side of our bond, while I caught some comforting emotions from Megatronus' side of our bond that were directed at Solus. "Yes, we did. We spoke with Primus recently, and we discovered you were destined to fall into stasis lock... Among other things. And we were not allowed to assist you during your trip to the station." My carrier answered, still sounding, and feeling, like she was saddened by this fact.

I sent Solus reassuring feelings through our bond. "When Primus tells you to do something, you can't exactly say no. His word is kinda final in every argument. So, there's no point in feeling sad about something you had no control over," I said, lessening my carrier's sadness slightly, judging by the emotions I got from her. "But, I need to ask, what do you mean by, 'Among other things'?"

Alpha Trion gave me a long look. "Do you know how a ten-thousand piece puzzle fits together immediately after you have taken it from the box?"

I frowned at Alpha Trion's statement. It could mean one of two things. One, they knew the answer to every question that I had about the events of the research station, but weren't going to tell me. Or two, they were in the dark about it as much as I was. Given the fact this was the Thirteen I was talking to, I was more inclined to believe the first option.

"Does that mean you aren't going to tell me anything? Or does that mean you just don't know?" I asked after another moment of thought.

"The first one," Megatronus said bluntly, avoiding my optics as he stared down at his bobber.

"So, you're not going to explain what those visions were? That whole Xel'Tor thing? The voices that spoke to me? Nothing?" I asked, already knowing the answer, but asking anyway just to be sure.

"Essentially, there are some things we will explain, and some topics we are allowed to discuss, but we have been barred from telling you most of what you want to know." My carrier said, not looking, or feeling, happy about this, but also not feeling sad about it, which was an improvement over how she felt a moment ago.

Vector gestured to an empty boulder that was between his boulder and the one my creators were sitting on. "Have a seat, Shadowstreaker. You'll be here for a while, probably best to get comfortable."

I nodded and moved to sit down on the boulder. "So, if we're not going to talk about what happened on the station, can you at least tell me if Refit got Jetfire, Springer, and I back to Earth?" I asked, hoping that my fellow Autobots and I were safely back at base and with the rest of our brothers and sisters in arms, even if I wouldn't be there until I onlined from stasis lock.

"It would be cruel of us to not tell you," Prima said as he at me from across the pond. "Yes, you and the others are now on Earth. Jetfire and Springer are fully functional, but you, obviously, are in stasis lock. It is fortunate that Refit returned you to Earth as quickly as he did, your injuries may have proven fatal, had you been left untreated for much longer."

"I guess I owe Refit a cube... Or a software upgrade... Or whatever it is that AIs consider drinks..." I trailed on, distracted by thoughts of whether or not an AI would want to get a software upgrade with another AI like bots shared cubes of energon, before I rearranged my thoughts and got back on track. "How did he get us back to Earth, anyway?"

"He used worker drones to convert the platform where our weapons were being kept into an escape pod for you," Solus answered, looking around her mate and at me. "He used the same drones to give your pod a running start, as the humans say. Your pod returned to Earth safely, and your fellow Autobots brought you and the others back to your base before the Decepticons were able to arrive."

I raised my optic ridges. "Is that all? He just converted a platform made for walking on into an escape pod?" I asked sarcastically, finding Solus' statement to be humorous for some reason, despite the fact I already knew that most modern Cybertronian technology would look like sticks and stones compared to the technology the Primes around me wielded.

My carrier smiled. "Cybertronian technology during the time of our reign was at Tier 0, it is far beyond your current technology. With our technology, creating an escape pod out of a platform would be as easy as lifting a digit, most times easier."

I chuckled. "I don't doubt that. The technological gap between a Tier 3 race and a Tier 2 one is astronomical, and we Autobots aren't even remotely close to being able to create theoretical Tier 1 technology. I can't even imagine the gap between Tier 1 and Tier 0."

Megatronus gave me a sideways glance. "You can never predict the future, son." He said, tone blank and his bond equally empty.

I gave my sire a confused look. "What was that supposed to mean?"

Megatronus ignored my question, and pretended to focus all his attention on his bobber.

I nodded in understanding. "You aren't allowed to tell me." I said factually.

My sire's only response was a long look, and a regretful emotion from his end of the bond. I was dead on the money.

"Why do I get the feeling you're all going to do this a lot?" I asked in slight exasperation, starting to get annoyed by the lack of straight answers.

"Probably because we will," Vector said as his bobber was pulled under the water and he started to reel his line in. "Primus told us many things in our last discussion with him. And the conversation covered many topics, many of which even _I_ wasn't aware of. And I am the Guardian of Time and Space," Vector paused a moment as he finished reeling in his line and pulled his fishing pole up, revealing a Marlin-like fish that was about ten feet long. Without really looking like he was excited about his catch, the Prime unhooked the Marlin-like fish and let it go before he continued. "And out of all the topics we discussed, we are only allowed to talk about one of them."

I waited for Vector to continue, but he didn't, he just sat there, staring at his bobber. "And what topic is that?"

Megatronus responded instead. "The fact that you and I now finally share a parental bond," he said with a smile, while both he and Solus sent me feelings of happiness through the bonds I shared with them.

I looked over at my creators. "I was wondering about that. And since this is the one topic that you can talk about, might I ask how our bond even formed across the multiverse, when it hadn't formed in my other visits here?" I asked, directing my question to Megatronus.

Solus answered my question instead. "Primus is the creator of the Cybertronian race. He can cause Cybertronians to form bonds with each other if he sees fit, and he saw fit to cause your parental bond with Megatronus to finally form, like it should have when you became a Cybertronian."

"Alright, that actually makes sense," I said. "Although, there is still one thing that doesn't make sense to me."

"And what is that?" Megatronus asked, glancing over and giving me a curious look.

I returned my sire's curious look with one of my own. "Not long after we detected the asteroid, I was flooded with emotions that weren't my own. Was that our bond opening?" I asked, still confused about the origin of the emotions I received earlier in the cycle.

Megatronus nodded. "It was," he answered simply.

"Then how did you send emotions across realities?" I asked, voicing the part of my previous question that had been bugging me the most. "Solus and I can't send emotions like that, our bond is completely blocked when I leave this place. So, how were you able to send me emotions for that brief moment?"

"Sparks are very strange things, Shadowstreaker," Prima said, answering in Megatronus' place. "Even when we ruled Cybertron, and our civilization was at Tier 0, we could never unlock their mysteries. And bonds are equally as mystifying. For reasons we never were able to determine, when a bond is first formed it is at its greatest strength, allowing the two Cybertronians that share a bond to feel each other no matter the distance, even when it is normally not a strong bond. It was this unusual phenomenon that allowed Megatronus to send you emotions across the multiverse."

"Okay, so why didn't I feel my bond with Solus open up like that?" I asked Prima. "I didn't even feel our bond until I came here for the first time since becoming a Cybertronian."

"You were sedated when you became a Cybertronian, and as a result, you didn't feel our bond open when it first formed," my carrier answered. "Had you been online, you would have felt our bond form."

I nodded in understanding. Me not feeling my bond with Solus open when it first formed made perfect sense, since Ratchet had sedated me when my transformation process from human to Cybertronian first began. "Huh," I said after a moment, not sure what else to say to the explanation. A thought came to me, and I looked at my creators again. "Since there are multiple types of bonds, do they each have their own unique feel to them when they open?"

Megatronus smiled mischievously. "Wondering what it's like to be sparkmated to the femme you love, son?" He asked in a teasing tone, raising his optic ridges up and down in a suggestive manner, causing my carrier to punch him in the shoulder-joint for his comment.

I stared at my sire for a long moment. "Firstly, no. Secondly, ew. Thirdly,_ EW_. Fourthly, how the _slag_ did you manage to make my question sound suggestive?"

Before Megatronus could answer, Solus leaned around her mate and Gibbs slapped the back of my helm. "Language, young mech!" She scolded lightly, looking like it was completely normal for her to Gibbs slap me, which wasn't supposed to happen since I wasn't a Prime, and as a result wasn't actually in the Pocket Universe.

"Since _when_ could you do that?" I asked in a surprised tone, shocked that my carrier was able to Gibbs slap me when it shouldn't have been possible.

"Since you arrived in the Pocket Universe," Solus answered easily, as if this bit of information wasn't important, though I could feel that she was amused at my reaction.

"And you didn't tell me I could interact with everything in the Pocket Universe... _Why?_" I asked, incredulous that she and Megatronus wouldn't even mention something like this until now.

My carrier smiled. "You did not ask," she replied, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world, which it was.

"And it shouldn't be a surprise to you," Megatronus added. "You are in stasis lock, which means that your spark has the ability to reach out into the Pocket Universe much easier than it would normally, since your spark does not need to support the systems of your chassis."

I blinked in surprise, and as a test, looked down at the ground next to me and looked for something to pick up. I settled for a small rock that was lying about ten feet way, and I picked it up without any problems. "So, all I have to do in order to pick up a rock in the Pocket Universe is fall into stasis lock, that is _so_ worth it," I said, tone dripping with sarcastic humor.

Solus chuckled. "It is a small benefit for such a heavy price, but you are correct, in a manner of speaking," she said, then got up from her spot next to Megatronus and walked over to me. "But there is another benefit you gained from your current condition, and that after more than an orbital-cycle, I can finally give my son a hug," she then spread her servos out and wrapped them around me in a tight hug, sending happy and loving emotions through our parental bond as she did do. She broke the hug after a moment and smiled again. "I have wanted to give you one of those since you became a Cybertronian."

"And you only had to wait an orbital-cycle to give me one," I said as Solus went back and sat next to Megatronus again. "I hope the hug was worth the wait."

"It was," my carrier said, sending me another wave of happy emotions before falling silent and returning her attention to her bobber.

I waited for someone else to speak, but none of the Primes did, they just sat on their boulders, watching their bobbers with different levels of boredom or excitement.

After the silence continued for ten klicks, during which time each Prime caught at least one fish, I finally broke the silence. "So, is there any truth to the rumors that pure Primax is indestructible? And if so, are the other rumors of you knowing how to create pure Primax also correct?" I asked, voicing a question that I had wanted to ask for a long time, but wasn't able to due to circumstance, in order to restart our conversation.

Zeta looked up from his bobber. "No, those rumors are not accurate. Nothing in the Universe is indestructible, Primax comes closer than anything else we used, but it can be destroyed. And we were never able to create Primax in its most pure form," he said, then went back to looking at the bobber without another word.

I gave Zeta a confused look. "What? You weren't able to create pure Primax?" I asked in a slightly shocked voice, genuinely surprised to hear him say that the Thirteen were never able to create Primax in its most pure form when their technology was so far beyond current Cybertronian technology, and yet we still were able to purify Primax until it was forty-nine percent pure. With their technology, it should have been easy for the Thirteen to make pure Primax.

"Do not act so surprised, Shadowstreaker," Alpha Trion said with a trace of amusement in his voice. "Our technology may have been at Tier 0 when we ruled Cybertron, but there were still many, many things we could not do."

"But, making an element totally pure isn't that hard to do. Primax is the only element we, we as in my fellow Autobots and I, can't purify to one-hundred percent. So, how come you couldn't purify Primax? With your technology, it should have been ridiculously easy for you." I said, still surprised that they never able to create pure Primax.

"Are you telling us how our technology works?" Vector asked, tone clearly indicating that he was teasing me. "As I recall, you said that you couldn't even imagine how Tier 0 technology worked."

"I said I couldn't imagine the gap between Tier 1 and Tier 0, actually... But yeah, you pretty much got what I said right." I admitted.

Vector smiled. "Of course I did, I am the Guardian of Time and Space. It's what I do."

I rolled my optics at Vector and sighed. "Yes, yes, can you just answer my question, please?"

Solus answered instead of Vector. "We couldn't purify Primax due to the... _Unique_ qualities it begins to develop after it becomes sixty percent pure." She said, pausing for a short moment in the middle of her answer, more than likely thinking back to some experiment involving Primax.

I raised an optic ridge at the tone my carrier used. "What kind of qualities?" I asked curiously.

"It varied. Sometimes a sample of sixty percent pure Primax would have normal properties, while another sample of the exact same purity had completely different properties," Solus responded. "Some samples would turn to liquid, but were unable to boil and turn into gas. Some would become soft, and have the odd ability to change their mass, and the mass of matter around them, when an electrical current was run through them. Some amplified energy exponentially, which made them useful in weaponry. And some simply retained their incredible strength until we purified them to ninety percent, the percentage where every sample that got that far formed the same properties each time."

"And what were those?" I asked.

"Firstly, our scans reported that the samples had increased in density by a hundred-fold, yet when we weighed the samples, they were twenty times lighter than they were when we began to purify them. This makes Primax at ninety percent purity the only element in existence that is ultra-dense, ultra-light, _and_ ultra-strong," my carrier answered. "And secondly, Primax becomes pure white in color at ninety percent purity, and it produces a significant amount of light, which makes it hard to look directly at a large amount of the metal. After seeing the properties of that purity of Primax, we tried to make it totally pure, but we were never able to do so. Ninety percent was the best we could do. But I truly wish we had been able to succeed, because even _we_ do not know the properties of Primax when it is completely pure."

"I see, it seems there is a lot more to Primax than we Autobots thought," I said. "And going by what you just said, I am guessing that you made the Infinite Reverence out of Primax at ninety percent purity."

Solus nodded once. "Yes, we did. Its hull is made of fifty meters of Primax of that grade, in fact." She confirmed. "Not even the Star Saber of your current reality would be able to cut through it, for I used Primax of eighty-five percent purity to construct that sword."

A trace of guilt built up within me. I had failed to recover that sword, and had watched as Megatron destroyed it. But I forced the guilt back and focused on my carrier's statement, and the fact it brought up another question I wanted to ask the Thirteen. "Why is there even more than one Star Saber? Isn't Prima's sword the only Star Saber?" I asked, gesturing to the sword hilt on Prima's backplates. Another thought came to me, and I looked at Solus, and the warhammer that was on her own backplates. "Come to think of it, why is there another of your Forges?"

Prima answered instead of my carrier. "The multiverse is infinite, and there is a different version of every man, woman, child, mech, femme, and sparkling you've ever met or heard of in each of them." He said as he pulled his line up, pulled off the lure at the end of his line and replaced it with a different one he pulled from a sub-space pocket, and then threw his line back into the pond. "And in each reality, there is a different version of the Star Saber that we have built and left for that reality's version of Optimus, or whoever the Prime is, to find. We do the same with our other artifacts, such as the Omni Saber and Solus' Forge. It ensures that every version of our descendants becomes the greatest they can be."

The feeling of guilt returned, and this time I couldn't push it away. The reasons they left their artifacts behind was simple, yet noble. And I was responsible for the destruction of three of them. Because I had failed to stop Megatron, or even manage to slow him down.

My line of thought was halted when both Megatronus and Solus, having more than likely felt my guilt, sent me comforting feelings through our bonds. "I, uh... I'm sorry that I couldn't stop Megatron," I said to my creators as I looked down into the water of the pond blankly, avoiding their optics. "There's a reason why only Optimus engages him in battle, I really didn't stand a chance. And since your artifacts are meant to be wielded only by Primes, your weapons destroyed themselves when Megatron went to touch them, and now neither the Autobots nor the Decepticons will benefit from them."

To my shock, my creators chuckled. "Our weapons didn't destroy themselves, son, they merely changed form." Megatronus said as he jiggled his fishing pole, likely trying to catch the attention of any fish in the pond.

I shifted my gaze away from the pond and gave my sire a perplexed look. "Wait, what? What do you mean by that?"

"He means what he says," Vector said, not taking his gaze off his bobber as it jerked underwater for brief moments as something nibbled on the bait. "When we built our weapons, we built a safeguard into them. This safeguard kept non-Primes from using our technology by turning our weapons into dust when a non-Prime attempted to wield them. You witnessed this safeguard in action when Megatron attempted to wield our weapons."

"Huh," I said, not exactly what else to say. I had really thought we lost our best chance to even the odds against the Decepticons when I saw the Star Saber, Omni Saber, and Solus' Forge crumble to dust in front of me. But according to Vector, we hadn't lost that chance due to a safeguard they installed, more than likely similar to how the Matrix appeared to fall apart when Sam first touched it in Revenge of the Fallen. Well, we had that chance as long as we still had the dust, that is. "So, when Optimus goes near the piles of dust that your weapons fell into, if we have them, that is, will they reform themselves?" I asked with a neutral look on my faceplate, even though I was really, really hoping the answer was yes.

Solus nodded. "Yes. When Optimus touches the dust of our weapons, our safeguard will deactivate, and our weapons will revert to their original state."

"Which is good, because I really hated seeing my sword fall apart like that," Megatronus said, adding to his mate's statement. "I really liked that sword."

What little remained of my guilt over not being able to stop Megatron vanished with Solus' words, and was completely replaced with excitement when my sire mentioned his sword. "I do, too. If fact, I would have drooled over it, if Cybertronian physiology allowed me to do so," I joked, though I honestly would have done that if I had been able to.

Megatronus' optics twinkled in amusement. "Oh, its looks are nothing compared to how it performed in combat. Then it's _really_ something to look at," he said with a smile, obviously very fond of the sword he once wielded.

I raised an optic ridge. "How so?"

My sire didn't answer, he just looked back at his bobber, feeling very smug, if I read the emotions I got from his side of our bond correctly.

After Megatronus stayed silent for a few micro-klicks, I narrowed my optics. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"Nope, I'm not going to ruin the surprise," Megatronus said with a cryptic smile, then went back to looking at his bobber.

Our conversation died again and we all fell silent for the second time, though it didn't last long, since another question that I had wanted to ask the Primes around me popped into my helm.

"Are you all the makers of the Delphic?" I asked, not really singling out one Prime in particular, just voicing the question as I looked into the pond.

I saw Vector shake his helm out of my peripheral vision. "No, we merely added to it."

Vector's statement puzzled me, so I glanced over at him. "What do you mean you added to it? Aren't you its creators?"

Prima looked across the pond and locked optics with me, a serious glint in his wise optics. "What you call the Delphic is_ far_ older than us, we only found it, and added to it, as Vector said.."

"Then... Then who made the Delphic?" I asked slowly, still puzzled by what they were telling me.

Solus gave me a look I couldn't read. "You will find out. After you are complete."

Before I could ask what she meant by that, my vision flickered between the Pocket Universe around me and darkness, and when I looked at my servo, I found that it was flickering along with me.

"It seems our time is coming to an end... And much sooner than when we expected," Solus said as she got up from her boulder again and walked toward me, tone carrying the faintest trace of frustration, but I didn't know what it was directed at. After reaching me, she quickly gave me a hug, which I returned, then she smiled. "I enjoyed talking to you again, my son. I hope you will be allowed to come back again soon."

Putting aside my confusion at how abruptly I was apparently leaving, I smiled at my carrier. "I do, too. I look forward to our next talk," I said to my creators, then looked around at the other Primes. "That extends to all of you."

Prima nodded at me. "Be well, Shadowstreaker."

After Prima spoke, my vision flickered again, and this time it kept flickering, unlike the first time when it only flickered for a moment.

Just before I found myself onlining, Megatrous looked at me with a dry look on his faceplate.

"This is the last time I will say it. You had _better_ make progress with Arcee, it's becoming painful to watch you be _so stupid._"

I onlined before I had time to reply.

* * *

><p>After Shadowstreaker left the Pocket Universe, a cobalt tear in the fabric of Time and Space appeared on the side of the pond that had the fewest members of the Thirteen, and a being of light and energy stepped through it.<p>

The being was humanoid in appearance, sharing features with both Cybertronians and humans, and several of its own, such as its hands, which each had four fingers and two opposable thumbs, and the fact there was no mouth visible, despite the fact it did not have a battle mask. The light and energy that made up its body was formed in such a way that it appeared to be armored, though not as extensively as Cybertronians, since it also appeared to be clothed in white robes over its armor that glimmered brighter than they should have with the available light around it. The being was also a titan, standing half again Prima's eighty foot height, while also being just as broad as the first Prime. Its eyes were pure white, and even brighter than the robes it wore. They and had transparent blue energy pouring from them that looked like wisps of smoke, which would then disappear not long after they poured from the being's eyes.

The being locked its white orbs on Solus. _"You told him of his future,"_ it said, the countless voices that made up its single, great voice all carrying the same tone. Disapproval.

Solus looked right back at the white orbs of light, doing everything she could to not look away from the being's primordial gaze. "I did not tell him anything that would help him, _you_ made it clear that I couldn't." She said, tone making her ill feelings on the being's order clear. "And I didn't, even though I want nothing more than to tell him everything. And did you _really_ need to send him away after so little time?"

The being ignored Solus' tone, and her question. _"You told him he would be complete, that is telling him the future. And that is not a topic you are allowed to discuss with him. You have compromised the orders Primus gave you, which in turn came from The One himself."_

Megatronus put his fishing pole down and stood up in defense of his sparkmate. "She did not reveal any details of what she spoke of, nor did she tell him anything that he understands. So, she did_ not_ compromise what Primus and The One told us to do."

_"What he does not understand today, he will understand tomorrow,"_ the being countered, speaking figuratively. _"He does not understand what he was told now, but he will. And so, you have told him of the future."_

"And you _didn't?_" Zeta asked with a faint tone of sarcasm. "Going by what you are reprimanding Solus for, you told Shadowstreaker far more about the future than she did. And far less vaguely then Solus, as well."

The being's white orbs landed on Zeta. _"We were told to do so, she was not. As a result, Solus Prime informed him of more than The One desires him to be aware of."_

"Perhaps it is better if he knows," Alpha Trion said, tone sagely as he looked up at the being from where he stood next to the boulder he had been sitting on. "He is the Xel'Tor, he should know his purpose."

The being shifted its ancient gaze on Alpha Trion. _"He is not the Xel'Tor, not yet."_

"But he will be," Prima pointed out as he walked up to the being, not at all intimidated by the difference in height. "No one else can be the Xel'Tor, only him. And he has a right to know what is expected of him."

"He will not be ready, otherwise," Vector added. "Not allowing us to prepare him for his trial is a mistake. A grave one."

The being's white orbs shifted to each Prime, then settled on Solus and Megatronus. _"Your desire to help him, is irrelevant. Even with the assistance you want to provide, there is no guarantee that he will survive the coming storm."_ It said, words hitting both Solus and Megatronus hard, even though they already knew of what the being was telling them. _"And even if he does survive it all, he will never be the same. He will carry the experiences with him for the rest of his immortal life."_

Solus nodded slowly, the implications weighing heavy on her CPU. She loved her son dearly, despite the short amount of time he had been her son, she did not want to see him go through the things she and her fellow Primes had been shown. "We know... But, any training we give him will give him a far better chance of living, and succeeding in his trial."

The being was silent for a brief moment, an eternity for it. _"Perhaps,"_ it admitted as another tear in Time and Space opened behind it, signaling that it was leaving momentarily. _"But this is what The One has planned, and it will go as He says."_ With its task of speaking to the Primes complete, the being turned around and walked toward the portal, but it paused a moment and looked at Vector. _"Do not tell your daughter of her impending discovery, it is not something The One wants any of you to interfere with."_ It said, then turned around and walked into the tear in Time and Space, the portal closing behind it immediately after it stepped through.

Solus narrowed her optics at where the being was last visible. "I hate him," she said, the displeasure she clear in her voice. "He has no right to decide the fate of our son."

Megatronus sent calming emotions to his mate. "_He_ is not deciding Shadowstreaker's fate, The One is. And The One has just _slightly_ more wisdom than we do," he said, fighting his own feelings on the matter as he tried to reassure his mate. "And also,_ they_ are not technically a he _or_ a she."

"I don't give a slag about technicalities," Solus said, uttering a rare curse as she crossed her servos. "They are definitely not feminine in apparence, so I will call them a 'He.' And even if he isn't deciding our son's fate, I still do not like what we are doing."

"None of us do," Prima said. "But, our servos have been tied. We can do nothing for Shadowstreaker at this time, and we can't dwell on that. We have Shadebreaker to speak with as well, and we cannot let our feelings regarding our commands from Primus and The One to affect her visit, she will know something is bothering us, and will not let the matter be, it is how she is." The first Prime looked at Vector. "When is she arriving, Vector?"

Vector did not immediately reply, because his parental bond with his daughter fully opened at that moment, just like he knew it would. He sent his daughter feelings of love, which were returned, before he looked back at Prima. "She is here now. At the Unending Sea."

"Go and bring her back," Prima ordered. "The rest of us shall wait here."

Vector nodded, and then disappeared as he space bridged to where his daughter appeared in the Pocket Universe.

Prima looked at Solus after Vector space bridged away, and nodded slightly, a sign that he understood how she felt about their command not to inform her son anything about his future, then he went back to his boulder and sat down.

After Prima sat back down on his boulder, the rest of the Primes followed suit and pushed their feelings about their orders aside for Shadebreaker's sake.

But, even though Megatronus and Solus appeared normal, like their fellow Primes appeared, their thoughts were still focused on their son, and the path he was being asked to walk.

* * *

><p><strong>And so... I add more things that are not explained. I think I am having too much fun doing this. Lol.<br>**

**And I know that I recently cut a chapter off like I did with this one, but I am making my story lines for each chapter quite long, too long for me to write them in one chapter unless I write at a steady pace, which I have not been able to do in a long while. So, sorry for doing the same thing as two chapters back, but I had to cut this off so that you wouldn't kill me due to lack of updates. I should be able to write the chapter following the next one without splitting it up, though. So there's that. I am sorry if you are sick me doing this, I will do my best to stop doing it, though, since I am hoping to cut down on the amount of things I have occur in each chapter, unless you like how I have them set up, in which case I will keep it the same. **

**This chapter's credit song is "Selectracks - Black Horizons" This song has a mysterious feel to it, and mystery is a heavy theme in this chapter, so it fits very well in that regard.**

************So, please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.************


	29. Awakening

**Well, not really much to say up here over that the fact that I got this one done faster than I thought I would. At least, going by the rate of which I was writing up until a few days ago, because I wrote probably more than half of this in the last four or five days. So, thanks for waiting for this chapter, even though it didn't take me as long to write it as my last ones. :)**

**And, as usual, thanks go out to everyone who reviewed, your feedback means a lot to me, and it helps me find inspiration to write. Thank you all, again. :)**

**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**Now, as everyone who reviewed now knows, I am now responding to reviews through PMs, I feel it is more personal and makes it more clear how much I love and appreciate hearing all of your feedback. So I will not be writing responses to reviews up here unless the person who reviewed doesn't have an account. Now, onto the chapter!**

********Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.********

* * *

><p><strong>April 13, 2013 6:11 A.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

_After leaving the Pocket Universe, I found myself surrounded by darkness again, but it wasn't as total as the place I was when the ancient... Thing spoke to me. I could faintly feel myself lying on something, likely a berth, and I could just barely hear voices speaking. I had no idea what the voices were saying, but one of them sounded feminine and excited, while the other sounded deeper and confused._

_The darkness around me suddenly lessened somewhat, and my ability to feel and hear increased. And after listening for a moment, I found that the voices belonged to Arcee and Ratchet, though I still didn't know what they were saying. I must have been in the med-bay, likely having been brought there after Refit converted our platform into an escape pod and sent it back to Earth._

_But, I still didn't feel like I was in my frame, I felt like I was standing up in a dark room. It felt strange, being aware, yet unable to do anything. I would call it an out-of-chassis experience, but since I couldn't see anything or make out anything that Arcee or Ratchet were saying, I think this was closer to a very odd and pointless dream. In short, it sucked._

_I stood in the darkness for nearly a klick, trying to figure out how to get out of the odd state I found myself in, before a hologram of a Cybertronian mech's outline appeared in front of me._

_It was large, probably my height, and it glowed green while it seemed to shimmer in front of me, as if its projector was damaged. The main focus of the hologram appeared to be the circuitry of the mech, since the circuitry was a lighter green than the rest of the hologram._

_Not bothering to wonder why I was looking at a hologram of a mech's circuitry, since this cycle had already been incredibly strange, I looked the hologram up and down, searching for anything that was unusual. Well, apart from the fact the hologram itself had appeared out of nowhere._

_After finishing my quick once-over of the hologram, I noticed that the holographic mech's circuitry was just barely carrying an electric current, which meant the mech was in stasis lock, if he had been real, that is._

_The hologram suddenly shifted its focus away from circuitry, and focused on the spark of the holographic mech. Its pulse was slightly irregular, a sign that the mech was still injured, but stable, and all the circuitry connected to the spark was almost entirely restricted, only allowing an electrical current strong enough to power the mech's basic functions, and keep him in a state of dreams that would seem unending._

_Without telling my chassis to do so, my servo reached out and touched the holographic spark, causing that section of the hologram to be pushed back, and all the restricted circuitry to fully open._

_'And... Why did I do that?' I thought, not bothering to mentally add the fact my servo wasn't even under my own control when I touched the hologram._

_Before I could formulate a theory as to why I had interacted with the hologram without thinking, the hologram flickered from existence, and I found myself back in my chassis, with my optics still closed, and one of my servos wrapped around something at my side._

My frame felt stiff and incredibly sore, as if I hadn't moved in eons.

"Ow..." I said quietly at the discomfort my soreness was causing me, barely noticing when the object one of my servos was wrapped around slipped out of my grasp.

"You took your sweet time onlining, Shadow'," Arcee said from off to my right, voice quiet and soft, but sounding loud to my recently-onlined audio receptors.

Being careful not to move too quickly, I slowly opened my optics and looked at where Arcee's voice came from.

The femme who had stolen my spark was sitting in a chair and looking at me with a huge, relieved smile on her faceplate, while Ratchet stared at me from where he stood at the med-bay computer with the Delphic floating next to him, looking like he might glitch from disbelief, going by the look on his faceplate.

"You know, this situation seems _very_ familiar," I said quietly, referring to when I had onlined after contracting the cybonic plague.

"Maybe that's because you keep getting injured and ending up in the med-bay," Arcee said in a quiet, amused tone, though the look in her optics was far from amused. It was closer to... Concerned? Sad? Frightened? I couldn't tell.

I stopped trying to read the look in Arcee's optics, and gave her a small smile. "Can't help it. The Decepticons love using me as a target. Though, I admit there are times where I could have avoided injury, but where's the fun in that?"

Arcee let out a short laugh, clearly being careful not to be too loud, which I appreciated. "You are absolutely insane."

My smile became a smirk. "I am not insane... Just mentally unstable, there is a difference." I said in an indignant tone, as if offended by Arcee's words.

The blue and pink femme rolled her optics at me. "Why did I sit here and wait for you to online all this time?" She asked, the look on her faceplate betraying her amusement.

Making sure not to read into the similarities our conversation had with the banter of my creators, I chuckled lowly. "I don't know. Boredom, perhaps?" I asked half-sparkedly, having no clue why she apparently waited for me to online, so making a joke out of it. Although, the part of her statement that suggested she had been waiting for a while confused me. "But you kinda bring up something I need to find out," I continued as I pushed my humor aside for the moment. "How long have I been out this time?"

The look on Arcee's faceplate became more serious. "You've been in stasis lock for two mega-cycles, Shadow'," she answered. "Your CPU barely even showed any activity until about a breem ago."

I looked at her in surprise. I had been out for two mega-cycles, and she stayed here the whole time? That was rather... Needless. "And you stayed here the entire time? Why did you do that?"

Arcee's frame stiffened for a brief moment, before it relaxed again. Odd... "We're partners, we stick with each other, even when one of us is out of it," she said, voice unnaturally even, as if there was something else she wanted to say, and was doing everything she could not to. "And besides, it's not like you wouldn't have done the same," one of the corners of her mouth twitches upward in a smile, and I feel a tug at my spark as she does, not unlike the Pulling, except it lasts only for a micro-klick and there was no electrical shock. She's been waiting here for so long...

I stared into Arcee's azure optics, trying to figure out what she was trying to keep herself from saying, while also doing what I could to not allow the feeling in my spark to affect me. It was so unlike Arcee to_ not_ say what was on her CPU. She was always honest with me when explaining things, but she wasn't being upfront with me with this.

And that gave me an overwhelming urge to spill my guts about how I felt. To pour my spark out to her, and not give a damn about the consequences. I admit, how I felt when I thought the horde was going to offline me _definitely_ had something to do with my urge to tell her, but there was this nagging voice in the back of my helm that was saying that maybe my feelings weren't worth keeping a secret anymore. After all, several of my male friends in high school had openly told some of my female friends that they had an interest in them, and even though my female friends hadn't returned their interest, they remained friends anyway. So if I told Arcee how I felt, right here and right now, and she didn't return my feelings, what was keeping us from remaining friends? Nothing. And that voice in the back of my helm is being _awfully_ insistent...

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on what my CPU and spark were telling me, Ratchet finally spoke, causing Arcee and I to break away from each other's optics for the first time since I onlined. "You're online," the white and red medic said, tone far louder than the one Arcee was using, which caused me to wince slightly at the volume, and also comically incredulous, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Both grateful and disappointed at the interruption, I put a partially forced smile on my faceplate. "What could have _possibly_ made you think that, Ratchet?" I asked dryly. "I am clearly still in stasis lock," I looked at Arcee again. "Aren't I still in stasis lock?"

Obviously seeing what I was doing, Arcee put a look of false seriousness on her faceplate. "Well, since you_ clearly_ aren't talking, joking, or moving, I would say so." She replied, tone equally as dry as mine as she joined in on my joking.

Ratchet, evidently, wasn't paying attention to our joking. "How are you online?" He asked, still sounding incredulous as he continued to stare at me in disbelief, almost ignoring Arcee's presence.

I gave Arcee a confused look before looking back at Ratchet. "Because my optics are... Open?" I asked weakly, having no idea why Ratchet was acting like he was, and not sure how to answer his questions.

"No, no, no, that isn't what I meant," Ratchet said with a shake of his helm, sounding more like he normally did when he was he was curious. "What I meant was, how are you already online? Your CPU only showed significant activity a little over a breem ago, like Arcee said. You should still be in stasis lock for at _least_ the next three or four solar-cycles. So how are you already online?"

I returned Ratchet's curious look with one of my own. I couldn't just say that his estimate of when I would online from stasis lock was wrong. This was Ratchet, he was never wrong when it came to medical matters. If he said I wasn't supposed to be online right now, I wasn't supposed to be online. Simple as that. But, no matter what I thought of, I couldn't think of something that might explain my early onlining. Of course, I had been taken out of the Pocket Universe rather suddenly, but that had nothing to do with my sudden onlining, going by how Solus said that I was leaving the Pocket Universe earlier than the Thirteen expected. So what caused me to online... Early...

The hologram I touched before onlining.

"I am not _entirely_ sure if this has anything to with why I am online right now, but before I onlined, I saw some kind of hologram," I said. It would make sense that the hologram had something to do with how I am online now, since the hologram seemed to be of a mech in stasis lock, and I onlined immediately after I caused the electrical current of the hologram to return to normal levels. I just had no idea how the hologram appeared, or how it was even connected with me.

"A... Hologram?" Ratchet asked, the curious look on his faceplate quickly being replaced by a confused one. "A hologram of what?"

"It looked like a medical scan of a mech's circuitry from what I could tell," I answered. "And, as if I wasn't in control of my frame, I reached out and touched the hologram. And I onlined almost immediately after I touched it. It was... Odd, to say the least."

My statement seemed to make Ratchet go deep into thought, since he went silent and tapped his digits against the keyboard of the med-bay computer, a habit of his whenever he was trying to come up with an answer to something. But Arcee, however, smirked.

"Are you saying that you pulled a Miko?" She asked in an amused tone, leaning back in her chair and crossing her pedes over each other, while also folding her servos over her chestplates.

"I pulled a what?" I asked with a chuckle as I turned my attention to Arcee.

"A Miko. You pressed a button without knowing what it did or what the consequences could possibly be," Arcee replied, her grin widening when I laughed at her joke.

I was about to continue my short conversation with Arcee, but I caught Ratchet starting to type commands into the med-bay computer out of my peripheral vision, so I turned my attention back to him.

The white and red medic's digits flew over the keyboard at an almost blinding speed for a few moments, then suddenly, his optics widened in surprise and his entire frame froze up. He didn't give any indication that he would do so, he just froze, as if he had suddenly transformed into a statue.

After Ratchet hadn't said anything for a few micro-klicks, I shared a confused look with Arcee, then looked back at Ratchet and asked, "Hey, you okay, Ratchet?"

My statement seemed to break Ratchet from his daze. "I'm fine," he replied, returning his optics to their normal size as he continued to look at the screen. "Just... Surprised by something."

"And that something would be?" I asked.

Ratchet turned his helm and stared at me, a partially curious and partially bewildered look in his optics. "According to my readings, somehow, someway, your CPU tapped into the Delphic's energy, and then used it to advance your healing processes by several solar-cycles."

I blinked at Ratchet. Once. Twice. Three times. "What?" I finally asked, knowing I had heard him correctly, but unable to formulate another question.

"You tapped into the Delphic's energy," Ratchet repeated, tone now matching the look in his faceplate. He broke optic contact with me for a moment, looked at the monitor, and then back at me. "How...? How did you tap into it?" He asked, voicing the same question Arcee was about to ask, going by how she opened her mouth to speak when Ratchet looked at the screen, but closed it when the white and red medic spoke again.

I didn't answer, just looked at the Delphic as it floated next to Ratchet. I had apparently tapped into its near-incalculable power and used an equally incalculably small portion of its energy to heal myself. Well, I hadn't really healed myself, just sped my healing process up slightly. But still, I had tapped into the _fragging Delphic_... With my_ CPU_. And I had no idea how I had done it.

I finally tore my gaze away from the Delphic and refocused on my fellow Autobots. "I have no idea... Magic?" I asked, only half joking, because with all the crap that happened on the station, magic could end up actually being a viable explanation.

Arcee raised an optic ridge at my statement. "I don't think that's the likely answer," she said with a light chuckle. "Unless you are talking about the kind of magic that can be explained with..." She trailed off, optics lighting up like she just had an epiphany. "Technology..." She looked at Ratchet. "Is it possible that when Shadow' was knocked into recharge by the ship, that it altered his CPU with that other thing he mentioned so that he could interact with the Delphic? The Precursor Protocol, or whatever?" She asked, obviously having heard what happened on the station.

Ratchet looked up slightly, clearly in thought. "Well... Maybe," he said, turning his gaze back at the two of us. "But the problem with that theory is that neither Moonracer nor I have detected anything different with Shadowstreaker's CPU when he was first brought to the med-bay," he gestured to the screen next to him. "And even now his CPU readings are normal."

"Who said his CPU readings would be effected by the change?" Arcee asked, tone suggesting her question was rhetoric. "And he's also been in stasis nearly that entire time, so his CPU wasn't even in use when they arrived back at Earth," she glanced at me. "Not that it is right now," she quipped with a smile, causing me to narrow my optics playfully before she looked back at Ratchet. "I would be willing to bet that if you ran a quick scan of his helm, your readings wouldn't match up with your original ones."

Ratchet was quiet for a few moments, likely analyzing Arcee's theory in his helm, then he grumbled something under his breath and stepped around the Delphic and walked over to us. And after walking over to Arcee and I, he activated the scanner on his servo and ran it over my helm twice.

He frowned when he finished the final scan and looked at his scanner. "That's... Unusual."

Arcee smiled thinly at the white and red medic's reaction. "I'm right, aren't I?"

Ratchet looked up and gave her an annoyed look. "Yes... Yes you are." He said slowly, as if it was painful for him to admit that Arcee came up with the answer to a science-related question that he hadn't been able to.

The femme who held my spark widened her smile, which caused Ratchet to huff in irritation, but she didn't say anything in response.

"Uh, I am usually not one to interrupt, but how has my CPU been altered?" I asked in a slightly unnerved tone, not exactly comfortable with learning that my CPU had been changed without my knowledge.

Ratchet kept his annoyed gaze on Arcee for another moment before he looked at me. "It seems the EM pulses racing through your processor are now operating on a different frequency, one that is similar to the energy the Delphic is constantly giving off," he explained. "And because of this, your CPU seems to have established a permanent, partial link with the Delphic." A confused look entered his optics. "While this explains what the Precursor Protocol did to you, it does_ not_ explain how or why it gave you the ability to access the Delphic, tell us how you can access it again, or why the link is only partial and not complete, or even if it is possible to access the Delphic's core without having a mental connection to it," he added that last part with a small frown, as if he was frustrated by the concept.

With some difficulty, I managed to push aside my shock of learning I now shared a mental connection with the Delphic, and focused on the last part of Ratchet's explanation. "What is so important about being able to access the Delphic without sharing a connection with it?"

"Earlier, before you onlined, I finally discovered what the Delphic has been hiding since we found it, and it was in the core." The white and red medic answered as he stepped over to the med-bay computer and began typing commands into the keyboard.

Arcee's optic ridges rose up in surprise. "You didn't mention that when I came back from the washracks, but then again, I should have suspected that you discovered something, going by how you didn't even pause in your work until Shadow' started to online." She said.

"I do tend to do that when I encounter something interesting," Ratchet admitted as he continued to type, digits flying across the keyboard in a perfectly choreographed dance. "And the Delphic's final surprise is _definitely_ interesting."

"And what is the Delphic's final surprise?" I asked.

Ratchet finished typing commands into the computer and looked over at me. "See for yourself," he said, then turned the computer monitor so Arcee and I could see the image that was on the screen.

It was an image of panel made out of some kind of gold alloy, with computer circuitry that was clearly far beyond anything we could create.

I blinked at the image, confused that the final secret of the Delphic was only the motherboard of a computer. "That isn't exactly awe-inspiring, seems rather ordinary." I commented. With how feverishly Ratchet had been running tests as he tried to figure out what the ancient power source was hiding, I was expecting the thing he was searching for to be something a little more... Uncommon.

"It might seem ordinary at first glance, but if that panel was being displayed in its actual size, it would take up less than a yoctometer of space." Ratchet said, tone suggesting he was more than a little taken aback by this fact.

Arcee's optics widened in surprise. "Wait, are you saying the core of a Delphic contains a subatomic level computer?" She asked in a tone that mirrored the surprised look on her faceplate.

And I was reacting in a similar manner as the femme who captured my spark.

As a Tier 2 race, femtoengineering was involved in the creation process of most of our technology. In fact, everything from how the computers back on Cybertron could process a trillion, trillion exaflops of data per micro-klick, to how we were able to communicate at FTL speeds, and that our ships could travel beyond the speed of light without using space bridges, was only possible because of femtoengineering.

And since our technology is far more advanced than any other race we have encountered, it had been only logical to assume that our technology would leap ahead if we could master subatomic engineering, a leap that would put us on the level of the Golden Age, since many technologies from that time period were theorized to have been created with subatomic engineering, although there was little to no proof of that. But, even though we had mastered femtoengineering, scientists quickly discovered that subatomic engineering was on an entirely different level. We could never make it efficient, or manipulate the quarks and electrons, or the layers of matter that they were in turn made from, in the ways that we desired. So, we had stopped trying to accomplish subatomic engineering, and stuck with femtoengineering. And from then on, it was assumed that subatomic engineering would never again be obtainable, a secret of the Ancients that was lost to time.

Ratchet shook his helm at Arcee's question. "No, I have run further scans, and I found that the entire core of the Delphic is a computer. A perfect sphere, in fact, one that is about three times the size of those marbles the children sometimes play with when they are particularly bored."

"So why make circuitry subatomic in size if the computer is going to be something that is visible without enhancing our vision?" I asked.

Ratchet gave me a look. "Why do humans create computer clusters?" He asked in turn, referring to the method of connecting hundreds or thousands of computer processors together in order to effectively make them operate as one.

Understanding dawned on me while I saw Arcee's faceplate light up in the same fashion. "You think the core is some sort of ancient supercomputer," she said, stating a fact, not asking a question.

The white and red medic nodded. "From what my scans have told me, yes. It is the only explanation for why the circuitry is so small when the computer itself is large enough to be visible."

"So that's why you want to access it," I concluded. "You want to see what the computer contains."

"Precisely," Ratchet answered. "Our computer systems on Cybertron were smaller than the core of the Delphic, and they are trillions of times more powerful than any system we have encountered. Can you imagine how powerful a computer made with this kind of technology is? Or what data it might contain?"

I shook my helm, but didn't answer his questions, since they were clearly rhetorical. And instead, I moved the conversation along. "So, what have you tried to gain access to the Delphic?"

Ratchet let out a light chuckle. "Everything except plugging it into the computer, and I do not want to do that, given the Delphic's power output."

"Yeah, that probably wouldn't go well," Arcee said with a wince, likely picturing the disaster that would result from unleashing the power of a million medium-sized stars into the systems of our base.

Silently agreeing with Arcee's statement, I looked back at Ratchet. "Were any of the other methods you tried successful? Or gave you a clue about a method that could work?"

"No, everything I've tried has been ineffective," Ratchet replied quickly, then looked over at me again. "It seems that you are the only thing that can access the Delphic, Shadowstreaker. I had hoped that you knew how you accessed it, and could in turn tell me, but that apparently is not the case." He sighed, sounding disappointed that I didn't know how to access the Delphic. "Seems I am back at square one."

"Technically, you aren't. Square one implies that you are back where you started, and know nothing new. But you now know that the Delphic's core is a computer, so you aren't at square one. You don't know how to gain access to the computer, but you are still not at square one." I pointed out. "And I wouldn't worry about that. From what you said, you only found that the core was a computer a little while back, so you have time to figure out how to access it without my mental connection. There isn't a time limit on when you figure out how to get into it, after all."

"While that might be true, there are far fewer ways to access a computer than there are to perform tests," Ratchet said. He looked like he was going to continue, but the sound of the med-bay door opening cut him off, and caused the three of us to look at the door to see who was entering.

It was Optimus.

The Prime was about to step into the med-bay, but he paused when he saw that I was online. "You have onlined from stasis lock," he stated with a slightly surprised tone, not something he often felt. "I was informed by Ratchet that you would not be online for several solar-cycles."

I shrugged. "What can I say? I am a fast healer," I joked.

Arcee turned her helm and raised an optic ridge at me. "Yes, and your connection with the Delphic had_ nothing_ to do with your sudden onlining," she said sarcastically.

"Of course it didn't," I said matter-of-factly. "Did you not hear me say I was a quick healer?"

The blue and pink femme's only response to my joke was to let out a light laugh and shake her helm.

After my short exchange with Arcee, Optimus gave the two of us a confused look, then focused his attention on Ratchet. "What do they mean? When did Shadowstreaker ever have a connection to the Delphic?" He asked.

"Do you recall the Precursor Protocol mentioned in Jetfire and Springer's debriefing of their mission of the asteroid?" Ratchet asked, then continued when the Prime nodded. "It seems that the Protocol's purpose is now known, thanks to a theory Arcee came up with. His CPU was altered, Optimus. And the alteration has caused his CPU to form a permanent, partial link with the Delphic, though I do not know exactly why the link is only partial, or why the Protocol formed the link, only that it is there. And somehow, this link allowed Shadowstreaker to accelerate his healing process by several cycles, hence why he is online now."

Optimus did not react outwardly to this piece of information, but I could tell he was surprised when he looked back at me. "And you can control this... Connection, Shadowstreaker?"

I shook my helm. "No, I can't. I apparently used it to online earlier than I would have, but I have no idea how I really did it. It kind of just happened."

Optimus hummed in thought. "If you cannot control it, then why did the Protocol form a link between you and the Delphic in the first place?" He asked, tone indicating that he was only voicing his thoughts, not actually speaking to me.

Ratchet answered as if it was an actual question. "All we know is that it is there, anything beyond that is unknown."

"If we are meant to know, the answer will eventually reveal itself to us in time," Optimus said sagely, clearly dismissing the topic for the time being. He looked at Ratchet. "Has there been any progress with the unidentified material we recovered from the craft that returned Springer, Jetfire, and Shadowstreaker to Earth?"

The white and red medic shook his helm and used a servo to gesture at three piles of dust that were next to him, opposite the Delphic, which I hadn't noticed until he gestured to them. "No, there's been no further progress," he answered flatly, as if he had said the exact same thing many times before. "Other than our initial discovery that the particles are made from an ultra-strong alloy that is primarily made up of highly purified Primax, we know nothing about the particles."

After Ratchet said what the particles were made of, and I looked at the dust piles for a moment, I recalled my conversation with the Primes, and smiled. "I know what they are... Or what they _were_, that is, since they are pretty much nothing at the moment," I said, causing three pairs of optics to turn to me, each carrying a different level of curiosity.

"And what were they, Shadowstreaker?" Optimus asked.

"Touch one of the dust piles, and you will find out," I replied.

The Prime looked at me for a long moment like he wanted to ask me to clarify what I meant, but he let me speak unclearly, and he looked at the piles of dust next to Ratchet and reached out at the one nearest to him.

Just as he touched the pile of dust, the pile sparked like the weapons of the Thirteen did when Megatron touched them, and each and every speck of dust floated up in the air and began to arrange themselves, immediately causing my fellow Autobots in the room to jump in surprise, with Optimus reacting the least out of the three. The dust continued to float higher up in the air as it arranged itself, the millions and millions of particles slowly merging together as they formed pieces of gold or silver metal. Finally, the dust finished arranging itself, leaving Optimus holding the newly-reassembled Forge of Solus Prime.

The silence that followed my carrier's Forge reassembling itself was deafening. If a pin dropped on the other side of the med-bay, it would have been painfully loud, that was the type of silence it was. It was like my fellow Autobots were afraid to move, for fear that what they just witnessed wasn't real. Although, it was hard to tell exactly what was going on in their helms. I knew what was going on in my helm, though, and even though I knew what would happen, I was still left surprised by actually seeing it.

After the med-bay was quiet for several micro-klicks, Optimus seemed to break himself from a trance and looked over at me. "How did you know what would happen when I touched the dust?" He asked in a moderately astonished voice, likely still shell-shocked by seeing Solus' Forge form from essentially nothing.

"While I was out, I had a visit with the Thirteen. They explained to me that their weapons have a safeguard installed that reduces them to dust in the event someone who is unworthy attempts to wield them, and the safeguard deactivates when someone who is worthy touches them." I explained.

Arcee gave me a curious look. "Why didn't you say you visited with them until now?" She asked.

I shrugged. "There wasn't an appropriate time to bring up the topic. And this visit wasn't like my other ones. They were rather secretive this time, only answering questions that weren't related to the events of the asteroid."

"Questions such as?" Ratchet prompted.

I shrugged again. "Pointless things. Whether or not they had truly found a way to create pure Primax, they didn't by the way, a little bit about how bonds are at their strongest when they first open, things like that." I said. "The only topics that were really noteworthy was learning that their weapons had a safeguard that turned them into dust when someone unworthy touched them, and that they aren't the Delphic's creators." While the fact I now shared a parental bond with my sire was noteworthy, it wasn't noteworthy in the way Ratchet likely saw things related to the Pocket Universe, so I didn't add that detail to what I said. However, I would probably tell Arcee about it later, though.

"The Thirteen did not make the Delphic?" Optimus asked, sounding more like a statement of surprise than an actual question as he looked at the ancient crystal, a perplexed look in his optics. "If they did not create it, then who did?"

I chuckled once without any humor. "They left that question unanswered, like many of the questions I asked."

"It sounds like your visit was more causal than the other ones you've told us about," Arcee observed.

I laughed genuinely at that, not like my previous chuckle, which caused Arcee to look at me in confusion. I quickly sobered myself, though I couldn't keep an amused smile off my faceplate. "Well, they were fishing the entire time I was there."

The blue and pink femme raised an optic ridge incredulously. "Wait, seriously? They were_ fishing?_" She asked, pausing long enough for me to nod in confirmation. "And_ why_ were they doing that?"

"They were apparently bored," I replied humorously. "And to pass time, Megatronus suggested that they fish... He's an odd one."

Arcee smiled. "Reminds me of a certain mech I know, a mech who claims to be only mentally unstable, and not insane," she teased.

"Hey, even_ I_ am not as mentally unstable as he is," I said, taking her teasing in stride.

"As interesting as this conversation is," Ratchet drawled sarcastically, interrupting my exchange with Arcee. "May we get back on topic?"

I looked over at Ratchet. "What topic is there to get back on? What I already told you is literally everything you would consider noteworthy, Ratchet."

The white and red medic blinked at me. "That is honestly all the Thirteen told you in your visit?" He asked, looking surprised that my visit with the Primes didn't yield more information.

"Yes, everything that is scientifically interesting, or incredibly confusing, has already been said," I answered.

Ratchet huffed. "While I find it disappointing that your visit didn't provide the answers to the many questions we have, at least we have the tools of the Primes with us, now," he said, looking away from me and at Optimus as the Prime continued to examine it, a look of awe still in his optics. "With Solus' Forge alone, we have a major advantage over the Decepticons, since we will no longer need to rely on energon deposits to meet our energon needs."

"That we do not, Ratchet," Optimus said, continuing to look down at the Forge in his servos for another moment before seeming to become puzzled by something. He then looked up from the ancient tool and focused on me. "Shadowstreaker, if the safeguard you mentioned is only meant to activate when someone unworthy attempts to wield one of the weapons of the Primes, then who attempted to wield the relics on the station? We all are unaware of the events that transpired after the Thunderstroke missiles impacted, but from what Jetfire said, you were still online, and that you saved him from Decepticons which were about to execute him." The Prime set the Forge against the wall, being careful despite it likely being many orders of magnitude more durable than any alloy we could make, walked over to me, then looked me in the optics. "What happened on the station, Shadowstreaker?"

I went silent for a while and looked up at the ceiling, thinking about how sudden the Thunderstrokes hit, the Decepticons I offlined before they could execute Jetfire, my fight with Megatron, which was more like me standing there for a moment before the Decepticon leader effortless tossed me to the side, the horde that nearly reached me... And the single thought that had gone through my CPU as they approached, the thought about how I never got to tell Arcee how I felt before I offlined.

"The Thunderstrokes hit us without warning, just like they were designed to," I said, preventing myself from blurting out a confession to Arcee at that moment. "Springer went down before he even realized what was going on, Jetfire only lasted a bit longer. And he was right, I was online while they were in a forced recharge, though the only reason I wasn't in the same condition as they were was because of my armor."

Optimus looked at me patiently. "Go on," he said, knowing that I was only starting my debrief from a point in time common with Jetfire and Springer's.

"After the missiles hit, the gunship that fired them flew in and landed near the platform the three of us were on," I continued, clearly having the entire attention of Arcee and Ratchet along with Optimus'. "I faked being like Jetfire and Springer, since I was still a little disorientated from the missile, and wouldn't have the time to pull out my Nucleon and take it down before it turned me to ashes. Two Decepticons stepped out of the gunship once it landed. They were big bots, almost my size, but that's not really important. The first thing they did was step over to Jetfire, then kicked him in the tank and roused him from his forced recharge. They saw he was online, so they prepared to execute him. But, they thought all of us were in the same condition, and had their backplates turned to me. Last mistake they made. I shot the one who was about to offline Jetfire in the backplates with the shotgun I acquired from an armory, then caught the other one in the chestplates with another round. They both offlined in..._ Interesting_ ways."

"Yeah, Jetfire mentioned that. He said they basically dissolved to ashes with a single round," Arcee commented in her usual tone, though I could tell she wanted to get her servos on one of the shotguns I had on the station, though I am not sure if she could fire it, since it was nearly as large as my Nucleon.

"They did," I confirmed, before getting back on track. "After I offlined the Decepticons and checked on Jetfire quickly, I targeted the gunship's engines with my missile launchers. The pilot tried to fly away, but he wasn't fast enough. I unloaded every missile I had into the engines, took it down quickly, and before it had been able to get very far away. As it spiraled down to the floor of the cavern, I started walking back to Jetfire and Springer... But that was when the last passenger of the gunship flew back up to where I was."

Optimus' optics darkened slightly. "Who else was in the gunship?" He asked quietly, as if he already knew the answer, but was asking just to be sure.

I gave the Prime a serious look. "Megatron," I responded, and as I suspected, Optimus did not look surprised, only saddened, and slightly angered. "He landed a ways away from me, then taunted me a bit, which I returned in order to buy myself some time. During our short exchange, he shifted his weight, and I fired since I thought he had left himself open to attack, but he just... Flowed around my shots like they were slow-moving arrows. And before I knew it, my shotgun was melted by a Fusion Cannon shot, and Megatron was causally mocking my attempt to offline him. I tried shooting him with my Scatter-Blaster and Plasma Chaingun, but he shot those off my servos even more easily than he shot my shotgun, all the while telling me how pathetic my efforts to fight him were as he stepped toward me at a leisurely pace. When he had reached me, I tried to stab him in the optics with my swords... But he just _caught_ them in his servos and crushed them like nothing. And before I knew it, I had been sent flying back by a kick, picked up by the neck, and... Well, had a gaping hole in my tank," I paused and looked at my tank, where I knew Megatron had shot me with his Fusion Cannon at point-blank range.

After my pause continued for a moment, Arcee slowly shook her helm. "You... Fragging... _Dumbass_," she said, combining human and Cybertronian curses as she gave me a disapproving look.

I looked at her in surprise. She had never used that tone with me before. Ever. "What?" Is all I can ask, still startled by the tone she was using and the look she was giving me.

The femme who captured my spark gave me a hard look, something I hadn't seen her give me very often. "You tried to fight _Megatron_. On the ground. One on one. Without even trying to take a defensive position," she leaned over and Gibbs slapped the back of my helm, then leaned back in her previous position and resumed giving me a hard look. "You _dumbaft_. You don't engage Megatron in single combat, there's a reason why he's the Decepticon leader, and it's because he outclasses everyone except Optimus. "

"Yeah, I kind of found that out the hard way," I replied evenly, not sure whether to be hurt that she was angry with me, or amused by her reaction, though I was leaning toward amused. "But, I also didn't have a choice in the matter. He would have executed me right then and there, regardless if I had surrendered, and Jetfire and Springer would have suffered the same fate. At least I had a chance of living if I tried fighting him, I admittedly had no chance of defeating him, but at least Springer, Jetfire, and I are still online."

"That is true," Arcee conceded. "And that more than makes up for almost getting yourself... Offlined..." She trailed off, as if stopping herself from continuing down that train of thought, that or making sure she didn't say something else. Curious...

"That it does, Arcee," Optimus agreed, either ignoring or not seeing her change of mood. He looked back at me after speaking to the pink and blue femme. "And that act should be commended," he said with praise, making me shift uncomfortably at the compliment before he asked, "What happened after Megatron... Injured you?"

"He tried to wield the weapons of the Thirteen," I answered. "He started with trying to wield the Star Saber, which is likely one of the other piles of dust near Ratchet. And when it crumbled at his touch, he tried to take the Omni Saber, which also is most likely one of those piles of dust. Once that became dust as well, he tried Solus' Forge. And after the Forge did the same thing as the other two weapons, he touched that a data cylinder... Only it didn't crumble like the weapons. He grabbed that and was about to shoot me when the horde arrived... He took his leave once they showed up."

Optimus seemed intrigued by that part. "We did not know Megatron obtained a data cylinder, Jetfire and Springer assumed it was lost during your return to Earth. Did your creators inform you of what the cylinder contained?"

I shook my helm. "No, they didn't even mention the data cylinder," I responded. "I'd like to think that means they believe the data isn't important to us, or dangerous in Decepticon possession."

"Nevertheless, we will watch Decepticon movements closely. It is better to be prepared for the worst and hope for the best, than expect the best and hope the worst never comes to pass," the Prime said, looking like he was in thought at the same time. "But, there is something I find unusual about Megatron's behavior."

"And what is that?" I asked.

"He is not one to run away from a fight. If he fled this... Horde, as you and Jetfire have referred to them, then there must have been a great number of them." Optimus answered.

I nodded. "Yes, yes there were many. Did Jetfire and Springer tell you about the cavern we were in at the time?" I asked, then continued at the Prime's nod. "There were too many to count, but one wall was covered as far as I could see with those Cybertronians."

Optimus blinked. "That is... Alarming."

"It certainly was at the time," I said. "The only reason I am still here is because of the AI I assume Jetfire told you about, Refit. He used some sort of drone to project a shield between Jetfire, Springer, and I, and the horde, keeping us safe from immediate danger. There were other drones there as well, and he was using one as an avatar. He said he had led the horde there, in order to drive off Megatron."

"A risky plan. If the odd Cybertronians you encountered hadn't been successful is causing Megatron to flee, then you all would have been offlined by them," Ratchet commented.

"Then let us be glad that this Refit's plan was successful," Optimus said, briefly looking over his shoulder-joint at Ratchet, then looking back at me. "What happened after that?"

I shrugged. "Not really sure, I fell into stasis after that. But according to the Thirteen, Refit used the drones I told you about to convert the platform we were on into an escape pod, then launched it back to Earth. I don't know any of the details on how he managed to do that, though."

"The details do not matter. You and the others were returned to Earth safely, that is all that matters," Optimus said, then looked at the area of the wall that he set Solus' Forge against. "And not only were you returned safely, but you were also sent back with technology of the Ancients, which will be used to great effect, both on the battlefield, and as tools to provide our energon needs." He looked back at me, his optics holding no small amount of approval. "Now that you have filled in the blanks, I can say for certain that you and the others did well on the station, Shadowstreaker."

"Then why do I still feel like slag?" I asked, mostly in jest.

The corner of the Prime's mouth twitched upward in a smile. "The fact you recently onlined from stasis lock likely have something to do with that," he said. "Now that the blanks in Jetfire and Springer's reports have been filled, I must take my leave. Your early onlining was not expected, and I am now behind on my duties. I wish you a fast recovery, Shadowstreaker," with that, he turned and started to walk toward the med-bay door.

Immediately realizing that our conversation hadn't covered one issue, I shifted on my medical berth so that I could look at Optimus' retreating backplates. "Wait, Optimus," I said, causing the Prime to come to a halt and look back at me. "I assume at least Jetfire told you about the name Refit referred to me as."

Optimus nodded. "He did. He also informed me that you said a being briefly spoke to you. Would you please clarify what you meant by that?"

I nodded. "I will, but later. You said it yourself that you are behind on your duties, I just wanted to ask if you have any idea what that name might possibly mean. So, do you?"

The Prime sighed lightly, and a thoughtful look crossed his faceplate. "Shadowstreaker, I have meticulously studied the earliest records we have that are from the Golden Age, consulted with the Matrix of Leadership, and even read into Cybertronian mythology, _none_ of them have any information on the term 'Xel'Tor.' The only information I have discovered, is that 'Xel'Tor' is not a word from any Cybertronian language, or any known language, for that matter."

"So, not only do we not know what it means, but now there is the question of what language Xel'Tor is even from. We know less than we originally did," I summed up, sighing in exasperation at the large amount of questions that had arisen from our trip to the asteroid, with many of them centered around me.

Optimus looked at me calmly. "If we are meant to know, the answer will eventually reveal itself to us in time," he said, repeating his earlier statement as he turned back to the door and stepped forward, causing it to open automatically. "Again, I wish you a fast recovery, Shadowstreaker," he added without turning around to look at me, then was gone after the door closed behind him.

Almost immediately after Optimus left the med-bay, the med-bay door opened again, admitting Jetfire and Springer, who looked like they had just returned from patrol, judging by the occasional grain of sand I saw attached to their armor, a sign they had been on patrol, and then landed to check on something they saw.

The fact that both of them had a few scorch marks on their armor from energy-based weapons, and Jetfire was sporting a slight limp, may have also had something to do with my conclusion that they just returned from patrol.

Both Jetfire and Springer came to a sudden halt when they saw me looking at them, with Jetfire looking pleasantly surprised, and Springer either indifferent or uncomfortable, it was hard to tell.

"You're online early," Jetfire said as he limped over to stand next to my berth, while Springer stood in the doorway of the med-bay.

"Third time someone's told me that since I onlined," I said back. "And going from how the conversations went with the last two who said that, your next question will be how I am online early."

The seeker raised an optic ridge. "No, actually. I _was_ going to ask Ratchet if he could pull out the sliver of molten rock that has managed to lodge itself into my knee-joint during a firefight with a duo of Decepticon drones. Asking how you're online earlier than Ratchet said you would was going to be my second question," he responded flatly, causing Ratchet to step away from the computer and grab a medical kit at his mentioned, yet unspoken, question, and direct Jetfire to the medical berth next to mine, which made it hard to keep looking at Jetfire.

With some effort, and pushing aside a significant amount of extra discomfort, I managed to sit up and lean against the wall, allowing me to look at Jetfire easier, and also be just over optic-level with the rest of my fellow Autobots. "Oh, well. One question off isn't that bad." I said, ignoring the hard glare Ratchet was giving me for moving so soon after I onlined from stasis lock.

Ratchet continued glaring at me for another moment before he grumbled under his breath, removed Jetfire's knee-joint and shin armor, picked up a set of bot-sized tweezers with one servo while he transformed his other into a light, and started looking closely at Jetfire's knee-joint as he began his search for the sliver of rock Jetfire mentioned.

As Ratchet began searching for the offending sliver of rock, Jetfire looked over at me. "So, how is it that you're online early, youngling?"

"The Precursor Protocol you mentioned in your debriefing altered Shadow's CPU, which caused a link to form between Shadow' and the Delphic. According to Ratchet, the link is only partial, incomplete basically. While Shadow' was still in stasis lock, he managed to use the Delphic's energy to speed up his healing process by several cycles, which made him online. And before you ask, no, he can't control the connection, and Ratchet doesn't know how he can access it again, or if any of us can access it. And no, we don't know why the Precursor Protocol formed a link between Shadow' and the Delphic when he can't control it." Arcee said quickly, the look on her faceplate suggesting she didn't want to repeat the same conversation about my new-found link with the Delphic we had gone through it twice already.

But, I still found the speed in which she explained everything to be strange, since that usually meant she was annoyed by someone, or bothered by something. Hmm.

Jetfire blinked at Arcee's long-winded, blunt explanation of what we had found out about the Precursor Protocol, complete with the answers to questions that the seeker was likely going to ask next. The seeker then looked at me. "I get the feeling you've had this exact conversation before."

"Pretty much," I said. "The first thing Optimus and Ratchet asked me when I first onlined was how I wasn't still in stasis lock, so we've essentially had the same conversation twice. Three times, if you count this one."

Jetfire made a humming sound that sounded suspiciously like, 'Huh.' He then opened his mouth to speak, but slammed it shut almost immediately, and snapped his helm to look over at the wall, where my carrier's Forge was resting. "How... How is that here?" He asked, blinking at Solus' Forge in shock. "It wasn't with us when we returned to Earth..."

I smiled at Jetfire's shock. He usually wasn't one to show his emotions as much as this. "I had a relatively short, pointless visit with the Primes while I was in stasis lock. One of the only important things they told me was that their weapons have a safeguard built into them, one that prevents an unworthy bot from wielding them."

"So, the Decepticon that left you in stasis lock tried to wield the weapons we were trying to recover," the seeker concluded, still looking at my carrier's Forge in surprise.

"Got it in one," I replied. "Once I was out of the way, he deactivated the pods the weapons were being contained in, and tried to take them. But, the safeguard activated and they crumbled to dust before Megatron could even pick them up."

That seemed to get Jetfire's attention, since he tore his gaze from my carrier's Forge and looked at me as Ratchet found the sliver of rock in the seeker's knee-joint and used the tweezers to remove it, but Jetfire didn't look at me in surprise, just... Understanding. "You got your aft handed to you, didn't you?" He asked, though it came out more as a statement.

I went silent for a moment, recalling my thoroughly one-sided battle with Megatron. "Yeah, yeah I did," I answered. "I gave him about as much of a challenge as a kitten would give a Mountain Lion..." Actually, I was more like a bug, like Megatron said, that tried to stop an Elephant from stepping forward. I really hadn't been able to do anything to him. He literally had been _walking_ to the platform, and I _still_ didn't even manage to put a dent in him. Saying I was humbled by that, even if I already hated compliments and acknowledging that I do anything well, would be a grave understatement. Now that I really thought about it, it was also demoralizing to me, since when it came down to dealing with the heavy hitters of the Decepticons, I was helpless to stand against them.

"So would I if I face him in combat, youngling," Jetfire said, wincing slightly as Ratchet finished removing the sliver of rock from his knee-joint, and started to apply a gel-like solution that would temporarily boost the repairing abilities of the nanites near his knee-joint, since Jetfire's injury wasn't serious enough to need Ratchet's full attention. "So would anyone except for Optimus."

"I know, but that doesn't make being beaten so badly feel any better," I say. "I mean, hell, I didn't even put a scratch on him before he left me in stasis lock."

"There is not a single one of us that hasn't gotten their aft handed to them at some point in the war," the seeker replied as Ratchet finished applying the gel to his knee-joint and returned the medical kit to its proper place as he went back to the computer.

After Ratchet left him on the medical berth, Jetfire reattached his knee-joint and shin armor and walked over to me, still sporting a slight limp. "You may have gotten your aft kicked, youngling, but you are alive, and that is better than many can say after losing a fight," he said, reaching out and clasping one of my shoulder-joints. "Don't let your loss to Megatron get to you. There will be other times when you lose in battle, perhaps even to lesser-skilled opponents. But instead of thinking about how you failed, think about how you succeeded," he looked at Solus' Forge. "And in this case, you succeeded in three things. One, we prevented the Decepticons from getting weapons of the Thirteen, and now have them ourselves, if I am correct in saying the other two dust heaps are the Star Saber and Omni Saber. Two, Megatron doesn't know we have them. And three, you managed to save my life on that station, as well as Springer's, and I cannot thank you enough for that, youngling." He smiled and nodded at me, then released my shoulder-joint and walked toward the med-bay door. "Get well soon, youngling." And with that last parting, he walked around the corner and was gone.

I stared at where Jetfire was last visible. He was right, of course. Dwelling on a loss wasn't wise. It made you see only the bad, instead of acknowledging anything good. And the three of us did well on the station, of course there were a lot of bad points, such as the horde, not being able to get onto the Infinite Reverence, and falling into stasis lock, but overall we did well. We had a way to get energon without needing to find and hold a deposit of energon, as well as two powerful swords. After I recovered, I want my first mission to be with Optimus, since it would be quite interesting to see how a battle with Decepticons would go with the Star Saber and Omni Saber on our side.

"Was there something you wanted, Springer?" Arcee suddenly asked coldly, pulling me from my thoughts and making me realize Springer was still in the med-bay, in the exact same place he came to a stop when he first saw me.

Springer shifted on his pedes nervously and looked around, clearly trying to formulate a response. After several micro-klicks, he looked at Arcee. "I... Um... I just wanted to say... I'm... Sorry, for all the things I've said to you over the centi-vorns," he said quietly, causing Arcee to rear back in shock, her optics widening. The green Triple-Changer looked at me. "And... Thanks... For saving Jetfire and I..." Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and walked out the med-bay door, heading in the direction Jetfire had just gone.

I was in total shock after Springer left the med-bay. He just..._ Apologized_ to Arcee... And _thanked_ _me!_ I hadn't heard him apologize to _anyone_ since he arrived. At all. And he just said he was sorry about all the things he had said to her! And then there was the fact he thanked me! He hates me with a passion, probably would laugh if I had never onlined from stasis lock, and he just _thanked_ me. That was... Not like him... Maybe someone had been doing some growing up while I was in stasis lock.

"That was... Unexpected," Ratchet said, breaking the silence that had fallen on the three of us following Springer's departure.

Arcee nodded mutely, still staring at the med-bay door. "Yeah... It was," she said slowly. "That... That was the first time he's spoken to me in more than a jour... And it was an apology... That's the last thing I expected to hear from him..."

"Same," I said, tone similar to Arcee's. "He hates me. A lot. And yet, he not only apologizes to you for being an aft for hundreds of vorns, but he thanks me... And I haven't even heard him thank Bulkhead."

"That's because he doesn't normally vocalize it," Ratchet says, seemingly over his shock already as he turned back to the computer and looked through some data pads, likely catching up on reports or going through his notes. "The way he apologizes to, or thanks others is silently, so that makes his words even more unlike his usual behavior."

"That it does," Arcee agreed. "And he meant what he said as well, I could tell."

"Same," I said as Ratchet picked up a data pad, glared at whatever he read, picked up a tool kit, and then walked out of the med-bay, saying something about 'A tech's job never being done' under his breath.

Arcee didn't seem to notice Ratchet leaving, she just kept looking at where Springer had been standing. "Seems he decided to change while you were... You know," she said, trailing off like she had earlier when the topic of me falling into stasis lock was mentioned, and shifting in her chair uncomfortably.

I frowned at how she was suddenly avoiding the topic of how I was in stasis lock, when she was perfectly fine talking about it earlier. "What's bothering you, Arcee?"

"Nothing's bothering me," she answered, a little too quickly for it to have been true.

"I know you too well for that to be true," I say. I moved myself to a right a little and tapped the medical berth next to me. "Come on, tell me what's bothering you."

The blue and pink femme stared blankly where I had tapped the medical berth, then she stood from her chair and got on the medical berth and sat next to me, basically sitting in the exact same position as I was. For a moment, she didn't say anything, just looked ahead, seemingly in thought.

I sat patiently, knowing that she would speak when she was ready.

"I've... I've lost two partners already, Shadow', and I'm not sure how I would take losing a third..." Arcee finally said, tone quiet as she continued to look straight ahead. "Before you said who left you in stasis lock, there was a part of me that thought you had left the other bot in worse shape, that you hadn't gone down without offlining the one who put you down... But after I found out you fought Megatron, and he was the one who left you in stasis lock, the realization about how easily you could have offlined kinda hit me hard," she seemed to be getting upset as she talked, though she was hiding it well. "You know, with everything I've seen in this war, I thought I was past being scared, but apparently I'm not. That can't be healthy for me, can it?"

"It is, actually," I reply, only barely managing to keep a normal tone in my voice. This side of Arcee was just so... Unlike her. "It means you care, feel concern about loosing your friends. When we become numb to the passings of friends and those close to us, we really do become machines, just as we appear to organics," feeling a wave a confidence, I gave Arcee a serious look. "Don't you _ever_ lose the fear of losing friends, Arcee, because that will mean you've totally lost hope that you'll ever see the future we're all fighting for."

Arcee focused her attention on me, puzzlement and something else filling her optics. "And what future are we fighting for, Shadow?" She asked, not bitterly or sadly, like that question was usually asked, but with a curious tone. She wanted to know where I was taking this.

I paused for a long moment, thinking about everything that had happened in the last jour, before deciding on a response. "We're fighting for the future where Cybertron is in a new Golden Age, where all Cybertronians enjoy true freedom, where there is peace between the Autobots and the Decepticons, where all those that have fallen victim to this war can truly be laid to rest, where we all have settled down, raised our families, and passed down the knowledge of how this war started, so that the generation that comes after us never lets it happen again."

The femme who captured my spark looked at me for a long time, then smiled in amusement. "That was one of the most cliche answers I have ever heard," she said with a chuckle, the look in her optics completely unreadable.

I put my servos up defensively. "Hey, I was put on the spot, I had to come up with something," I joked, smiling almost purely because Arcee was back to joking. "And it just so happens that I have watched_ way_ too many movies where the main character makes a speech like that, so I just went with it."

Arcee and I shared another chuckle, and then fell into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other's company. And for a moment, the urge to tell her how I felt rose in my spark, but it soon died, the moment for confessions feeling like it had passed.

"So," I said, breaking the short silence Arcee and I had fallen in and looking at her again. "What did I miss while I was out?"

Arcee smiled at my question. "Well... You missed a lot," she started, before we began a conversation that would go on for a long while, it felt like.

Neither of us noticed, or felt, my servo move almost of its own accord and lay on top of Arcee's smaller one, whose own servo almost instinctively turned over slightly and gripped my larger one.

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><p><strong>What can I say? My muse demanded fluff in <em>some<em> form, so I ended it like that, and my muse is now satisfied. Lol.  
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**Now, I know that some of you are getting annoyed with how Arcee and Shadowstreaker haven't gotten together yet, but have faith, fluff _will_ come! Haha. I have a plan for them getting together, and it has already been set in motion, it is now only a matter of time, so please be patient.**

**One final thing, I am issuing a challenge for myself. I want to speed up the rate in which I write, so I am challenging myself to get my chapter up at least two or three days faster than I got this one up. If I don't succeed, I am sorry in advance.**

**This chapter's credit song is "Red - As You Go" The lyrics of this song can be interpreted in several ways, and a fluff-oriented song is one of them. It very well with how I ended the chapter, to me at least.  
><strong>

**************So, please be sure to leave a review and thanks for reading. I'll see you soon.**************


	30. Out of the Med Bay

**Hey, now, just twenty-two days since my last update, that's only one day later than what I had been shooting for when I posted my last chapter. But I don't think I am going to set deadlines for myself anymore, because I found that when I set a deadline and keep thinking about said deadline, I don't write. At all. So from now on, I think I will just focus on writing and having fun, instead of trying to write as fast as possible, since that makes me a lot more productive in my writing. :)**

**Thanks go to everyone who reviewed last chapter, as well as those who have Fate Calls favorited or are following it. I can't tell you all how much it means to me that you find this story worth reading, and continue to do so. :)**

**And also, Fate Calls is now up to sixty favorites. Why is that noteworthy, you ask? Because for some reason I find that it sounds better than fifty favorites. Lol. Again, thank you all for favoriting, reading, and reviewing. :)**

**********Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.**********

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><p><strong>May 24, 2013 2:01 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

"Oh, come on, kid, you can do better than that!" Bulkhead goaded as he easily took the right hook I gave him, slamming his two clear, gel-filled punching pads together. "Come on, put your weight into the next one!"

More than a jour had passed since I onlined from stasis lock, and during that time, a number of things had changed around the base, and most of them were due to Optimus' use of my carrier's Forge.

Unlike the energon shortage we had been in the middle of when we traveled to the station, we now had eight storage hangers filled with energon, with an entire hanger filled only with high-grade. And on that note, high-grade was fragging _amazing._ The description of high-grade that Ratchet had given me when I first became a Cybertronian didn't do the real thing any justice. If Gold could be a drink, that drink would be high-grade energon. It is far beyond anything I have ever tasted. The downside of that, however, is it makes low-grade and mid-grade taste awful in comparison. But, since we now had the ability to drink half a cube of high-grade every cycle, half the amount it takes to overcharge a Cybertronian, I was perfectly fine with having to drink low-grade and mid-grade most of the time.

Another change Optimus had brought about with the Forge was our base security. Instead of the helical railguns given to us by the S.T.F, there were now four automated Warden anti-air cannons. They, essentially, were Ion Displacers with eighteen barrels, but fired rounds that packed about one-hundred times the destructive power as my own Ion Displacer. Coupling the power of each round along with its insane rate of fire, a single Warden was a threat to everything up to a stealth frigate, though anything beyond that was basically invulnerable to a Warden's firepower. To complement the Wardens' lack of heavy-hitting power, there was a single Nucleon-Fusion Cannon hidden beneath our helicopter pad, which, according to Ratchet, was using the same type of Nucleon that was in the power crystals we recovered from the station, which Optimus created with the Forge. It was capable of destroying the Nemesis in a single hit if the war cruiser had its shields down, and only required two additional hits to destroy Megatron's warship if the vessel had full shielding. In short, our base now had considerable firepower to go along with its anonymity.

Our base also had a more robust cloaking field that not only kept our base invisible to Decepticon sensors, but also kept everything within a thirty kilometer radius of us to also be shielded by our cloak. Basically, the Decepticons wouldn't be able to detect any of our communications channels or life signals even if we were ten kilometers beyond the limits of Jasper. A very useful upgrade, especially if we ever needed to expand the size of our base, or had to construct something that wouldn't fit indoors.

Finally, our ground bridge had been completely overhauled into a space bridge. Due to the limited room we had to deal with, it wasn't as powerful as the ancient space bridges orbiting Cybertron, or even the ones the Decepticons had created by reverse engineering the original space bridges, but it had the range to get us anywhere within about two-hundred thousand light-years, essentially making the Large Magellanic Cloud our space bridge's limit. We had yet to travel off world, however, because we had no cause to do so. Still, it was good to have the option of doing so.

I shook my helm in response to Bulkhead's statement. "The last time I 'Put my weight into the next one,' I ended up reopening my wounds, and set my recovery back by two mega-cycles." I said, referring to an incident just under two mega-cycles ago where he had helped me with training, and I pushed myself too far and started leaking energon from my tank. Ratchet had laid into me for doing that, and hit me over the helm with a wrench multiple times while he re-repaired my wounds. And technically speaking, I still wasn't cleared to even be out of the med-bay. The only reason I was training with Bulkhead right now was because Ratchet was out on a mission with Optimus, investigating an unusual energy reading, from what I heard. And the only reason I even had the option of training with Bulkhead was because Miko had the a twenty-four breem flu, and had stayed at her host parent's home, with Bulkhead allowing one of the covert S.T.F teams assigned back in October as extra security for the kids to watch her while he trained with me.

"Den why are ya even trainin'?" Jazz asked from where he was causally lounging on the top rope of the sparring ring, somehow managing to use the single rope as a hammock. "Kinda counta productive ta train an not try ta push yourself."

I blocked two light jabs from Bulkhead before I shrugged. "I don't know. Guess I'm just fed up with being confined to the med-bay and not being able to do anything except stare at the ceiling. And besides, after the aft-kicking I was given by Megatron, it can't hurt to train and sharpen my skills a bit," I answered, then faked a left jab and threw a right uppercut at Bulkhead.

"I hear that," Bulkhead said as he blocked my uppercut and hit my side with a left cross, clearly pulling his punches since I barely felt his fist impact. "When I was injured in one of the last battles of Tagan Heights, I was out of the fight for more than a jour. I felt like my gears were rusted by the time I was cleared for duty. I had to train for a mega-cycle before I really felt like I was back to one-hundred percent."

"What happened to you that you were out for a jour?" I asked, surprised that Bulkhead had ever been out of the fight for more than a mega-cycle or two. "You're definitely not one for patience, it must have been something serious."

Strangely, Jazz laughed at my statement. "Yea, it was_ real_ serious," he said sarcastically. "He tripped on a pipe an fell into a industrial waste pit, cut himself up on a piece of metal and got infected with bad energon." The saboteur glanced over at the Wrecker. "Ya made a fool of yourself dat cycle, Bulky."

I blinked at Jazz for a moment, disbelieving that Bulkhead managed to be that clumsy on the battlefield. After I moment, I looked at the Wrecker. "How the _hell_ did you manage to do that?"

Bulkhead shrugged sheepishly. "Yeah... It really wasn't my cycle..."

I chuckled and shook my helm, quickly going back to my causal spar with the Wrecker. "Wow, that tops Jack for stupidest moment of the orbital-cycle." I joked, then ducked under the jab Bulkhead threw at my helm for my comment.

"Hey, that doesn't count for stupidest moment of the orbital-cycle. That was way back during the beginning of the war," Bulkhead argued as he threw another jab that I dodged. A confused look suddenly crossed his face. "Wait, what did Jack do that gave him the title of stupidest moment of the orbital-cycle?"

"You know that Left 4 Dead game Miko played with you the cycle before we detected the station?" I asked in turn, ducking under another jab Bulkhead threw while he nodded at the same time. "Well, he threw a Pipe Bomb at a Tank and managed to down himself."

Bulkhead looked at for a moment, his optics sparkling with humor. "Are you serious? How'd even _do_ that? I hadn't even played the game before Miko dragged me into it, and I never managed to kill myself with my own Pipe Bomb."

I shrugged and threw a hook at Bulkhead, which he easily blocked. "I don't know, but it was entertaining to see."

"Ah'll bet," Jazz said. "It' always funny ta see a friend fail." He looked at Bulkhead, his visor likely hiding an amused look in his optics. "Like seein' a fully grown mech trip over a pipe."

Bulkhead gave the saboteur a sour look and dropped his gloves to his side, ignoring the light jab I landed on his helm for not paying attention. "It was hidden under debris! How was I supposed to see it?" He asked in an irritated, yet amused, tone.

"Ah don' know, how 'bout lookin' down?" Jazz joked.

The Wrecker shook his helm and went back to sparring with me. "Laugh it up, Jazz."

The saboteur grinned. "Thanks, Ah am."

"Stupid all-seeing saboteurs..." Bulkhead mumbled as he threw a hook at my helm, which I dodged.

"We also have these things called 'Audio receptors.' Real useful for hearin' bots insult ya," Jazz said, still grinning as he adjusted his position on the rope.

"Oh, shut up, Jazz. I'm trying to fight here," Bulkhead said, smiling despite an angry tone in his voice.

"Tryin' bein' da key word. Ya haven' landed a punch on Shadowster' for a klick. Ah'm startin' ta think ya can' even beat a cripple in combat," the saboteur teased, causing the Wrecker to throw punches at me at a more rapid pace, albeit with no extra force behind them.

I chuckled at Jazz's continued harassing of Bulkhead as I dodged or blocked the Wrecker's punches, or occasionally took one I couldn't avoid or deflect. "To be fair to Bulkhead, Jazz, you would take it easy on the cripple as well." I said, not bothering to deny that I was a cripple because, well, I technically was by our standards, since I still wasn't cleared for actual combat.

"True. After everything Ah went through in Spec Ops trainin', Ah can' _not_ be extra careful when Ah spar with the walkin' casualties of da Doc Bot's med-bay. Ah've been through too many spars with one of my servos in a sling." Jazz said.

I gave the saboteur a curious look, while at the same time doing the best I could to dodge Bulkhead's attacks. "Is Spec Ops training really that unforgiving? You have to spar even when your servo needs a sling?"

Jazz nodded. "Oh, yeah. Ah found out da hard way dat Spec Ops trainin' doesn' stop just 'cause ya busted your servo. If anythin', da instructors were harder on ya when ya got injured," he said. "Made it real hard ta get through trainin'. But, in da the end, it was worth all da pain. It taught me ta fight through anythin', an get da job done. It also taught me how ta break dance before Ah came ta Earth, but dat's another story."

"That sounds... Brutal," I said as I threw two quick jabs at Bulkhead. "I am guessing there weren't a lot of graduates from Spec Ops."

"No, notta lot of us completed trainin'," Jazz replied. "'Bout one in fifty recruits got a chance ta go ta Spec Ops trainin'. An out of those dat got in, only one in 'bout six graduated."

"That's a lower number of successes than the human Green Berets," I observed, having once watched some kind of special on the Discovery Channel about the Special Forces. I had no idea how accurate that special was, though, so maybe I was wrong. "Besides you, do you think any bots on Earth could get through that training?"

The saboteur went silent for a few moments, clearly pondering my question as Bulkhead and I sparred. "Ah'd say there are a few, yeah," he eventually said. "Arcee, Ironhide, and Prowler would get threw it without too many problems. Arcee 'cause she'... Well, Arcee. Ironhide 'cause he could just power through da trainin'. And Prowler 'cause he' already at the mental state of a Spec Ops soldier. But besides those three, Ah don' think there are any other bots on Earth dat could get through da trainin'."

"What? You're just gonna leave Springer and I out? I'm insulted," Bulkhead said, tone suggesting he was only teasing and not actually mad.

"Da Wreckers might have been black ops, but Spec Ops is completely different from da Wreckers, Bulky," Jazz said. "In da Wreckers, your job is ta be a walkin' tank, ta take massive amounts of fire, an dish out twice as much as ya take. In Spec Ops, you do a lot more sneakin', and a lot less shootin'. Da Wreckers are da hammer of Autobot black ops, but Spec Ops is da knife. Dat type of work is a lot more sensitive than bein' a walkin' tank, an a lot more difficult ta teach."

"I can't deny that. We Wreckers are always at the front of the battle, never at the back. It would be hard to pound that mentality out of a Wrecker," Bulkhead admitted as he landed light hook on my faceplate, which happened to be the twentieth punch he landed, making him the victor. "That's match, kid. Want a rematch?" He asked, smiling as he slammed his gloves together.

Having been down here for at least half a breem, and most of our missions lasted roughly that time, I shook my helm and took off my gloves. "No, better get back to the med-bay before Ratchet gets back and tears off my helm," I tossed my gloves to Jazz, who had been waiting to spar with Bulkhead when I came down here. "I'll talk to you two later."

"See ya around, Shadowster'," Jazz said as he put on the gloves I had just given to him. "Good luck with da Doc Bot."

"You'll need it," Bulkhead added with a chuckle as he and Jazz started circling each other.

I acknowledged their words by waving without looking at them as I stepped into the elevator. And once I was in the elevator, I pressed the button for ground level and waited for the elevator to arrive.

After a short ride, the elevator arrived at ground level, and I stepped out and walked toward the med-bay. With luck, I would get back to the med-bay before Ratchet and Optimus returned.

Unfortunately, I wasn't that lucky.

"Freeze, dumbaft!" Ratchet's voice suddenly called from behind me, causing me to come to an abrupt halt, with the wrench the white and red medic apparently threw hitting the back of my helm a moment later. "You snuck out of the med-bay and went down to the Safe again! Even after what happened to you last time!" He stomped into my field of vision, another wrench already in his servo. "I knew I should have chained you down before I left! You're just like the twins when it comes to following my instructions!"

"Only when those instructions are needless, and involve staying in the exact same spot for more than a jour," I said, sounding braver than I felt. Those wrenches _really_ hurt. "I mean really, I've been cooped up in the med-bay since I onlined from stasis lock, and I have barely even gotten the chance to get off the damn medical berth. And besides, I feel fine, not one-hundred percent, but fine enough to stay in my own quarters, at least. I don't need to keep taking up room in there when I can walk again and take part in some light training."

"Pft,_ light_ training," Ratchet scoffed. "With you, there is no such thing as light training. You're lucky you haven't reopened your wounds by going down into the Safe... Again."

"I learned my lesson the first time I reopened my wounds, Ratchet. I'm not going to be stupid and do the same thing twice. I actually _want_ to recover," I said. "If I promise to only train twice a mega-cycle, and only with either you or Moonracer present, will you finally release me from the med-bay? I am honestly about to be driven insane with all the time I spend in there..."

The white and red medic looked at me for a micro-klick, then sighed. "Fine. You're released."

I blinked in surprise. "Wait, are you being serious right now?" I asked, disbelieving that my plea actually worked, and expecting this to be a trick of some sort on Ratchet's part. Maybe he was going to sedate me when I turned my backplates...

Ratchet nodded, looking slightly annoyed. "Yes, Shadowstreaker, I'm serious. You're free to roam the base, but no training without Moonracer or I present, and you still aren't cleared for combat, so you're restricted to the base."

I studied the white and red medic's faceplate for a few moments, trying to determine if he was lying or not, then smiled lightly when I found no trace of deceit. "Understood, Ratchet. I'll make sure not to leave the base." With that, I turned around and walked down the hallway, relieved that I finally was free of the med-bay.

For a while, I walked without a direction, just enjoying the fact I was free to do so without having to sneak out of the med-bay, but eventually, I needed a destination. And since I couldn't train, and didn't feel like going to my quarters, the rec room was the logical choice. So, I continued walking in the same direction I already was, but this time with a destination planned.

About a klick after Ratchet officially freed me from the med-bay, I arrived at the rec room door and stepped inside when the door automatically opened for me.

As I walked into the rec room, I noticed that Flareup, Chromia, and Elita were relaxing on two of the couches in the back right corner of the room, each causally holding a cube of energon.

Chromia glanced over at me as I entered the room. "You're a little far from the med-bay," she said, not in a condescending statement like her words easily could have been used as, but in an amused one. "Did you sneak out of Ratchet and Moonracer's domain again?"

"Yes, I actually did," I replied as I stepped over to the energon dispenser on the opposite side of the room from the three femmes, grabbed an empty cube, and started filling it with low-grade. "But Ratchet also just cleared me from the med-bay, so I don't even have to sneak anymore."

Chromia raised her optic ridges. "He finally cleared you for the field?"

I shook my helm as my cube finished filling up and I took a sip. "No, I am still only allowed on base, and I can only train with Ratchet or Moonracer present." I sighed, disappointed that I was still confined to base, but also still happy that I was no longer stuck in the med-bay. "But, at least it's progress."

"A little progress is still progress, and all progress toward recovery is good," Elita said, sounding like a femme version of Optimus, which she effectively was, seeing as she was the commander of her own unit. She raised her cube of energon, which caused the other two femmes to raise their own cubes. "To your full recovery, Shadowstreaker," she then proceeded to take a sip from her cube, with Chromia and Flareup quickly following her example.

I returned the gesture and took a sip from my own cube. "So, what are you three doing in here?" I asked. "Talking? Or just relaxing?"

"Talking," Chromia answered. "The three of us were just reminiscing over the Second Battle of Tyger Pax."

I gave her a confused look. I had read a number of historical data pads about the war, and none of them mentioned there being a second battle at Tyger Pax, just entries about the first one, where Bumblebee lost his voice box. "What do you mean? There was a second battle at Tyger Pax? I thought there was only one."

"No, that's because the first battle was much more well-known, and Bumblebee's actions there were quite heroic," Flareup said, obviously completely oblivious of the fond tone in her voice when she briefly spoke of Bumblebee. "So yes, there was two battles at Tyger Pax, and the second was, in many ways, more important than the first."

"And how was it more important?" I asked, taking a sip from my cube as I looked at Flareup. The First Battle of Tyger Pax had been a critical point in the war on Cybertron. It was the first large-scale conflict where the Decepticons had taken many times the amount of casualties as the Autobots, and they had outnumbered the defending Autobot forces by a fifty to one ratio before the first shot had even been fired.

The battle started with the Decepticons arriving to annex the city for the war effort, as Tyger Pax was second only to Kaon in industrial might, and with access to far greater amounts of energon and rare metals. But they didn't intend for a peaceful annexation,as Tyger Pax was a city that firmly supported the Autobots. Megatron had bombed the city first, dropping megatons of ordinance from orbit onto the city, and any civilian bots that were foolish enough to step outside, reducing the Autobot troops stationed in Tyger Pax from the tens-of-thousands, to the hundreds. By all accounts, the battle should have been over at that, but it had only just begun. In a mixture of guerrilla-style warfare and clever use of the city's layout to lure enemies into false dead ends or ambushes, the Autobot forces fought the Decepticons, buying time for countless civilian bots to evacuate before the Decepticons finally annexed the city. Bumblebee had been a hero of the battle, even managing to keep Megatron's attention on him as many of his fellow Autobots fell back after they were nearly overrun, but the price for his distraction of Megatron was his voice box. A heavy price, but was very vocal in his defense of his actions.

... I feel bad for even _thinking_ of that unintentional pun.

"Because the Second Battle of Tyger Pax was when we Autobots retook the city from Megatron, and secured resources that allowed us to continue the war indefinitely," Chromia said, answering my question intended for Flareup. "And we were at the center of the entire operation."

I raised both of my optic ridges. "Okay, this I need to hear," I said, stepping a bit closer to the three femmes and leaning against the wall. "Begin wherever you feel is appropriate."

All three femmes got thoughtful looks on their faceplates, but it was Elita who looked back at me first. "It was decided that Tyger Pax was too valuable to leave in Megatron's servos, as he would have possessed the two largest industrial cities on Cybertron, and we were already in desperate need of resources. The problem was Megatron knew we would counter attack, and he had his legions of engineers rebuild the majority of the city, turned most of the buildings into fortresses, and armed each of them with anti-ship Warp Cannons, which could easily be turned on any invading ground force. We had enough ships to destroy the Warp Cannons from orbit, but the Decepticons would have been able to shoot down many of them before our ships would have been in within range of their own weapons. However, without the Warp Cannons, the Decepticon troops had no way of defending against an orbital attack, or an attack in mass from the ground."

"So, Optimus and his advisers came up with a plan for how to destroy the Warp Cannons without sacrificing half our fleet," Chromia said, interrupting Elita's story without really interrupting her, a trait many siblings picked up when they were close.

"And what was the plan?" I asked.

"A small team would infiltrate Tyger Pax from below, using an old ore pipeline that had sustained damage during the first battle," Elita answered, retaking control of the story for the moment. "Optimus put me in charge of the team, and gave me data pads containing lists of potential femmes and mechs for the mission."

"She wasted nearly an entire cycle just studying those things, even had Prime get more for her," Chromia said, again interrupting without really interrupting. "Although, I personally think that she did that just to spend a bit more time with our prestigious leader." She added smugly.

Elilta glared at her sister, but didn't confirm or deny her statement as she looked back at me. "After careful consideration, I picked the team that would accompany me. Flareup, Chromia, a mech you haven't met called Mirage, Jazz, Arcee, and myself. Flareup for her... Explosive talents, which were needed for a mission such as that. Chromia for her heavy weapons, which would be good to have in case the infiltration mission became an assault. Mirage because he was an infiltrator equipped with a cloak, and had been practically built for that mission. Jazz for his sabotage techniques. And Arcee for her close quarters combat abilities, as well as her marksmanship."

Making a mental note to ask Arcee and Jazz for more details about this mission later, as well as ask Arcee why she had never told me about this before, I asked, "So, how did the mission start?"

"We traveled through the ore pipeline while the sun was up, and waited inside until darkness fell," Elita replied. "Once we had the cover of night, we left the pipeline and began moving through the streets and alleys of Tyger Pax, planting charges on energon stations as we went. It didn't take the six of us long to reach a fortress, and it took even less time for Flareup to plant the demolition charges at its base, but it also took just as much time for us to nearly blow the mission."

"I am going to take a guess and say a Decepticon patrol saw you," I said, taking another sip from my cube.

"You're right... And it was kinda my fault," Flareup said, rubbing the back of her helm sheepishly as she looked down at the floor, away from the optics of Arcee's sisters and I.

"What happened exactly?" I asked.

Elita sipped from her cube and looked back at me. "While Flareup was planting her demolition charges, the rest of us were patrolling the area around her, on the lookout for Decepticon patrols. We were all on a secure communications channel, so if one of us saw any Decepticons heading our way, we all knew immediately. So, when Mirage said a pair of Decepticon engineers were approaching, we all dropped what we were doing and found a place to hide as quickly as possible," she explained. "However, Flareup had to hide near the Warp Cannon itself, since she had been planting explosives on it, and that meant her options for hiding spaces were very limited at the best, and all of them were terribly obvious. So, without any real place to conceal her presence, Flareup hide behind her best option. The control panel for the Warp Cannon... Let's just say the Decepticons saw her."

Flareup buried her faceplate in her servos in obvious embarrassment. "Yes... Let's..." She said, cooling fans activating loudly enough for me to hear them clearly.

Elita smiled at Flareup's embarrassment, but didn't comment on her behavior. "After Flareup was discovered, the Decepticons went to activate the alarm. They almost made it, too, if it wasn't for Jazz and Mirage ambushing and offlining them. We were more careful after that, always making sure we were near places to conceal ourselves at a moment's notice."

"Did you have any more close calls like that?" I asked.

"Yeah, but considering there were over one-hundred Warp Cannons we had to disable, that was to be expected, along with a lot of stealth combat. Arcee had to create distractions for us a few times, like rigging a grenade to an ordnance pile so it looked like a faulty shell had gone off and taken out the entire depot," Chromia said. "But despite our close calls, and the amount of energon we coated our knives in, particularly Arcee's, we managed to plant charges on all the Warp Cannons before the sunrise."

"If only just," Elita said, adding onto Chromia's statement smoothly. "The night sky was more red than black when Flareup finished planting charges on the last Warp Cannon. But, after we finished planting charges, we had it pretty easy from then on. We got to a safe distance from the fortresses we rigged, and detonated the charges."

"I bet seeing all those Warp Cannons blow up was quite the sight," I said, mostly just voicing my own thoughts.

Flareup nodded slowly. "It was... It really was..." She said with a distant, sad look in her optics, as if she had been brought to tears at the sight of so much destruction. "So much fire..."

I widened my optics slightly at Flareup's words. "Okay... That wasn't scary or anything..."

The orange and red femme shook her helm, as if to bring herself out of a trance. "Huh? Sorry, I tend to get a bit excited about explosions... It's probably unhealthy," she said, rubbing the back of her helm like she did earlier. "Miko's been helping me, though. She's been showing me pictures of these things called kittens. Real nice, fluffy organics. They've been helping with keeping me distracted from thinking of explosions."

"I would suggest looking at more kittens," I said flatly, still somewhat unsure of what to think about what she said a moment ago.

"Anyway," Chromia said, thankfully getting the topic on track. "After we blew the Warp Cannons, Optimus came in with the 5th Fleet, rolled over the Decepticon ships in orbit, and had more than a quarter of a million Autobots on the ground within twenty klicks, while the six of us got a front row seat to the whole thing. And within a breem, we had overrun the Decepticon forces within Tyger Pax and replaced the Warp Cannons we had just destroyed with our own. And for the rest of the war, Tyger Pax was an Autobot territory."

"And you three, along with Arcee and Jazz, were part of the reason it was even possible," I said, raising cube like Elita had done earlier and taking another sip from it. "I can't believe I've never heard of that battle."

Elita shrugged. "It was more of a rout, the Decepticons didn't really put up much of a fight. And Optimus' massive counter-attack proved that we could face the Decepticons on even ground. But many still tend to only take note of the First Battle of Tyger Pax, probably because it showed to many bots that numbers weren't important in battle."

"True," I said. "My former race is the same way. For example, many humans know what the Battle of Thermopylae is only because of how bravely the smaller faction side fought against such overwhelming numbers. But, many of those same humans do _not_ know that the smaller faction lost that battle, or even know about the Battle of Plataea that occurred the following orbital-cycle."

Flareup looked at me curiously. "What is the Battle of Thermopylae?" She asked, apparently voicing the same question that Elita and Chromia were thinking of, since they also looked at me curiously.

"It is one of the more famous battles in human history," I answered. "The aggressors were the Persian Empire, who sought to subjugate the small country of Greece. They had planned for the invasion for orbital-cycles, gathering what would be one of the largest armies and navies in ancient human history. The faction that stood against them were the Greeks themselves, who were hopelessly outnumbered by the Persians. But, while they were gravely outnumbered, the Greeks still had the advantage of having the greatest warriors in human history on their side."

"And who were they?" Chromia asked, sipping from her cube without looking away from me.

"The Spartans," I replied. "They were a warrior society. If a child was found to be deformed or weak, they killed them. And if they were found to be fit, then at the age of seven orbital-cycles, all male children were taken from their families and began military training until the age of twenty orbital-cycles. Though, many died in the training, due to the brutal methods in which they were trained, and the incredibly high expectations that were imposed on them. But those that survived were quite simply the greatest warriors humanity has ever seen. It is universally accepted by human historians that a single Spartan warrior was worth several men from any other nation. They made war an art."

Flareup put a disgusted look on her faceplate. "They murdered their own children if they were found unfit? That's horrible..."

"I never said they were a society to look up to, only that they were the best warriors in human history," I said, before returning to my story. "Anyway, the events leading up to the Battle of Thermopylae were pretty straight-forward, the Persian Empire invaded Greece, took over a few cities, and began a steady advance to the other side of Greece. But, early on into their invasion, the Persians hit a wall."

Elita raised an optic ridge. "A wall?" She asked. "That does not sound like much of an obstacle."

I shook my helm. "No, no, not at actual wall. That was a figure of speech," I said. "Thermopylae was a narrow passage near the Mediterranean Sea, a large body of water in that part of Earth. It was a naturally occurring choke point, less than one-hundred meters wide at its most narrow point, and the Persians needed to pass through it in order to continue their invasion. The Greek army, led by King Leonidas I, numbered only seven-thousand, and the Persian army numbered as much as two-hundred thousand. So, Leonidas came up with a plan to make the Persian number irrelevant, and that plan was to defend the pass at Thermopylae. The fighting lasted only three solar-cycles, but in that time, the Greeks killed more than twenty-thousand Persians, while losing only a tenth of that number. However, a local by the name of Ephialtes betrayed the Greeks by revealing a path to the Persians that would allow them to get behind the Greek lines and attack them from both sides. King Leonidas figured out his forces were about to be flanked, so he dismissed the majority of his army, and stayed behind with only fourteen-hundred of his men to continue holding Thermopylae. Most of them were killed, and the battle was lost, but the fact they stood against such a massive army, and kept them at bay for three solar-cycles, has ensured that it is well-known to most humans."

"I am not surprised, holding back such a large force with so few is an impressive feat," Chromia said. "But, going by how you said the Battle of Plataea is far less well-known, I am guessing it was less climatic, correct?"

"It was," I confirmed, taking another sip from my cube, which was nearly empty. "The Greeks won the Battle of Plataea decisively, killing a quarter of a million Persians and their allies, while only losing roughly ten-thousand of their own. It was more a slaughter than a battle. And, as a result, it is not as interesting to most humans as the final stand of King Leonidas and his Spartans, even though the Battle of Plataea was the point where the Persian invasion was completely and totally broken. It is similar to how the Second Battle of Tyger Pax is not as well-known as the first, despite it being more important in the long-run."

Elita nodded. "I can definitely see the similarities. Fortunately, there were more survivors of the initial Battle of Tyger Pax than there were at the Battle of Thermopylae," she said. "But there are even more similarities with the Battle of Plataea and the Second Battle of Tyger Pax, as they both were far more important in the long-run, and both were routs."

"Indeed," I agreed, frowning when I went to take a sip from my cube and found it empty. "Well, I think I'm going to go, if you don't mind. I still haven't replaced the weapons I lost to Megatron, so I think I will go search for your sparkmate so he can help me pick out some replacements," I said, directing the last part of my statement at Chromia as I put my empty cube near the energon dispenser and started walking to the door.

Chromia chuckled. "He's in our quarters. I'll let him know you're coming."

"Thanks," I said over my shoulder-joint. "It was nice talking to you three, see you around," I added as I stepped out the door, just catching farewells from the three femmes before it automatically closed behind me.

After the door closed, I started walking in the direction of the quarters Ironhide and Chromia shared, which were in one of the areas of the base that hadn't existed until the S.T.F expanded it back in November. I still was surprised Arcee had never told me about her involvement in the Second Battle of Tyger Pax. I thought I knew of every battle she had taken part in, but I evidently did not. It was also somewhat surprising she hadn't told me about it at all. After all, she had told me all about her previous battles whenever I asked or when a battle she had taken part in was brought up, so it was unusual that she had never mentioned the Second Battle of Tyger Pax when we have talked about Tyger Pax several times in the past.

'Of course, we've never talked about the Battle of Tyger Pax, just about the city itself. Doesn't really give her any reason to talk about the second battle,' I thought. And since we've never talked about the battle itself, there really wasn't a point to bringing it up in the middle of a conversation. And Arcee was a lot like me in regards of humility, never liking to be in the limelight, and not liking to share stories that painted her as an important figure. And she had been in the middle of the op that made the victory at the Second Battle of Tyger Pax possible, so I guess it made sense that she never talked about it.

I pushed my thoughts aside, since I realized I was approaching Ironhide and Chromia's quarters.

Seeing the red light on the control panel that signaled it was locked, I raised my servo and knocked on the door.

"Hold on a micro-klick, kid, I'll open it for ya." Came Ironhide's immediate answer to my knock, voice muffled by the door in front of me. A moment later, the light turned green and the door opened automatically, revealing Ironhide standing on the other side, effectively blocking the entire doorway with his massive frame.

The Wrecker officer smiled down at me when the door opened. "So, I hear ya need to replace your cannons."

"Servo weapons, actually. I still have my cannons," I said. "Although, I am never against looking at cannons."

Ironhide laughed. "Then you came to the right place. Come on in," he said, turning around and walking further into the room and allowing me a clear view of the quarters he and Chromia shared.

The room was large, even more so than my own quarters, but that wasn't surprising, given how the room was made for two occupants instead of just one. But despite the extra room, the only pieces of furniture were the berth, which was also larger than the one I had, and a single desk, the rest of the space in Ironhide and Chromia's quarters was taken up by guns..._ Lots_ of guns.

Both sides of the room were literally covered in weapons. Heavy weapons, sniper rifles, grenades, swords, axes, knives, hammers, portable shields similar to the ones Brutes carried, every square inch of the walls had something on it. It was like a mini armory.

"I am sure your sparkmate _loves_ what you've done with your quarters," I stated sarcastically. "It really brightens the place up, makes it nice and friendly."

Ironhide scoffed and pointed his thumb digit over his shoulder-joint at the right side of the room. "That side is all her weapons, mine only take up the other half of the room."

I raised my optic ridges in surprise and looked at the right side of the room, taking note of all the heavy weapons that were well over half of Chromia's size. "She has this many weapons? I thought you'd have more, since she said you took all the Thermo Missile Cannons and Riot Cannons from the armory of the ship you arrived on."

"I stored most of those down in the armory. And besides, the weapons you helped recover from that station are helping me go through fewer cannons," the Wrecker officer replied, tapping the Hydra Cannon, the missile launcher Springer couldn't lift for his life, but Ironhide wielded like a toy, strapped across his backplates. "But even if I stored the majority of my weapons up here, she'd still have a lot more than I do. Most of her weapons are either down in the armory like mine or in the storage hanger across the hall."

I looked at Ironhide in shock. "This is only_ part_ of her collection? There's enough firepower in here to level a city or three."

Ironhide shrugged. "What can I say? My 'Mia loves her weapons," he said, then gestured to the left side of the room and focused the conversation on the reason I came here. "See anything that catches your optic?"

I turned my gaze to the wall. While there were a number of weapons that caught my optic, most of them being weapons I recovered from the station with Jetfire and Springer, most of them weren't servo weapons. They were very powerful, of course, but they weren't designed to integrate with a bot's systems.

However, there were a few that stood out among the hundreds of weapons that lined the wall, and one of them was very familiar.

"How is it that you have a copy of my Plasma Chaingun?" I asked, stepping over to the wall and picking up the weapon that looked exactly like my old Chaingun. "Optimus hasn't made any, and the only one I've seen is the one I lost on the station."

"Your Chaingun might be rare because it was only produced in the last jours of the war, but there are still quite a few out there, and here on Earth, since 'Mia has a few of them across the hall," the Wrecker officer answered. "But, that one is mine. I've fitted some modifications to it in my spare time."

"What kind of modifications?" I asked, examining the Chaingun a little more closely, but not seeing any difference between it and the one I lost.

"Minor improvements, mostly," Ironhide said. "I replaced the recoil system, fine-tuned the power converter, improved its overall efficiency, increased its armor-piercing capabilities, and fitted it with a firing option for a beam."

I looked up from the Plasma Chaingun and gave Ironhide a confused look for that last improvement he listed. "Firing option for a beam? What's that?"

"It overcharges the entire weapon, makes it fire plasma in a beam instead of bullets," Ironhide responded. "Don't misunderstand me, as much as I wish it did, it doesn't make the Chaingun into a particle weapon. The beam rapidly loses its effectiveness when you fire at targets more than about two- hundred meters from you, particle weapons would have as long a range as you can see. And using the beam for just a few micro-klicks is like firing a two klick burst in the weapon's normal mode. But, the beam does burn through pretty much anything, and quickly, too."

"So, you've pretty much turned it into a shotgun as well," I concluded, since firing the Chaingun in beam mode would make it ineffective at range, but incredibly deadly in close quarters.

"That's one way of looking at it, yeah," the Wrecker officer said, then smiled at how I was still examining the Chaingun. "Interest you?"

I nodded. "Definitely. I really liked my old Chaingun, it was easy to use, accurate, and could tear through an enemy in just one short burst. Having it be able to handle enemies in close quarters makes it even better." I looked fully up at Ironhide. "Would you miss this if I took it?"

Ironhide raised an optic ridge and glanced at the Hydra Cannon on his backplates, then back at me. "I have enough firepower on my person. Take it, kid," he said. "Ya still have three more to go."

I smiled at Ironhide's answer, and transformed my left servo into its firing mode so I could attach my replacement Chaingun to my servo. "That I do, Ironhide," I said, returning my servo to its normal state after attaching my Chaingun, and looking back at the wall. "Any suggestions for something that can take the place of a Scatter-Blaster?"

Ironhide immediately reached out and picked up a modified Path Blaster off the wall and offered it to me. "This would do nicely," he said. "Better rate of fire, accurate, has similar stopping power, and as I recall, you liked it a lot when we played E-N-E-R-G-O-N a few jours back. Never did finish that game, did we, kid?"

"No, we never did, we'll have to finish it up some time," I said with a chuckle as I took the offered Path Blaster and started examining it. "What kind of modifications did you install on this?"

"Same as the Plasma Chaingun," Ironhide replied. "Except it doesn't have a beam firing option. It still has a different firing option, but instead of firing a beam, this Path Blaster has the ability to fire a charged shot. The charged shot has the same energy consumption problem as the Chaingun's second firing mode, and you won't be able to fire the Path Blaster for a good klick after that shot, but it will pack more punch than a normal shot."

"How much more?" I asked.

The Wrecker officer smiled. "Much. One charged shot from that Path Blaster will blow a gunship in half, if you're lucky enough to hit it in a fault point. And a charged shot will blow through five feet of Xieron without a problem," he replied, referring to the most common metal on Cybertron, which when combined with a tiny amount of Primax, became our equivalent of Steel. "Of course, you can do the same with your Nucleon, and you don't have to worry about aiming with that."

"True, though that doesn't take away from the fact you've managed to modify what is classed as a heavy pistol to the point that it has the fire power to knock a gunship out of the sky," I said, turning the Path Blaster over in my servos before looking back at Ironhide. "If you don't mind, I will take this one as well."

"Ya came here to take my weapons, by all means, take it. Just don't come back looking for another if you break it," Ironhide said with a chuckle. He gestured to the various melee weapons on the wall as I transformed my right servo started attaching the Path Blaster to it. "What about replacements for your swords?"

I looked at the wall for only a moment before I finished attaching my new Path Blaster, then I walked over to a pair of broad swords that seemed to be identical to my old ones and picked them off the wall. "No sense in getting different melee weapons when I am so used to fighting with swords," I said, looking over at Ironhide. "Can I take these?"

Ironhide huffed, as if in disappointment. "Taking the exact same weapon, without any modifications... You have no sense of imagination," he said, narrowing his optics for a moment before making a dismissive gesture with one of his servos. "Take 'em, kid, be boring, see if I care."

I laughed lightly at Ironhide's behavior, and transformed my left servo and started to attach one of the broad swords to it. "I am not boring, I just happen to like swords, and found my old ones rather useful. That is, before Megatron crushed them."

"You're still boring, kid," Ironhide said, his gruff voice carrying a tone that was both dry and serious. "Here you have the perfect chance to outfit yourself with a battleaxe, warhammer, mace, or saw, and you go right back to your old swords." He shook his helm. "No imagination."

"I don't need to be imaginative when it comes to melee weapons," I said as I finished attaching the first of my replacement broad swords, returned my left servo to normal, and transformed my right servo and started to attach the second broad sword. "I only need something I am comfortable using, and I am most comfortable with swords."

"If you are most comfortable with swords, then take your sire's blade," Ironhide said. "Optimus uses the Star Saber when out on missions, and the Forge is now our most important resource, but the Omni Saber is gathering dust in the armory. I am sure Optimus wouldn't mind you taking it."

"And you and I both know I can't even touch it, you were there when I tried touching it after Optimus made its safeguard deactivate," I replied, referring to later in the cycle I onlined when I tried to hold my sire's blade, and its safeguard activated again as Optimus tried to hand it to me. I really wanted to use that thing, too... "The weapons of the Thirteen are made to be used by Primes, no one else. And I am not a Prime. As much as I want to use the Omni Saber, I simply can't."

Ironhide shrugged. "Ah, details," he joked as I finished attaching my other replacement sword and returned my servo to normal. "Ya can't let that stop ya, that sword's too nice to be gathering dust."

"Optimus has his own sword, and it's almost _my_ height, so his servos are full," I said. "But I agree, the Omni Saber is too nice to be gather-" I cut myself off when I noticed a block of metal on the wall, a familar-looking block of metal. "Is that a Vaporizer?" I asked, using the name for the shotgun I used on the station that Bulkhead came up with after I told him how it worked on the Decepticons. I wonder if he's modified it like my new Plasma Chaingun and Path Blaster.

Faster than I thought the massive mech was capable of moving, Ironhide rushed over to where the Vaporizer was on the wall, picked it up, and pulled it close to his chestplates and moved so his frame was partially hiding it, as if he was trying to keep a newborn sparkling away from me. "You've taken two weapons I've spent breems and breems modifying, replaced your swords with two of my own, and I have not complained or refused to give you anything, but I draw the line at my Vaporizer. You can't have it. _Ever._"

I raised my optic ridge at how possessive Ironhide became just because I saw his Vaporizer. It probably wasn't healthy to be that attached to a single weapon. And that was coming from _me_, a mech who loved guns a_ lot_ more than he should. "From what Arcee's told me, we have dozens of those down in the armory, you know," I said, not arguing that he should give his shotgun to me, just dryly informing him know he doesn't have the last Vaporizer in existence.

"I am aware, but none of those are _my_ Vaporizer. As I once heard a human say, 'There are many like it, but this one is mine," Ironhide said, quoting a small part of the Marine Rifleman's Creed as he tightened his servos around his deactivated Vaporizer. "You want your own, go get one from the armory. You're not touching mine."

I looked at Ironhide, down at the Vaporizer in his servos, which caused him to move it behind his frame protectively, then back up at Ironhide. "You know, I didn't want to take your Vaporizer, I asked what it was just it make sure it was what I thought, and to know if you modified it like the replacement weapons you generously allowed me to take."

The Wrecker officer was silent for a moment, and he slackened his grip on his Vaporizer. "Oh..." He said in a slightly quieter voice than normal, the closest the massive mech came to sounding embarrassed.

"Yeah... You really need to work on not being so protective of a weapon," I said. If he was this protective over a weapon he could easily replace, I didn't want to see what he'd do if someone threatened Chromia outside the battlefield.

"Maybe, but I'm not gonna, these are _my_ guns," Ironhide said, more in jest than seriousness. He placed his Vaporizer back on the wall reverently, as if putting a recharging sparkling down in its crib. "And I like some more than others."

"And some a little_ too_ much," I commented, giving Ironhide a flat look for the way he placed the Vaporizer back on the wall. "You are treating your Vaporizer like it's your sparkling."

Ironhide shrugged and walked over to the desk. "'Mia and I have wanted a sparkling for a long time now, but the war has put a lot of things on hold," he said as he sat down at the desk, sounding indifferent, but the look in his optics was far from it. He wanted a family, even if he didn't want to show it.

Sensing that Ironhide probably wanted to be alone for a while, I turned and started walking to the door. "Thanks for giving me some replacement weapons, Ironhide," I said. "And I hope that you and Chromia get your sparkling sometime soon."

"Thanks, kid. I do, too," Ironhide said as the door automatically opened for me and I stepped out into the hallway. He added something that caused me to freeze, "And, kid, I can't help but notice that you have a thing going for Arcee."

I winced and turned to look at Ironhide, who was starting at me intensely. "Yeah, I do. I have for a while, actually."

Ironhide nodded, as if something he suspected was just confirmed. "Figured as much. You do look like you're floating on a cloud made of hearts and rainbows whenever she walks into the room."

"Am I being that obvious?" I asked, hoping that Ironhide was exaggerating. I thought I was doing a good job of keeping my feelings hidden. But then again, Flightstorm knew how I felt after we had spoken for only a couple breems, and Jetfire, Springer, Optimus, Jazz, Elita, Bumblebee, and now Ironhide knew how I felt. Not a great track record for keeping my feelings hidden.

"Only to a mech who's been there, and I've been there," Ironhide responded, a hard look entering his optics. "I like you, kid, so I will give you fair warning. Don't do anything to hurt her. She trusts you. A lot. Don't betray or take advantage of that trust. If you do... Well, I cannot be held accountable for anything I might do to you." His optics shot to the wall next to him, focusing mostly on his Vaporizer.

"Uh... Yeah, I got it," I said, doing what I could not to sound intimidated by Ironhide's thinly veiled threat. There was just something about a massive, highly-trained mech, who was conveniently surrounded by hundreds of weapons, threatening to hurt you, at the _least_, if you hurt your best friend, who also happens to be his sparkmate's sister. "But Arcee also trusts Optimus, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Jetfire, Ratchet, Prowl, and almost everyone else on base. Why single me out?"

Ironhide looked at me seriously. "Because she doesn't trust any of them like she trusts you," he said. "You didn't see her after Tailgate was offlined. She was cold, hiding behind the walls she had put in place to keep others from getting close, even Cliffjumper was treated coldly for a long time. Only 'Mia, Elita, and I were allowed full access. And she was like that for a long time..." He pointed a digit at me, his optics boring into my own. "Right up until she met you. Now she's opening up, becoming more like her old self. And it's because you're helping her mental scars heal, even if you aren't aware of it."

I was stunned into silence. I was helping Arcee heal? How does Ironhide figure that? Arcee is kind, funny, friendly, and very approachable for almost any conversation topic, and had been for as long as I had known her. But of course, Ironhide was right, I hadn't seen Arcee after Tailgate was offlined, and even now she was affected by it. And by all rights, she should be like that now, since she lost Cliffjumper right before I started to call this reality home. Was I actually helping her heal somehow?

"There's no use in denying it, kid," Ironhide said, interrupting my thoughts. "You're helping her become like she once was. And for that I thank you. But, despite that, if you hurt her in any way, I will offline you..._ Slowly._ So treat her right if you finally confess, kid," with that, he looked down at his desk and picked up a data pad, pretty much ignoring my presence now that he had properly threatened me. Twice.

After Ironhide picked up the data pad, I turned and walked down the hallway, with no idea where I was going, simply focusing on Ironhide's words.

It was strange to think I was the one helping Arcee heal from mental scars, when she apparently hadn't let many bots inside the walls she puts up around herself when she's angry or sad. I wasn't family, her courted, or a therapist, I was just her friend and partner.

... But, sometimes, a friend is what you needed to start healing from a traumatic event. After all, I didn't really get over my human mother's death until I found good friends in high school, and let them help me, even if they weren't aware they were helping me. And a friend is what I was to Arcee, a friend and partner, someone who was there to have her backplates in a firefight, or play poker if the mood suited her.

Perhaps it wasn't so strange to think I was helping Arcee heal, even if I wanted to be more than just her friend and partner.

"Um... Hey, Shadowstreaker," Springer's voice suddenly said from off to my left, causing me to push my thoughts to the side. "Finally get out of the med-bay?"

I came to a halt and looked to my left, where I immediately saw Springer inside the doorway of the storage hanger we put most of the weapons we recovered from the station, since our armory wasn't large enough to hold them. "Yes, I did." I said neutrally, putting an equally blank look on my faceplate.

Springer had been an enigma since I onlined from stasis lock. He had visited me a few times while I was in the med-bay, and even held short, civil conversations with me during his visits. But, I was suspicious of his sudden change in behavior. This was Springer, he had hated me for jours, and now without explanation he was being civil to me, and _wasn't_ being an aft to Arcee? I had a hard time believing he wasn't up to something.

The green Triple-Changer nodded. "Good, good. Hey, the humans have been planning to have this cycle be a movie night, Miko's even having Bulkhead pick her up so she won't miss it, and they convinced some of us to join them in watching this movie called 'Avatar,' want to join us?" He asked in a friendly manner, as if he and I had been friends for centi-vorns. A conspiring smile appeared on his faceplate. "Your femme's going to be there."

I narrowed my optics at Springer's friendly and teasing statement. It was just so unlike Springer, the complete opposite of his usual behavior. "Why?"

Springer gave me a confused look and tilted his helm slightly. "Why what?" He asked.

"Why are you trying to be nice?" I asked, optics still narrowed as I stared at him. "When we were on the station, we were at each other's throats, then all the sudden you're apologizing to Arcee for how you talked to her, thanking me for saving you and Jetfire, having civil conversations with me, and now you're asking if I want to see a movie with you and a few others, and teasing me about Arcee as if I'm one of your fellow Wreckers. Why the sudden change?"

Springer's smile fell, and he grew more serious. "Because I realized just how much of an aft I've been," he replied. "I was crude and straight up sleazy when I was near Arcee, always making some comment about her looks, and not giving a slag about how that affected her and those around me. When you called me out and my behavior, I hated you for it, even more so when I crossed the line in the sand and you put me down. And I know you hated, or still hate, me just as much. But despite that, you still saved me from the Decepticons, even if they were going after Jetfire first. You saved me, even though you hated me... And I don't think I would have been able to do that back then. I would have let you be offlined, and not cared at all," he lowered his optics, looking ashamed at that thought. "I realized that when Jetfire said you saved him and, indirectly, me as well. I found that I had been a Decepticon in an Autobot's armor this whole time, and that if I continued behaving like I had, I eventually would end up being the very bots I hate more than anything. So, I decided I needed to stop being like that, and work on fixing the many friendships I've ruined with my fellow Autobots"

I continued staring at Springer, scrutinizing him for the faintest sign of deceit. But I found none. His voice was even and unchanging throughout his explanation. He hadn't avoided referring to himself in the first person. He had spoken honestly when he said that back then he would have let me offline. And he had not fidgeted even the slightest since he started speaking to me.

He wasn't lying.

"You honestly want to change," I said after a moment, unable to not sound surprised.

The green Triple-Changer nodded. "I do. I've been an aft to almost everyone for _far_ too long, it's time for me stop being like I was, and actually be a good bot, instead of an afthole." He looked at me and offered his servo for a shake. "And besides Arcee, you're the one I've wronged the most. Friends?"

I looked down at Springer's offered servo, then looked back up at Springer and hesitantly reached out and shook his servo. "Acquaintances, not friends," I corrected mildly, no bite behind my short statement. "You might be trying to change, but we haven't had enough civil conversations to be considered friends yet. But, I am willing to give you a chance."

Springer smiled slightly. "After how I've acted toward you, a chance is all I ask," he said, then let go of my servo and walked in the direction I just came from.

"Hey," I called out to him, causing Springer to pause and look back at me. "When is the movie night?"

Springer smiled slightly again. "Nine thirty, in the rec room," he answered, then turned around and continued walking down the hallway, soon disappearing into another storage hanger.

After Springer walked into the second storage hanger, I turned around and continued walking in the direction I had been going before I was stopped by Springer, still with no destination planned.

It was weird to think about what just happened. Springer and I buried the hatchet, and were now on lukewarm relations at the least. Perhaps even starting to become friends. And that was surprising, given how often we had butted helms since he arrived on Earth. Like whenever he insulted or made a crude comment about Arcee, when he said it was Arcee's fault that Tailgate and Cliffjumper were offlined, when we were on the station, a dozen or more other times...

Okay, maybe it was possible for he and I to actually be friends... Eventually.

* * *

><p><strong>So, yeah, Springer's character is changing quite a bit, isn't it? Haha. As much as I liked having him get hurt *mildly, most of the time* it wouldn't be right of me if I kept him the same throughout the story, would it? And character development is always a good thing, no matter which character is doing the developing.<strong>

**I know this chapter isn't all that much, just a filler, but I had a lot of fun writing it for some reason. Maybe that reason is because I don't have to worry about any plot elements for once. Lol.**

**And just so everyone knows, I am likely not going to be able to get my next chapter up this month. I have to leave town for a few days this week, and I will not have access to a computer, so I will not be able to write for those few days, or respond to PMs or reviews. I will do my best to get my next chapter up as soon as possible, but it might end up being next month, which is the pattern I have had for the last year or so, which I have been trying to break since it started. I was so close! Lol.**

**This chapter's credit song is "Two Steps From Hell - Start Again" I have been trying to find more credit songs with actual lyrics, but I just could not find one that suited this chapter, but that is also my own fault, since the way in which I ended it is rather hard to find a song for that fit with it. But, I finally managed to find one that does fit it. It doesn't fit as well as I would have liked, but the sounds do fit with the ending, and how Springer is starting to change. The title of the song also fits, but that was, believe it or not, coincidence.  
><strong>

**Please be sure to leave a review, as any feedback I get helps me learn how to improve my writing skills, and also helps me find motivation to write.**

**Thank you all for reading, and I'll see you soon.**


	31. Dreams and Mystery

**Okay, so the month of May was, without a doubt, the worst writing month I've ever had. Let's list the reasons for why that was, shall we?**

**1: I went out of town for four days. I enjoyed this one, though, and I already was planning on not writing for those four days, but it still is part of the reason why May sucked for writing.**

**2: The day after I returned, the computer which had all my writing died. Well, not technically, but its screen refuses to turn on, which effectively makes it useless until it is repaired. This cost me three days of writing.**

**3: My internet went down the day after I got a Chromebook. I got a Chromebook for my eighteenth birthday/graduation present. I am incredibly grateful for it, but the day after I got it, the internet decided it didn't want to work anymore, and the way the Chromebook works is through Google, so without the internet, it can't do anything. Unless you set your files to be available offline... Which I forgot to do. And I lost another two days of writing time to it being down.**

**4: The internet went down... Again. So, the night we got our internet back, it went out again. This happened on a Wednesday, and we called our internet provider the next day to say we had no internet. They said they would get someone out to us on Saturday. No big deal, I can play Skyrim *which I got for another present for my birthday, from my brother* for a while and get my Two-Handed skill up. Do they send someone on Saturday? No. They reschedule for Monday and don't tell us... This cost me another five days of writing time, and had me wanting to throw our internet router out a window. No joke.**

**In all, I lost fourteen days of writing time last month, which is why this chapter took as long as it did. For once, I actually have an excuse for not getting an update out quickly.**

**Anyway, I had a good month of May overall, just not a good writing one. I turned eighteen *yay*, got some pretty cool ideas for my own series of novels, as well as another series that wouldn't be science-fiction, got a Chromebook like I said, have been really, really enjoying Skyrim since I got it. I really can't believe it took me this long to get it. And the weather here has been really nice as of late. Not too hot, not too cold, and not too wet. Just right.**

**To everyone that reviewed, favorited, and followed, thank you so much. It really inspires me to write when I see that people like what I write, or have a suggestion for something in Fate Calls. Thank you all again! :D**

**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

************Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.************

* * *

><p><strong>Unknown Time<strong>

**Unknown Place**

_I stabbed the broken edge of one of my swords into the neck of the corrupt Autobot that had just shot me in the tank, causing him to gurgle as energon flooded his throat. I quickly followed up my stab with a punch to his shoulder-joint, forcing him to turn his backplates to me, I then proceeded to snap his neck with one servo and relieve him of his assault rifle._

_No more than a micro-klick after I relieved the mech of his rifle, a missile came out of nowhere and hit it right in the barrel, rendering it useless._

_"Perfect," I muttered, throwing the now default rifle away and looking across the small canyon, where the missile had originated from._

_Another of the corrupt Autobots was taking cover behind a boulder across the canyon, with a Homing Missile Launcher aimed directly at me._

_Moving as quickly as I could, I ran to my left and slid behind a boulder of my own, narrowly avoiding getting hit by a pair of homing missiles that the corrupt Autobot fired at me, the missiles instead impacting my cover._

_Not wanting to give the corrupt Autobot a chance to relocate and render my cover useless, I leaned out of cover and fired my Plasma Chaingun at my attacker, firing only a short burst to conserve my dwindling energon levels._

_Each round of my short burst hit its target, riddling the corrupt Autobot with bullets of pure energy and dropping him like a brick, offline before he even hit the ground._

_I had no time to celebrate my little victory, since a shotgun blast hit my side, tearing apart one layer of my armor and sending me to the ground from the kinetic energy transferred from the shot._

_After I was sent to the ground, a shotgun-wielding corrupt Autobot appeared in my vision, weapon pointed down at me as he cocked the shotgun and prepared to fire another shot, judging by how the barrel of his shotgun started to glow orange._

_Before the corrupt Autobot could fire, I kicked the back of his knee-joint, sending him falling to the ground, and causing his shot to miss badly. After my opponent fell, I aimed my Chaingun at his helm and fired twice, offlining the corrupt Autobot with a double helmshot at close range._

_I picked myself up off the ground and searched for any nearby enemies. There were none, but it was only a matter of time before more came for me. These bots were like flies, offline one, and three come to the funeral._

_Taking advantage of the temporary lull in battle, I ducked behind a boulder and tried to contact base. "_Shadowstreaker to base, is anyone there?!"_ I asked frantically, praying for a response._

_Static was my only answer._

_"Frag!" I cursed, picking up the shotgun my last opponent used, and quickly relocating to another part of the canyon. If I could just get out of range of that jam-_

_My thought was cut off by a Nucleon shot hitting the ground next to me, sending me flying into the canyon wall and tearing apart both layers of my armor._

_The pain that followed being sent into the canyon wall was incredible, and the amount of energon leaking from my frame alarming, but I blocked out the pain, pushed my alarm aside, and dragged myself into an alcove that I had landed near, then leaned out and looked in the direction I just came from, where the Nucleon shot had come out of nowhere._

_A Destroyer was moving through the canyon, the barrels of its twin Nucleons still smoking as its treads carried it over the rocky terrain of the canyon floor. It came to a halt suddenly, and started its transformation process, countless thousands of parts all shifting shape and mass in order for the Destroyer to revert to its true form._

_The Destroyer finished transforming and stood to its full height, towering well over two-hundred feet above the canyon floor and making me look like a sparkling in comparison. "You're nothing," he bellowed in my direction, not even trying to yell, his voice naturally as loud as a cannon blast. "Just someone wearing the Autobot's badge of honor." He started charging up his Nucleons, which were now located on his shoulder-joints._

_I widened my optics and ran out from inside the alcove, but my injuries prevented me from moving fast enough._

_The Destroyer fired his Nucleons, sending two balls of highly-unstable energy at the alcove I was just standing in. The shots impacted the alcove and detonated on contact, instantly incinerating the rock alcove and part of the side of the canyon, and sending me flying again as the powerful shockwave hit me._

_I didn't feel myself soar through the air, or hit the ground in roughly the same spot the Destroyer hit when he first fired, or even hear anything, since my audio receptors were ringing, but I certainly felt the aftermath._

_My left servo was locked up, unsurprising, given how it hasn't really recovered from the injuries it sustained in the mine last June. My vision was also flickering between its normal state and darkness, a sign that I either had sustained a serious processor injury, or my frame was starting to shut itself down and go into stasis lock. And considering how everything was hurting, and how I was already low on energon before the Destroyer showed up, I was inclined to believe I was starting to fall into stasis lock again._

_Slowly, with my chassis protesting at every small movement, I pushed myself up off the canyon with my good servo, and sagged back on my knee-joints, unable to find the strength to stand._

_My vision flickered to darkness for a long moment, and when it returned to its normal state, I found myself surrounded by at least a dozen corrupt Autobots, all standing at least fifty meters away and pointing assault rifles at me, while the Destroyer who reduced me to my present state was hanging further back, his own weapons pointing down at me as well._

_What I assumed to be the leader of the corrupt Autobots said something, but I didn't hear it. My audio receptors were still ringing from the Nucleon shot, I could barely hear anything._

_The corrupt Autobot leader spoke again, likely repeating what he said a moment ago, and again I couldn't hear it. But, it was a little clearer than his previous attempt, and I heard parts of a few words. I didn't know for sure, but I believe he wanted me to deactivate my weapons and surrender._

_'Like I could actually put up a fight in this state,' I thought, barely even able to fight to keep my optics open, or make myself form a coherent thought. Stasis lock was not far away now. It was inviting me, welcoming me. And I wasn't going to be able to do anything against this many opponents at once, especially with that Destroyer backing them up._

_I stopped fighting to keep my optics open, and let them close, accepting of the inevitable. My only thought was of Arcee, and of how close I was to telling her._

_One of the other corrupt Autobots behind me said something after I let my optics close. The tone he used was one of jest, he was only making a joke with his comrades, one I didn't catch the words of. But, whatever it was, it made my pain to go away in an instant, and cause it to be replaced by pure, white-hot rage, rage that I had absolutely no control over._

_My optics snapped open, revealing that my vision had gone red, and my helm whipped to the corrupt Autobot who had spoken, my optics burning a hole through his own._

_The corrupt Autobot widened his optics in fear, while the others around him opened fire on me, their weapons emitting a heavy chatter as they fired bullet-shaped globs of plasma at me._

_I heard myself let out a primal roar at the challenge, and I lept to my pedes without telling my chassis to do so and sprinted at the corrupt Autobot who spoke, ignoring the others that were shooting me._

_I reached the offending corrupt Autobot in less than a quarter of a micro-klick, too quickly for the corrupt Autobots around the one I was focusing on to shift their aim, but not so much for the others that were now behind me. But it didn't matter. A few bullets weren't going to stop me, nor would the Destroyer that was most certainly charging his Nucleons. They were no longer the ones in control of the situation._

_My intact sword deployed without me telling it to, and I stabbed upward, intending to pierce his spark and decapitate him in one efficient move._

_Time seemed to slow as my sword cut through the air, the blade creeping closer and closer to the chestplates of the corrupt Autobot with agonizing slowness, until..._

_I onlined just as my sword connected with the corrupt Autobot's chestplates._

* * *

><p><strong>May 25, 2013 4:02 A.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

I sat arrow straight up in my berth, deploying my sword with barely a thought.

After a moment, I realized everything I just experienced was a dream, and I returned my servo to normal and hung my pedes off my berth.

'That was... Unusually familiar,' I thought, running a sevo over my faceplate in an effort to rub some of the recharge from my optics.

That dream was _far_ too similar to another one I had, way back when Arcee and I were taking care of Wildwing. It had basically the exact same premise. I was alone, fighting in a canyon, low on energon, and then attacked by a bot that was far larger than I was. Then I would almost fall into stasis lock, but then someone off to the side would say something I couldn't hear, yet knew what they said, and then I would feel nothing but fury. Pure, unadulterated fury.

Of course, there were noticeable differences in both versions of the dream. For starters, my first dream started in a different way than the one I just had, and I had been fighting Decepticons instead of corrupt Autobots. I had also been attacked by a Blackout look-alike in my original dream instead of a Destroyer. And the events leading up to me falling into pure anger were also different in minor, yet noticeable ways.

But, even though I knew there were differences between my two dreams, I had no idea what meaning they held. I hadn't studied enough medical data pads to even know repeating dreams could happen to Cybertronians, let alone figure out what it could mean. And there were only four bots on base that might have an idea of what my dreams might mean, Jetfire, Optimus, Ratchet, and Moonracer.

Jetfire because he was far older than anyone else on base, and had seen enough things in his long life to make an educated guess. Optimus because he was... Optimus. And Ratchet and Moonracer because they were both medics. But, since it was so early in the morning, and I don't think I've ever seen Optimus recharge, the Prime was my best option for getting an opinion on my dreams at this time, when they were at their freshest.

After I finished trying, with little success, to rub recharge from my optics, I stood up, walked to the door, unlocked and opened it, then started walking into the hallway, only to step back at the sight that greeted me.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been standing just outside my door, each holding one end of a giant metal cauldron filled with what appeared to be pink paint, which they were more than likely planning on using to prank me in some fashion. When I opened my door, however, they both jumped in surprise at how my door opened before they could even try to crack the password, and they dropped the cauldron, which caused its pink contents to spill and cover the hallway floor, the door of Arcee's quarters across the hall, and even splash on their armor.

Sunstreaker let out a horrified yell, which likely would have been loud enough to online Arcee if she hadn't still been at Jack's after taking him home after Avatar ended, when he saw the pink paint on his yellow armor. "MY PAINT! MY PAINT IS RUINED!" He glared at me and pointed an accusing digit at my chestplates. "THIS IS _YOUR_ FAULT!"

Now fully online after being startled by the twins, I looked down at the floor, where the cauldron continued to spill pink paint, before giving Sunstreaker a blank stare. "You two were trying to prank me, and dropped your paint cauldron. So, as a result, you are now both covered in paint. How the _hell_ is that my fault?" I asked.

"You weren't supposed to be online for another breem!" Sideswipe answered, making an effort not to yell, unlike his twin. "So, you startled us and made us drop our prank! That makes our present situation your fault!"

"Or you could have not tried to prank me at all," I deadpanned. "Had you not dragged a giant cauldron to my door, you wouldn't be covered in pink paint right now. Pranks can be rather pointless, and unnecessary."

Both twins gasped, as if I just insulted them in the worst way imaginable. "Pranks... Are... _Not_... Pointless!" They both said in offended tones, voices far higher than usual.

"You are both covered in paint after attempting to commit a prank for no reason other than to commit a prank, your argument is irrelevant." I said.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe went silent for a brief moment, then the yellow twin hummed. "Hmm, that is actually a good point."

Sideswipe glared at his twin. "That is not a good point. Pranks are not in any way pointless, and the fact we failed here only means we must go bigger next time! Fight against responsibility, Sunny!"

"Don't call me that! And I'm not saying pranks are pointless, you dumbaft, don't act like I just said we should never commit an act of sparklingish behavior again," the yellow twin said to his brother, glancing over and giving his brother a stupid look for even suggesting such a thing. "All I am saying, is that had you not onlined me in the middle of the night and dragged me into trying to prank Shadowstreaker, my paint wouldn't be _RUINED!_"

"Oh, it's not ruined, Sunny," Sideswipe replied with a dismissive wave, ignoring how his brother again yelled at him to not call him that nickname. "All we have to do is rinse off before it drys, or just repaint ourselves later. Oh! Maybe we can take this opportunity to change our colors!"

Sunstreaker narrowed his optics at his brother. "No. Just _no,_" he said, tone on the edge of being dangerous. "I will never change my paint. It is perfect. To change it would be a crime."

"I disagree," Sideswipe said with a shake of his helm. "You could easily improve your paint, since it really isn't very unique. It's rather bland, in fact."

Knowing this was about to break out into a scrap between siblings, as well as seeing how I was now being ignored, I pressed the button on the control panel next to my door to the door itself, then pressed another button that locked the door, and walked down the hallway toward Optimus' quarters.

Not three micro-klicks after I closed and locked my door and started to move toward Prime's quarters, I heard the sound of a light punch landing on a shoulder-joint, followed by a return punch, and another following that, along with insults being traded.

'At least they aren't trying to really hurt each other,' I thought with a sigh as I continued down the hallway. Normally, I would have broken up their little fight and told them to be more productive, like work on cleaning off Arcee's door before she arrived at base. But, since they had been there to prank me, I continued down the hallway and allowed them to fight. Let Arcee's fury be their karma for trying to prank me.

After a short walk down the hallway, I reached Optimus' quarters and, oddly, the door opened automatically for me. He probably kept it open at this time in the cycle since anyone who went to his quarters this early were need of his advice. Like I was.

Unsurprisingly, Optimus' quarters were small, quite a bit smaller than Arcee's, in fact. He always did make sure his soldiers were taken care of before he was, one of the many reasons that made him such a great leader. But despite the limited space, he managed to fit a lot of things in his quarters.

In the back right corner of Optimus' quarters, Solus' Forge and the Star Saber were leaning against the wall next to a berth that was barely large enough to fit the Prime. The berth also seemed to have a much thinner layer of gel than most berths, which would make it far from comfortable. Why he wasn't using a more comfortable berth, I did not know. All he had to do is use the Forge to make a thicker gel layer, but I guess he thought that was unnecessary.

The left side of the room was lined with data pad shelves that went up to the ceiling, each individual pad containing hundreds of zettabytes of historical data he had copied from the Hall of Records before the end of the war on Cybertron, and the beginning of the war throughout the local group of galaxies.

The right side of the room was similar to the left, but it also contained the holopad for a secure FTL communicator built with my carrier's Forge last mega-cycle, which would allow him to send out, or receive updates from the other Autobot commanders scattered across the Cosmos. Optimus sent out a message welcoming Autobots to join us on Earth after he built the communicator, but since most Autobot forces were all the way out in the Triangulum or Andromeda Galaxies, it would take more than a jour for any signal we send out to reach any Autobots in those galaxies, and twice as long to receive a response. So, we probably had another two or three months before we received a return message.

Optimus was reading a data pad at a small, but very organized, desk in the middle of the room, and he looked up at me when I entered. "Shadowstreaker. Why are you online so early? You do not usually online at this time."

"I had a dream," I replied.

The Prime stared at me for a long moment, as if trying to figure out why this was important. "Normally, I would tell you to simply return to your quarters, and go back to recharging. But, given your habit of speaking to the Primes, and... Other beings while in recharge, I will instead ask you what happened in your dream," he said. "What is it that you saw in your dream?"

"It was more than one dream, I had a similar one back when Arcee and I were taking care of Wildwing. This one was just had a lot of different details." I answered.

Optimus placed the data pad down, intertwined his digits, and rested his servos on the desk, giving me his full attention. "Tell me about your first dream."

"I was alone in a canyon, fighting Decepticons with only my swords, since I apparently was low on energon. I offlined a couple of them, then I was attacked by a giant, flying one. Must have been almost as tall as the Safe's ceiling. He wasn't a seeker, either, he was a helicopter. I tried to fight him by attacking his pedes, but he just kicked me away and into the side of the canyon. That almost made me fall into stasis lock, but one of the Cons off to the said something. I don't know what he said, but it made me more angry than anything I can compare it to... And I lost it, I got up like I hadn't ever been hurt, ran a lot faster than I should have been able to, leapt at one of the Decepticons, then I onlined there." I said, recalling and repeating all the important details of the dream I had last July.

Optimus continued looking at me, the look on his faceplate completely blank, though his optics were shining with confusion. "And what was your second dream?" He asked, obviously wanting to get all the pieces together before commenting.

"Same premise of the first, except I was fighting corrupt Autobots instead of Decepticons," I said as I shifted on my pedes slightly, still uncomfortable with that detail of the dream. "I also felt a little more in control of myself when the anger overtook me, but also a lot more... Cold, like I was forced to the side, or watching something from someone else's optics."

The Prime blinked slowly, look still blank. "And you want to know what your dreams could mean," he said, almost like asking a question, but somehow managing not to. Don't know how he does that.

I nodded. "I do. I don't think having almost the exact same dream twice is just a random occurrence. I want to know what they mean."

Optimus was silent for a moment, likely gathering his thoughts, then he hummed silently. "While interpreting dreams is not one of my specialties, it seems to me that someone, somewhere, is attempting to warn you about a future event, but at the same time also keeping most of the exact details of the event very difficult to decipher."

I gave my commander a confused look. "But that makes no sense. Why would someone try to warn me about something without telling me what I should be looking out for?" I asked.

The Prime shook his helm. "I do not know, Shadowstreaker. There are many questions that have been risen from your experiences, and few of them have yet to be answered."

I chuckled humorlessly. "Yeah, strange things seem to happen around me, don't they?"

A corner of Optimus' mouth twitched upward in a smile. "We all live, and are surrounded by, mystery, Shadowstreaker. It is a part of life. You are merely getting most of the mysteries of your life out of the way sooner than most," he said, getting up from his desk and coming to stand in front of me. "If you are meant to know, the answer will be revealed to you. With time."

I chuckled again, this time from genuine amusement. "You really like saying that."

The Prime's optics twinkled with humor. "It is a saying that has served me well in the past. And if you allow it, it will serve you just as well. If you are willing to follow its meaning."

"Which basically means, 'Put every unanswered question you have in the corner you never, ever go to, and forget about it.'" I summed up, statement meant as a joke.

Optimus gave me a mildly disapproving look, which immediately quelled any further attempts at joking. Mech really knew how to make you shut up without saying a word. "No. It means to not dwell on mysteries that you do not have the ability explain, but also remain vigilant for any signs that answers to those same mysteries are near."

I took a moment to consider his words, then nodded slowly. "That is a wise thing to live by, Optimus. And I guess keeping a sharp optic out for answers is better than trying to make one from so little, especially when what clues you have are unclear," I said. "Still, I have enough questions that I want answered, I was hoping this was going to be simple."

Optimus put a servo on my shoulder-joint. "I am sorry I could not be of more help, Shadowstreaker. There are some puzzles that cannot be solved until all their pieces have been found."

I smiled and raised my optic ridges at Optimus' words. "Did you get that out of a fortune cookie?"

The Prime smiled and let his servo fall to his side. "Yes," he answered flatly, as if this was a serious matter. "As Alpha Trion once told me, 'The greatest wisdom, comes from the humblest of origins."

"Sounds like something he'd say, same with Prima, they are similar in that regard," I said, then suddenly had to fight to keep my optics open. Huh. Maybe I was not as online as I thought I was. After all, I did stay up a while after Avatar ended, discussing the movie with Arcee through a private comm-link. Talking had robbed me of recharge, but I think it was worth it. And I also am online a lot earlier than normal, which further robs me of recharge.

Optimus immediately took note of how I fought my optic lids. "You are still in need of recharge. Return to your quarters and recharge, Shadowstreaker, it is likely not good for you to function on little recharge, given your continued recovery."

I shook my helm. "No. I won't be able to get any recharge after my dream. It's still too fresh, and I honestly am a little disturbed by some of its context, particularly its ending.."

Optimus was silent for a moment, then he nodded. "As you wish. But, I recommend visiting the washracks, starting your morning routine would be the best way for you to online fully."

Starting to feel my optic lids closing again, I nodded and turned to walk out of Optimus' quarters, but I paused and looked back at the Prime as he went back to his desk and sat down. "Optimus," the Prime looked up at me. "Thanks for listening, as well as helping."

Optimus smiled slightly. "Anytime, Shadowstreaker. Now, go and make sure you do not fall into recharge in the middle of the cycle. Prowl would likely find that an inefficient use of time," he joked.

I chuckled and turned away, then walked out into the hallway, the door automatically closing behind me like it had opened for me when I arrived. I then turned down the hall and walked toward the mech washracks, leaving the Prime's quarters behind as I went to start my usual morning routine.

* * *

><p>Optimus sat in his chair for nearly klick after Shadowstreaker left his quarters, waiting to see if the young mech was going to return.<p>

He did not.

The Prime stood up from his desk and walked off to his left, where the shelf containing medical data pads was located. He immediately took the first pad off the shelf and started skimming through it, looking for a key phrase he was searching for.

He had not lied to Shadowstreaker when he told him he did not know why someone was warning him of a future event while at the same time keeping details hidden, he also hadn't told the young mech everything he knew. Or suspected, rather. He did not want to put more on Shadowstreaker than he needed to. The mech had enough things on his CPU already, given the number of unanswered questions that plagued him. Optimus did not want to burden Shadowstreaker with his suspicions unless they were more than suspicions. And to do that he needed to find a data pad, one he had not seen in a very long time.

During the first cycles of the war, when Optimus had still been in the process of setting up the Autobots' main base of operations in the Hall of Records, he had been in a briefing with his core group of advisors and saw a data pad that Ratchet had left on a table. He had given it just a short glance, and only part of the screen was visible, but Optimus knew from the brief look he had given it that it contained information that was nearly an exact match to the anger Shadowstreaker described feeling at the end of both of the dreams he experienced.

However, Optimus did not see the name or number of the data pad. To further complicate matters, with a race as ancient as the Cybertronians, many, many diseases, medical conditions, burns, and rusts had developed and been wiped out in their long history, and the Hall of Records contained a file on each of them, and Optimus had made copies of each of those medical files when the Ark left Cybertron.

"This is going to be a lengthy process," the Prime said to himself as he placed the data pad back on the shelf, having found that it did not contain the information he was searching for. He took the data pad next to the one he just placed back on the shelf in his servo and started reading it, only to place it back on the shelf when he found it also was not what he was looking for.

For more than half a breem, Optimus picked data pads off the shelves, only to return them to their proper place each time, until his search finally came to an end when he picked a data pad in the middle of the third shelf of data pads he had searched.

As the Prime quickly discovered, the data pad contained an article written just after the end of the Golden Age by a scientist named 'Gearjack,' and it was called 'The Quriomus Protocol, and how It Works.'

As he began to read the article, Optimus walked back over to his desk and sat down, his optics focused on the data pad in his servos. And as he read, Optimus slowly saw each of his suspicions become facts. If, that is, Shadowstreaker was suffering from the condition the article was describing, and he was not informing anyone.

Making a mental note to see Ratchet and Moonracer about Shadowstreaker's regular checkups when they both onlined, and have either medic examine his results more closely, Optimus placed the data pad on his desk and picked up the one he had been holding before Shadowstreaker stepped into his quarters, a report to Agent Fowler regarding the destruction of a gas station in Montana that Bulkhead had accidentally destroyed in a skirmish with the Decepticons.

A Prime's work was never done.

* * *

><p><strong>May 25, 2013 5:34 A.M<strong>

**MH-53N Pave Low V, low-altitude flight forty miles North of Denver**

Clancy Arkeville sat in the copilot's seat of his command helicopter, barely paying any attention to the noise of the rotors cutting the air just outside the cockpit windows. He was looking at a laptop, reading an online sports website his mole in the S.T.F used to send him coded messages disguised as comments on different articles from many different accounts.

At a glance, his mole's comments looked like they were from various sports fans of differing intelligence levels. But, when Clancy highlighted the second letter in each sentence from all the comments, the message would reveal itself. This message was simple, containing only two words, 'Eighteen hours.'

To most, the short message meant nothing. But to Clancy, it was perfectly clear. His mole had managed to disable S.T.F satellite tracking in the United States for the next eighteen hours. Not an easy feat, considering how many satellites Shepherd had sent into orbit.

'Waste of money and resources,' Clancy thought, closing the computer in his lap and setting it aside. Shepherd was too trusting of the aliens, too willing to continue giving the S.T.F more creative ways of killing other humans, and ignore the facts that were right in front of him. The aliens, the... _Cybertronians_, were not, as Shepherd believed, humanity's friend.

No matter what they claimed, they were only on Earth to fuel their war, nothing else. Their unwillingness to share their technology was proof that they didn't trust humanity. And if you did not trust those you claimed to be your allies, then you were an enemy. And enemies of humanity needed to be destroyed, and to that, humanity needed to level the playing field against their alien occupiers.

Clancy was close to being able to level that playing field five months ago, when MECH had managed to capture a Decepticon. He had been so close to opening him up and understanding how they worked, what it took to kill them, but the Autobot his mole told him was called 'Bulkhead' had ruined Clancy's plans, freed the captured Decepticon, and the two had completely devastated MECH in battle. And now, he had only three helicopters, including the two AH-74Bs flanking his Pave Low, and only forty men, a third of his original company.

MECH was crippled, Clancy was painfully aware of that, but they were not done yet. If this forced partnership with the female Cybertronian, Airachnid, if the name she gave Clancy was accurate, then MECH would become stronger than they ever were before, and they would know everything there was to know about the Cybertronian body.

'_If_ she doesn't double-cross us,' Clancy thought grimly, looking suspiciously at the alien helicopter that was flying just to the right of one of his escorting Apaches, seemingly having to slow down so Clancy and his convoy could keep up with her. Clancy trusted her about the same amount as he trusted Lennox to not shoot at him. She not only was apparently a former member of the Decepticons, who were openly hostile to humanity, but she also gave Clancy a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

When Clancy and MECH had outlived their usefulness, Clancy fully expected her to kill him and all his men, but he had no choice except to work with her. MECH was too weak for them to attempt to capture another Cybertronian on their own, and the thought that he would soon be able to examine another Cybertronian, the female known as Arcee at that, helped to keep Clancy's mind off his temporary ally's imminent betrayal. He would have preferred having a male Cybertronian to examine as well, but he would take what he could get.

The leader of MECH shook himself from his thoughts, put on his headset, and looked over at his pilot. _"ETA?"_ He asked through the radio, the rotors too loud for his pilot to hear him otherwise.

_"Five hours,"_ the pilot replied. _"Sun's coming up, we have to keep to the most remote areas to keep our... _Friend_ from attracting even more attention than we do, and that means crisscrossing around every town and city from here to Jasper."_

Clancy hummed in acknowledgment and removed his headset, having already expected their arrival to be delayed due to the Cybertronian flying next to them. He hoped she was more patient than he suspected, they still needed to find the address of the boy Arcee was protecting, as well as find a way to abduct the boy and make the Autobot come after him, or have them both go where they wanted them to, and let Airachnid have her fun with him while MECH examined Arcee.

The boy's death would be normally be regrettable, but since he was associating with the Cybertronians willingly, his life was forfeit. And even if he was associating with them against his will, the life of a single boy was worth the price of examining a miricle of science like a Cybertronian.

Now knowing how long he had until he arrived at their makeshift base in an abandoned concrete factory in Jasper, Clancy leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes to gain some of the sleep he had missed on the night op that led to MECH's alliance with Airachnid, still thinking about how scientifically interesting it would be to finally discover how and why the mechanical Cybertronians had women.

* * *

><p><strong>May 25, 2013 9:17 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

After my conversation with Optimus, I had spent the cycle doing what I could to help around the base. Cleaning out storage hangers, doing routine maintenance on our weapons, anything I could do to lend a servo. Most of the work had been tedious, but the conversations I had with my fellow Autobots while doing the work had made it more enjoyable, especially when I was helping more than one fellow Autobot.

On an odd note, this was the cycle of the Pulling, and I hadn't experienced it at all. Except for the first Pulling instance, every Pulling event had occurred early in the cycle, mostly around noon, but this time it hadn't. It wasn't that I was upset that it the Pulling hadn't occurred, it was painful and incredibly unnerving, but I found it odd that something that had been in such a precise cycle suddenly changed. But, I suppose not getting shocked by my own spark was a good thing. And, despite that one odd note, it had been a good cycle, I still wished I was cleared for duty, but it could have been worse.

Currently, I was helping Bumblebee and Smokescreen store a weapons cache they had recovered without a fight from the Decepticons, while Prowl supervised the three of us.

"That Neutron Assault Rifle belongs in crate D18, Smokescreen, not A21," Prowl said to the white and blue mech, looking down at a data pad in his servo that likely was a list of what crate was supposed to hold what.

Smokescreen nodded. "Right, right, right," he said quickly, sounding a little embarrassed by his mistake as he moved to the other side of the room, where the correct weapons crate was located.

_"Do we really need to place every weapons in the exact place you tell us? Can't we just put these in any empty crate and be done with it?"_ Bumblebee asked in an exasperated tone as he placed an EMP Shotgun into the crate Smokescreen tried to put the Neutron Assault Rifle, having gotten tired of Prowl's constant instructions.

The stoic mech glanced up from his data pad. "Yes," he said, tone emotionless as always. "If someone was in need of a weapon, and that weapon was placed in the incorrect crate, then they would waste time searching the other crates for the weapon that was misplaced. It is only logical to store every weapon as they should be stored."

"While that is true, there are no unique weapons here," I said as I loaded a damaged Ion Displacer into one of the larger crates. Might be a heavy weapon, but it wouldn't do us any good in its state, and we had plenty of them already. "If someone was searching for a weapon in here, then the entire armory would have to have been cleared, as well as all the other storage hangers that are filled with better weapons than anything we've stored so far."

"All possibilities must be taken into account," Prowl stated. He looked back down at his data pad for a moment, then pointed at a pair of Scatter-Blasters on the cart Bumblebee, Smokescreen, and I had used to transport the weapons to this storage hanger. "Shadowstreaker, those Scatter-Blasters belong in crate Z9."

Nodding at Prowl's unspoken, yet strongly implied, command, I picked the Scatter-Blasters off the cart and walked to the back of the storage hanger, where the crate Prowl mentioned was. "How many loads do we have after we've finished with this one?" I asked, noting the fact the cart was nearly empty. We had made good time on that load.

"This is the last," Prowl answered as he pointed at an Ion Blaster. "Bumblebee, that Ion Blaster belongs in crate Q4."

"Um, Prowl? Where does this go?" Smokescreen asked, picking an electrical whip off the cart and holding it up for Prowl to see, while Bumblebee took the Ion Blaster and moved to the crate Prowl said it belonged.

The stoic mech looked at the whip for a brief moment, then looked down at the data pad. He blinked once in confusion. "It is not on the list," he said as he narrowed his optics slightly, like this was a serious offense to him. "All weapons are to be properly logged, it is one of the main regulations of the Autobot army."

"One of the twins might have placed it on this cart by mistake," I said, walking over and examining the whip without taking it from Smokescreen. "This wouldn't be the first time they did that."

"That does not change the fact protocol was not followed," Prowl said, looking distainfully at the whip. "Protocols and regulations are there for a reason. Not following them breaks the structure of organization, and is not logical."

_"Since when were the twins logical?"_ Bumblebee asked rhetorically. _"But, it isn't fair to just throw the blame on them, we still have no idea who accidentally forgot to log the whip."_

"The twins were the ones who organized this load of weapons," Prowl stated.

The yellow and black scout went silent for a brief moment. _"Oh,"_ he said. _"Then I guess they missed the whip."_

"Indeed," the stoic mech said, then looked at Smokescreen. "Leave it on the cart, I will have Sunstreaker and Sideswipe log it and return later to store it."

"Got it," Smokescreen said easily, placing the whip back down on the cart and picking up a case of EMP Grenades. "What about these?"

"Crate S7," Prowl replied without looking at the data pad, then gestured at a damaged Nucleon, one of the last items on the cart. "Shadowstreaker, that Nucleon belongs in crate X9."

I responded to Prowl's statement by picking up the Nucleon and moving to the crate he mentioned. "How many more do you need me to store, Prowl?" I asked as I placed the Nucleon into the crate and sealed it, since the the Nucleon took the last available space in the crate.

"None, Shadowstreaker, you have finished your share," the stoic mech replied. "You are free to leave."

"You sure? There are still some weapons on the cart," I said, looking at the cart and seeing a few Scatter-Blasters, EMP Shotguns, Neutron Assault Rifles, and grenade cases still waiting to be put into storage.

"Yes, you handled two thirds of the heavy weapons, you have transferred more weight overall than these two," Prowl answered, glancing at Smokescreen and Bumblebee before looking back at me. "You are finished, Shadowstreaker, dismissed."

Ignoring Prowl's order for the moment, I looked at Bumblebee and Smokescreen. "You two alright with me leaving?"

"Of course. It won't take Smokescreen and I long to store what remains on the cart. It's fine if you go," Bumblebee said, shrugging indifferently.

"I second that," Smokescreen added.

Seeing that my presence would not be missed, I nodded and walked toward the door. "I will see you three around later," I said as the door automatically opened for me and I stepped into the hallway, just catching farewells from Smokescreen and Bumblebee, before the door closed behind me.

After leaving the storage hanger, I stood in a hallway for a moment, unsure of where to go. I couldn't train, since Ratchet and Moonracer retired early. Watching a spar also isn't an option, because Ironhide and Bulkhead broke the sparring ring earlier in the cycle. Going down to the shooting range was an option, given how it didn't require any real physical effort, but I had been down there twice already, and shooting wasn't as much fun when you kept doing it over and over in so short a time. That left me with either going to the rec room to relax, or retiring to my quarters to drink my second cube of energon, as well as my half cube of high-grade, and maybe looking around the internet before getting some recharge. And considering how I was running on less recharge than usual, I think retiring to my quarters would be best.

With my destination now planned, I turned in the direction of my quarters and started walking, only to stop when Arcee's voice called out from behind me.

"Going my way?" She asked, tone suggesting she was smiling.

I turned and saw she was doing exactly that. "Hey, Arcee. How are you?" I asked with a smile of my own. This was, surprisingly, the first time we had spoken since we ended our private comm-link last night. She arrived back at base without Jack for some reason, though she didn't get a chance to explain why, since Optimus instructed her go with Jazz on a recon mission to the Badain Jaran Desert, where our sensors detected Decepticon activity, almost as soon as she drove through the entrance tunnel. They had been gone on the mission for the entire morning, and into the afternoon, when they finally got back, but then her duties prevented us from talking after she returned. And by the time she was done with her duties, I was helping unload weapons, which I had only now just finished. This cycle had not been kind to conversations between the two of us.

"I got back from a long recon mission to find my door covered in pink paint, I haven't had a chance to visit the washrack all cycle, and I inadvertently got Jack grounded by his mom. But other than that, I am fine," the blue and pink femme replied as she walked up next to me and the two of us started walking down the hall.

I raised an optic ridge at the second to last part of Arcee's statement. "How'd you get Jack grounded?"

"I took the long route back to Jasper, there was just something about the air last night that I found enjoyable and relaxing," the femme who captured my spark replied, looking like she was fond of recalling the ride.

"Are you sure you didn't just let the setting of Avatar affect you?" I joked.

Arcee rolled her optics at me. "No. I happen to enjoy riding at night, something about it is just better than riding in the day," she answered. "But, my decision to take the long way back did not please June, since I got Jack back half a breem later than he told her he'd return. She's apparently been counting the amount of times he's missed curfew, and last night went over his limit. So, Jack's been grounded from anything except school and his work, and Miko and I have been banned until further notice."

I winced. "Ouch. No transportation, or girlfriend. A male high school student's worst nightmare, at least for most. I think Jack will take it in stride," I said. "So, how are you going to apologize to Jack for inadvertently grounding him?"

"Probably with giving him rides to wherever he wants to go for a mega-cycle. Within reason, of course, wouldn't want him to get himself grounded again once June unbans Miko and I," Arcee replied as we rounded a corner. "That or let him take Miko out on more dates for the next jour. Combat missions tend to keep me away more than they like, and Bulkhead can be a little too loud for their dates."

"Considering that they are a rather lovey-dovey couple, they will most likely ask you to bring them on more dates," I said. "I can hear the mushy lines already."

The blue and pink femme shivered, as if she was trying to shake off a horde of scraplets. "Oh, you have _no_ idea, Shadow'. You only see them while they're on base. They are so much worse on dates. It's like listening to one of the many bad romance movies humans keep on making. The other cycle, Miko was calling Jack, 'Jackie-Wackie,' and he was calling her, 'Miko-Liko.'"

I joined Arcee in her shivers. "That is horrifying. Plain and simple."

"I know," Arcee said. "And when you listen to it over and over... It becomes a _nightmare._ I would rather face down a dozen Pyros in close quarters than listen to those to talk like that for a cycle."

"I pity you, Arcee, I really do," I said. "Couples like Jack and Miko drive others insane. And also make them sick and want to throw up a little, or purge their tanks, in our case. And they probably don't even know it."

"No, they are painfully oblivious to how they are annoying everyone around them. They don't even notice that they're talking to each other like creators talking to sparklings," Arcee said, shaking her helm as we rounded another corner. "Sometimes I feel like punching something because of how oblivious they are to their own behavior."

"They really don't know how they're acting?" I asked, surprised they hadn't noticed how cheesy they were. Literally _everyone_ on base was aware of how cheesy they sounded.

The femme that captured my spark shook her helm again. "They really have no clue. They know what they're calling each other, but they have no idea how they sound, or how annoying it is to everyone else."

"But they're so obvious about it, how can they _not_ know?" I asked, mostly meaning my question as a rhetorical one.

"Guess humans in relationships are just blind," Arcee answered with a shrug. "But if they were Autobots, I bet they would notice. We Cybertronians have better vision than humans."

"Very true," I agreed. "It would be very, very difficult for them to not notice if they were Cybertronians. Better vision tends to make you more observant, and lets you see things that are right in front of you, yet haven't noticed."

My own statement caused me to come to an abrupt halt as a thought came to me. 'Are we still talking about Jack and Miko?'

Arcee, noticing I had fallen out of step with her, stopped and turned her upper chassis to look at me. "What's the holdup, Shadow'?" She asked, looking confused by my sudden stop.

'Why nothing, I was just hoping that we were no longer talking about Jack and Miko, and were instead talking about the two of us,' came the immediate reply in my helm. But, since it would clearly be a bad idea to to give an honest answer to why I stopped, I quickly glanced to the right and left for a believable excuse for why I came to a halt. Luckily for me, I stopped right next to the door to my quarters, my destination.

"This is my stop," I answered, gesturing to my door with my helm. "I'm going to browse through the internet, see if anything catches my optic, then get some recharge, since I didn't get a lot last night."

The blue and pink femme nodded in understanding. "Enjoy your extra recharge," she said with a smile, then turned around and continued walking toward the ops center. "I'm going to ground bridge to Jack's. I'll get him in even more trouble if his mom comes home and doesn't see me in the garage, it'll send the wrong message. See you next cycle, Shadow'."

"See you then," I said.

Arcee acknowledged my words with a wave over her shoulder-joint, then she was gone.

After parting company with Arcee, I entered the password to unlock my door into the control panel, then stepped inside once it opened and locked it behind me.

Once my door was locked for the night, I walked over to my desk and sat down, then connected to the internet and started to browse through any sites that might grab my interest.

One news story got my attention.

It was a story about an energy corporation called, 'Roxxon,' a company that apparently was in the middle of a huge scandal due to the actions of its top executives. The executives had been bribing or, in some cases, blackmailing a number of Senators in Congress, along with politicians in several other countries, all of them being highly developed and culturally advanced.

According to the story, whenever the Roxxon Corporation was looking to increase its profits, or saw another company that was a threat to their dominance in the energy business, particularly clean energy companies, they would lean against the politicians they had bought off. The politicians would then either be told to vote in their favor on Bills, or bring false charges against the company they viewed as a threat. Of course, the politicians had no proof to back up their accusations, but more often than not, the accused company had to appear in court to rebuke the charges. This caused most of the accused companies to have the public lose their trust in them, while Roxxon and its pristine reputation received more business, and many times would buy up the companies they framed. In short, the executives of the Roxxon Corporation were responsible for tens of thousands, if not _hundreds_ of thousands, of jobs being lost, as well as corrupting numerous votes.

'And that is why I hate greed,' I thought with a huff, thankful that being a Cybertronian meant things like that didn't effect me as much as they once did.

With the news story killing any desire I had to continue browsing the internet, I disconnected my CPU from the internet, and reached for a cube to fill with low-grade, but I froze when Arcee suddenly opened a comm-link with me.

_"Shadow'-"_ was the one word that came through the comm-link, then it became nothing but static.

_"Arcee?"_ I asked through the link urgently, already getting up and walking to the door. Something was wrong. Comm-links didn't just go dead, not when the link was clear just a moment before.

I got no response from Arcee's side of the link.

"Slag," I said as I cut the comm-link and unlocked my door, practically running out into the hallway and immediately moving to the ops center, not bothering to lock my door behind me. There was something very, _very_ wrong.

I reached the ops center in record time, my pace causing the bot on ground bridge duty, Jetfire, in this case, to look at me in surprise when I entered the room.

"Hello, youngling," the seeker said in his usual tone, then seemed to notice the urgency in my step. "What's wrong?"

I didn't bother with pleasantries. "Can you track Arcee's life signal?"

Jetfire didn't question why I was asking, and quickly brought up the screen that contained a live feed of every Autobot's vitals, which was missing Arcee's. "That can't be right. It says the signal's being jammed."

"How long ago did you send her out?" I asked quickly, ignoring the panic I felt. Arcee was in trouble, and until she was out of it, there was no place for panic.

"Five klicks ago," Jetfire replied.

"Any Decepticon activity in the area?" I followed up.

"None. And if there was, they wouldn't know to bring a jammer. Jasper's under our cloaking field, the Decepticons could fly over this area a thousand times and never know we're here," the seeker answered. "This makes no sense. She should still be on screen."

"And yet, she's not," I said, voice cold and emotionless, the gears in my helm turning as I went over the little information we had. Her signal was being jammed, and that meant she was being taken, that was the only conclusion I could reach from that. She was being taken by someone other than the Decepticons. And, unfortunately, five klicks was enough time for the party taking Arcee to get a long way away, too far for us to pinpoint her location. But, I would be damned if I was going to let an unidentified hostile force take the femme who captured my spark. I was going to find them.

As if my words were a command, the familiar pain of a vision started to pound in my helm, followed by the vision itself.

_I watched June walk out of the hospital where she worked, moving towards her car in the back of the parking lot. She seemed to be talking to herself, but I couldn't hear any of the words._

_She reached her car and took out her car keys. She went to unlock her the car, but she stopped when a black van sped through the parking lot and came to a stop next to her, almost pinning her between her car and the van._

_The side door of the van opened, revealing two well-built men wearing black clothing, ski masks, and a holographic visior over one of their eyes. Both men were wielding what appeared to be a taser-like device that fired a dart, likely a tranquilizer._

_June gasped at the sight of of the armed men, and tried to squeeze her way out from between the two vehicles._

_She only had time to take one step before one of the men shot her with his tranquilizer, dropping the woman in only two short micro-klicks._

_The second man put his tranquilizer away, and pulled June into the van and closed the door._

_With their objective secure, the driver of the van hit the gas and turned the van around. And within ten micro-klicks after they arrived, they were gone._

The vision faded, and I found myself staring at the main screen again, now knowing who was responsible for Arcee going dark.

"MECH is taking her," I said. "They abducted June Darby and are using her to get Arcee, and possibly Jack, to go where they want. And they probably killed the S.T.F team that was assigned to keep Jack and June safe when we weren't around."

"You're certain?" Jetfire asked, then took one look at my faceplate. "Of course you are." He started typing commands into the workstation. "I'm going to contact General Shepherd. He's _definitely_ going to want to know MECH's in the area."

"They won't get here in time," I said, turning and walking toward the entrance tunnel. "I'm going to defy Ratchet's orders and leave base. I need to find her."

"MECH's going to have her go somewhere remote," Jetfire said, not even trying to argue with me. "Look for abandoned buildings beyond the limits of Jasper, I would bet anything they're hiding out in one of those. Just don't know which one, or ones."

Jetfire's statement caused me to come to a halt just as I was about to transform into my MRAP form and drive out of the entrance tunnel, another vision flashing before me.

_Without trying to, I followed Arcee as she sped down the main road of Jasper, while Jack, sitting on the seat of her alt mode, held a PDA-like device in his hand, looking very worried about something._

_Jack said something I couldn't hear, and Jack turned off onto a dirt road well outside Jasper. He was giving her directions, and I would bet a hundred cubes of high-grade that the PDA device was providing them._

_After a few micro-klicks, Arcee and Jack rolled through the open gate to an abandoned complex of buildings, a complex I recognized as an old cement factory I had seen many times while on air patrol._

_Arcee and Jack continued through the complex, before the door to the main building opened, revealing Silas and at least two dozen MECH soldiers._

_The femme who captured my spark sped pass them and went into the main building, only stopping when she and Jack reached a large, open room in the middle of the building, where lab equipment was visible almost everywhere I looked._

_Jack got off Arcee and shouted out a single word I couldn't hear, likely calling for his mother._

_Almost immediately after Jack called out, a black and purple femme that was an exact match to the description Jack gave of Airachnid dropped down from the ceiling, a look of sadistic pleasure in her purple optics and on her faceplate as she gazed down at Jack, likely mocking him._

_Arcee, noticing the femme that most certainly was Airachnid, quickly transformed into her true form and glared up at her, keeping her chassis between Airachnid and Jack._

_Airachnid smiled at Arcee and shot what appeared to be synthetic webbing at her, the substance wrapping around Arcee's upper frame and trapping her servos at her sides._

_After Arcee was trapped by Airachnid, Silas and the MECH soldiers stepped into the room, all of them besides Silas pointing their weapons at the femme I loved._

_Arcee said something to Silas that I didn't hear, giving the psychopathic human a pleading look._

_Silas' response was to glance at one of his men, who then shot Arcee with a missile from a M-320A, which, instead of exploding, released an electric shock, likely an EMP, on Arcee, and she fell over, temporarily offline._

_My vision seemingly sped up, and then continued to move at normal speed with Silas standing in front of a group of computer monitors, watching Jack run in and out of the frames of what could only be security cameras._

_The psychopathic human turned away from the monitors, and directed his attention to where his men were surrounding Arcee with drills, saws, and magnets, and jars, which were likely there to take samples of energon or store parts that caught their interest._

_After Silas exchanged a brief word with one of his men, the MECH soldiers activated the machinery around Arcee, and started moving the drills toward her chassis, mostly focusing on the area directly above her spark._

Once again, the vision faded away, and I was back to standing in the ops center, only all thought had left me.

They were going to open Arcee up like a dissected Frog, learn why the Cybertronian race had genders, how to make more of us, and how to cause us the most pain possible. And they'd learn it all from Arcee.

I clenched my fist so hard that I felt the joints in my digits stretch.

They were going to use Arcee, my spark, my everything, then discard what was left in the trash.

**'They. Will. All. _Die,_'** a dark part of my CPU whispered, drowning out my rational thoughts that told me I needed to remain calm if I was going to help Arcee.

Jetfire, having more than likely noticed my mood, asked, "Are you alright, youngling?"

I didn't answer, since my vision went red at that moment, and any rational thoughts that remained vanished in an instant. I felt like I was in a dream, feeling far stronger than I actually was, but not in control of my own frame. My processor was blank, no thought was going through it, save one.

Protect my spark, my everything, no matter the cost.

I heard myself growl, a low, guttural noise that sounded like it fitted a raging Tiger more so than a Cybertronian, and I felt myself transform into my F-22 form.

My engines activated without me telling them to, and I sped through the entrance tunnel at just under the speed of sound, slowling down only marginally to fire a Nucleon shot at the stone entrance to our base, then flying through the flames where our entrance used to be, and redoubling my speed once I was in the open air.

I watched as I adjusted my flight path and headed directed toward the cement factory, pure, white-hot rage being the only thing I felt.

* * *

><p>Jetfire stared at where Shadowstreaker stood a moment ago, not reacting at all when he heard an explosion from the entrance tunnel, or felt the air rush by as the pressure inside the base changed.<p>

The growl the youngling uttered had made him feel like the temperature of the ops center had gone down a few degrees, and he hadn't even been on the receiving end of it.

Only once before in his long life had he felt that feeling, and it had been long before the war, when a mech found out his courted had been grievously wounded in a robbery gone wrong. The mech had gone mad and tried to leave the building he worked, intent on tracking down the would-be thief himself. Enforcers stopped the mech from leaving the building, but it took seven of them to restrain him, and an eighth to sedate him. And the mech had only been two thirds the size of just _one_ of the Enforcers.

Shadowstreaker was much stronger and larger than those Enforcers had been. And if Jetfire's suspicion about what happened to the youngling was correct, that could only mean bad things. _Really_ bad things.

Jetfire shook himself from his thoughts and turned to the workstation as Prowl, Smokescreen, and Bumblebee came running into the ops center with their weapons deployed, likely thinking the base was under attack after hearing Shadowstreaker blow open the front door.

Prowl looked around the ops center for a moment, searching for targets. But he found none and looked at Jetfire. "Jetfire, report. What was that?"

Jetfire ignored the tactician and opened a channel with Optimus, who currently was patrolling in Arizona. _"Prime, we have a serious situation."_

* * *

><p>June Darby felt her heart soar as she watched her son climb a ladder leading up to the platform her cocoon of... Web, if it could be called that, was dangling from. He didn't even looked fazed by the situation, he just focused on climbing and getting up to her. If she wasn't in danger of falling two-hundred feet to her death, she would have been proud.<p>

She waited until her son was up on the platform, panting for breath after his long climb, before launching into the series of questions she had been holding in since she woke up in her cocoon, "Jack, what's going on?! How'd I get up in this... Stuff?! Where are we?! Who are these people?! What are you running from?!"

Her son ignored her questions. "Don't worry, mom, I'm going to get you ou-"

Her son was cut off by a giant, spider-like leg pounding into the cement wall of the structure next to the platform she and Jack were on.

Another leg pounded into the wall of the structure, followed by another, and another, until a giant robot spider... _Thing_ pulled itself up the side of the structure.

The robot spider thing smiled cruelly at June and laughed, a horrible sound that was closer to a hiss, then it flexed the legs, which June noticed were attached to its back, and propelled itself the rest of the way up the structure and stood at its apex.

"I beat your deadline!" Jack yelled at the spider thing defiantly, staring into the robot's sadistic purple eyes.

"I'm afraid not, Jack," the spider thing replied with a sicking glee, its voice sounding female to June. And now that she really looked at the spider thing, she saw it had curves almost exactly like that of a human woman, only hidden by the spider-like legs coming out of her back. "You see, I never intended on _actually_ letting you go," June watched as the spider thing shot a web-like substance from one of her palms, hitting Jack's arm and pinning him to the platform. "It was just my way of giving you something to work for," she crawled down the structure until she was right in front of her son. "The prospect of seeing you run around, thinking you could save your mother, was just too much _fun_ to pass up. And you know how I like having a good time, Jack."

Jack glared into the spider thing's face, no fear in his eyes, just anger. "You go to _hell,"_ he growled, surprising June with the ferocity he put behind the short statement.

The spider thing laugh-hissed again, appearing to be genuinely amused by Jack's defiance. "Oh, Jack, I will miss you once you're eviscerated. It has been a long time since one of my trophies put up such a fight. I think the last one was your guardian, too bad this is the last night for both of you," she said with a twisted smile, and a hidden meaning behind her words that June didn't catch, but made her son glare even more at the spider thing and fight to free himself from the web-like substance trapping his arm.

The female robot watched him struggle for a few moments, then laugh-hissed again and climbed back up to the top of the structure next to the platform. She spread her arms out. "Sit back, Jack, relax, and enjoy the horror-"

A huge, black shape, darker than the night sky above them, suddenly slammed into the back of the spider thing, cutting the spider thing off and sending both the shape and the spider thing to the ground, but at the same time blowing out the hearing in June's left ear as a sonic boom passed over her.

Biting back a yell of pain, June looked down at the ground and saw the spider thing crash into the ground and move only slightly, while the thing that slammed into her, now revealed to be a far larger, heavily built black robot that was likely male, landed on his feet and slowly stalked toward the downed female, his every movement radiating anger.

"Mom!" Jack cried, causing June to look up and see that her son had freed himself and was now trying to pull her up onto the platform he was lying on. "Don't move, I don't know how moving this will effect its strength."

"_Jack_... What's going on?" June asked slowly, turning back to look at the two giant robots.

The spider thing apparently was faking any injuries she had, and was attacking the larger male with all eight of the legs on her back, each moving at speeds June could barely follow.

The male, however, was completely unfazed, and his hands were a black blur as he blocked each strike the female threw at him. After a moment, the male threw his fist forward so quickly that June didn't even see it move and hit the female in the gut, causing her to double over and spit out a bright blue liquid from her mouth. The male then proceeded to grab the female by the throat, toss her up in the air, then heel kicked her into the largest building in the complex before she hit the ground.

Not two seconds after the female went flying through the wall of the building, the male rushed into the hole she made, moving at a speed she wasn't sure was possible for something that moved on legs.

After the brawling titans disappeared into the building, and gunfire from the men that took her started to sound, June looked up at her son for answers.

Jack looked up and to the left for a moment, a sign he was trying to come up with an answer, then looked back at his mother. "It's _really_ complicated."

* * *

><p>Clancy watched as his men finally got the synthetic webbing off Arcee's inactive body. It had taken a surprisingly long time, considering they were using Adamantium Diboride drills with Synthetic Nanocrystalline Diamond tips. But, delays were to be expected when dealing with material created by a race that was an uncountable number of years more advanced than humanity.<p>

'Now comes the hard part,' Clancy thought, watching eagerly as his men started to move the drills to where Arcee would have a stomach if she was human, where their scans said her metal skin was weakest. Hopefully, they could pierce that area with the drill, and drill up toward the heart, the part Clancy wanted to examine the most, followed closely by any potential reproductive systems they might find. He couldn't create his own Cybertronians if he didn't know how the originals were made.

Clancy brought himself out of his brief thoughts when his radio beeped at him, signaling that the pilot of his Pave Low, which Clancy had patrolling the skies along with his two Apaches, wanted to talk to him.

Sighing in annoyance, Clancy pulled his radio off his belt and brought it up to his mouth. "What?" He grunted without looking away from his men as they started up their drills again. He was so close to finally understanding how a Cybertronian worked.

_"Sir!"_ His Pave Low pilot said over the radio. "_A bogey just flew right pass me and it's heading your way. _Fast!_"_

Clancy's face scrunched in confusion. A fast-mover? From who?

The leader of MECH's question wasn't answered, because at that moment, a sonic boom sounded through the air, causing Clancy to drop his radio and cover his ears.

After a few seconds, Clancy uncovered his ears, immediately hearing loud clangs of metal hitting against metal. Airachnid was evidently fighting against the fast-mover, who apparently was an Autobot. What Decepticon would come to save an Autobot?

Clancy looked at his men, who had turned their equipment off and were now looking at him for orders. "We have an unexpected guest, grab your 320s and get read-

Clancy's world exploded around him before he could finish his sentence, and he saw it all.

Airachnid came through the wall, sending chunks of concrete the size of his chest in all directions, with a few chunks killing a pair of his men that were unfortunate enough to be in the path of the debris. Airachnid didn't stop moving, and went clean through the wall on the other side of the room, and back outside.

Clancy's men had no time to recover from the destruction, since the Autobot Clancy's mole told him was called 'Shadowstreaker', who had threatened and mocked him back during Christmas, appeared in the hole in the wall that Airachnid had made.

Before most of Clancy's men had time to point their weapons at him, Shadowstreaker deployed a double-barreled weapon from his left hand and started shooting. First, he shot at his soldiers, reducing a dozen of them to ashes in half as many seconds as angry red bullets of energy hit them. Then he shot at the machinery, destroying the drills, saws, and computers that were all around the room. And by the time his men started to shoot back, Shadowstreaker had killed eighteen soldiers, destroyed all of Clancy's equipment, and positioned himself above the unmoving Arcee, preventing any of his men from getting anywhere near her..

Clancy, seeing his men getting slaughtered, ran to his right, where he had his men stache a crate of AT-5s, an upgraded AT-4 that fired a rocket that contained five times the explosives as the normal version.

He reached the crate and popped it open, taking an AT-5 out and putting it on his shoulder before the top of the crate had fallen to the floor. Clancy removed the safety pin at the back of the tube, lined up the crosshairs on Shadowstreaker, then pulled the trigger.

The rocket launched out of the tube at two-hundred and eighty-five meters per second, covering the roughly seventy foot distance between Clancy and Shadowstreaker in approximately seventy-five milliseconds, or under one tenth of a second. It was a guaranteed hit, since Shadowstreaker was busy fighting Clancy's soldiers, and also had his back to Clancy himself.

Faster than Clancy's eyes could follow, Shadowstreaker whirled around, caught the rocket between his middle and index fingers, crushed it in his hand, then resumed his slaughter of Clancy's men.

Clancy stood there, not believing what he just witnessed, but also unable to deny it. Shadowstreaker had just _caught_ a missile in his hand like it was a Nerf dart, then destroyed the missile and continued fighting without missing a beat.

For the first time since he was a young child, believing there was a monster under his bed, Clancy was afraid.

Clancy continued to stand there, unmoving, until he realized it was quiet. He looked around, and quickly saw that all of his men were dead, the majority now nothing more than ashes on the floor.

He had failed.

The leader of what remained of MECH looked up when he heard heavy footsteps approaching, and did everything he could to not wet himself when he saw two blood red mechanical eyes staring at him with enough anger to put the worst men Silas had met to shame.

Shadowstreaker stopped just a one of his giant steps away from Clancy, his optics boring a hole into the man's soul. With an almost annoyed huff, though it sounded more like a Lion's growl, Shadowstreaker pointed his weapon at the ceiling and fired a short burst, then turned and walked away, moving toward the second hole Airachnid made on her way through the room.

After Shadowstreaker walked away, Silas heard the sound of metal groaning from above him.

He looked up... And the last thing his eyes took in was a Steel I-beam detaching from the ceiling and falling straight toward him.

* * *

><p>Airachnid was slow to get up. Her sensors were offline, one of her optics was cracked, her tank felt like it had been the punching bag for a squad of Wreckers, and three of her back pedes were broken from being thrown through two walls. In all, she felt like slag. She had to admit, Arcee's latest mech toy threw a lot of power into his punches, as well as his kicks.<p>

Slowly, and carefully, Airachnid pushed herself off the ground, then up onto her knee-joints. She tried to get on her pedes, but found she lacked the strength to do so, meaning she couldn't use the destruction of her uneasy allies, who she could hear fighting Arcee's mech toy, as cover for her escape.

Airachnid, knowing she had nowhere to go, and no way to get there, simply sat there on her knee-joints, waiting for Arcee's mech toy to finish off the humans and come for her, which she knew he would.

It didn't take long to finish them off, a klick, maybe two. Humans never stood a chance against a Cybertronian.

Arcee's mech toy walked through the hole in the building she had made on the flight he sent her on, his blood red optics blazing with fury.

Airachnid looked up into the sky as the sounds of helicopter rotors reached her audio receptors, though Shadowstreaker ignored them and continued to walk toward her.

Not long after she first heard them, the human helicopters Airachnid flew with appeared in the sky, and the two smaller helicopters opened fire on Arcee's mech toy with their thirty millimeter gatling guns, while the larger helicopter fired hundreds of micro missiles at the advancing Autobot.

Without looking, Arcee's mech toy deployed a modified Path Blaster from his right servo, and shot one of the smaller helicopters in the tail rotor, sending it into a spin and, because it was still firing at him, to riddle the other two helicopters with thirty millimeter sabot rounds, sending the other smaller helicopter into a spin as well. But the larger helicopter, however, was hit in one of its missile pods, and it vanished in a blinding explosion that caught the two smaller helicopters in its fireball, further increasing the force and power of the detonation and hurting Airachnid's audio receptors.

With the last of the humans dead, Arcee's mech toy let his servo fall to his side as he reached Airachnid, but he kept his Path Blaster deployed.

Well aware of the fact she was cornered, and that Arcee's mech toy wouldn't show her any mercy, Airachnid launched one of her unbroken back pedes forward, intended to hit his neck to at least stun him, or, hopefully, sever one of his main veins and offline him.

The Autobot's left servo moved faster than Airachnid could see, and he caught her back pede before it even got close to his neck, and snapped it effortlessly.

Airachnid cried out in pain as her back pede was broken, but her cry was cut off by Arcee's mech toy pointing his Path Blaster between her optics and firing.

* * *

><p>My pure, white-hot rage vanished, and I onlined from my dream-like state. I was clutching one of the snapped back pedes of Airachnid in my left servo, preventing the sadistic femme, who was now sporting a massive hole between her optics, from falling to the ground.<p>

I let go of the broken appendage, letting the offlined Airachnid fall to the ground limply, and looked at my right servo. It had my Path Blaster deployed, but I never sent the mental command for it to do so.

'Did... Did everything I saw really happen?' I asked myself, and looked up and to my right, where I had seen a Pave Low and two Apache helicopters be shot down in my dream-like state.

There was barely anything left, but I could clearly see the burning wreckage of the helicopters.

I did that.

Turning around, I saw two giant holes in the building I had seen in my vision, as well as what remained of destroyed lab equipment and an unmoving Arcee, still offline and wrapped in the webbing Airachnid trapped her in.

I took a step toward Arcee, but suddenly I felt nearly all my strength leave me, as if it had been sucked out of me, and I fell down on my servos and knee-joints. I struggled to even stay up in my humble position, but I lost my struggle and fell on my chestplates, forced to look at the burning wreckage of the helicopters or lay on my faceplate.

As I laid there, staring at what I had done, I started to hear the sounds of various engines. Some of them had a familiar rumble or whine to them, but most sounded unfamilar. My fellow Autobots were coming, and were likely bringing Shadow Company with them.

The last of my strength left me, and my optics started to close as the engines got louder. But, I managed to get one last thought in before my world went dark.

What happened to me?

* * *

><p><strong>May 25, 2013 11:21 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

I became aware that I was online again, and I slowly opened my optics, the med-bay ceiling being the first thing that I saw. I must have been moved here after I offlined.

"So, you're online, youngling," the voice of Jetfire said off to my right, causing me to turn my helm and see the seeker standing next to my berth, along with Optimus, with Moonracer and Ratchet standing at the med-bay computer. Optimus must have onlined them from their recharge.

"Where's Arcee? Is she alright?" I asked, concerned that I didn't see her in the med-bay, and the last time I saw her was when she was offline and trapped in the webbing of Airachnid.

My statement caused Moonracer and Ratchet to give each other a look, not a grim one, but a knowing one, as if my words just confirmed a suspicion. Odd.

"She is fine, Shadowstreaker," Optimus answered, the look on his faceplate completely blank like it had been when I spoke with him about the dream I had. "Moonracer treated her for some minor EMP damage, and she was released from the med-bay almost a breem ago."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Good. I didn't see her moving when I was there," I said. "How are June and Jack?"

"Suffering from temporary hearing loss, and June is in shock from learning of our existence in such a... _Traumatic_ manner, but Colonel Lennox has assured me that they will both make a full recovery." Optimus answered again, either inadvertently or purposely reminding me that I had partially contributed to their pain, since I had seen myself slam into Airachnid at supersonic speeds, and had most certainly exposed Jack and June to the full force of a sonic boom, something I never would have done had I been in control of myself. And from the look I saw in all of my fellow Autobots, they knew I hadn't been myself.

I looked at Optimus for answers. "What happened to me?"

"Your Quriomus Protocol activated," Moonracer said, answering my question instead of Optimus.

I shifted my attention to her. "What's the Quriomus Protocol?" I asked. I had never even heard that name since I became a Cybertronian, and I had heard a lot of names.

"It is an ultra-rare protocol that has only been found in mechs. And it cannot be passed down from sire to son, it develops in seemingly random mechs. Only one in one point seven trillion mechs is born with it," the green and white femme replied, her usual tone and mannerisms completely devoid from her voice and chassis, replaced by professional ones.

Pushing aside the surprise I felt at hearing how rare the Protocol was, I asked, "What exactly is it?"

"It is a protective protocol. Its purpose is to protect someone close to the mech who has the protocol when it becomes active. It is simply more... Extreme than others," Moonracer responded. "When it activates, it overclocks the system of the mech that has the protocol. His CPU speeds up, allowing him to have a reaction time of almost zero, and instantly analyze everything around him. The nanites running through his veins multiply exponentially, allowing him to heal from nearly any injury in a matter of micro-klicks. The mech's cables also tighten, which allows him to move each limb at speeds he normally would not able to come close to reaching, while at the same time multiplying his strength to unheard of levels. But, for all these improvements, the Quriomus Protocol has two flaws. The first is that it causes the mech to burn through his energon at an alarming rate, which is why you fell offline after your Quriomus Protocol deactivated. The other flaw is that it shuts down all thoughts, sending the mech into a dream-like state, and makes the mech focus on one thing. Protecting the one close to the mech" she paused for a moment, as if thinking of how to continue. "Have you experienced a... Pulling sensation when you are around Arcee? Perhaps accompanied by an electric shock?"

I frowned. How'd she know about the Pulling? I had done everything I could to not let anyone know about it. "Yes. I experienced something like that on the night we discovered the Delphic was a power source, and have experienced it every thirty solar-cycles since. But what does that have to do with anything?"

Moonracer ignored me and looked at Ratchet. "Less recent than I was expecting. He must have Imprinted on her well before we rescued Breakdown from MECH's clutches."

My frown deepened. What was she talking about? "What does 'Imprinted' mean?"

Optimus shared a look with Ratchet and Moonracer, then looked at me. "It is an unknown phenomena, one that is nearly as rare as the Quriomus Protocol," he said. "From what little examples we have on Imprints, they typically form between very close friends of opposite gender, and not typically formed between bots who met and immediately began to court. The Imprint is usually initiated by the mech, though on rare occasions it is initiated by the femme."

"But what _is_ an Imprint?!" I asked, almost straining my voice with urgency. I wanted an answer, and this cryptic explanation wasn't giving me one. Although, I got the feeling I wasn't going to like what Optimus' reply was going to be...

The Prime blinked, completely unfazed by my tone. "It is a spark reaching out for another, wanting to join with the one it has deemed its second half. But when the spark does not come into contact with its second half for a period of time, it becomes... Unstable, and in mechs results in their Quriomus Protocol activating if the femme is in danger."

I went numb, immediately understanding the Prime's meaning. "You mean-"

"That at some point you, or your spark, either consciously or subconsciously, asked Arcee to be your sparkmate? Yes, he does," Jetfire interrupted. "And, apparently, you asked her a long time ago, youngling."

I stared at Jetfire blankly, trying to take in what he just said. Somehow, someway, I had reached out to Arcee and asked her to be my sparkmate, when we weren't even courting. I obviously hadn't consciously done so, but that didn't change the fact that I did it in the first place. Arcee was going to _destroy_ me when she found out. _If_ she found out

"Who else knows?" I asked quietly, unable to push aside my shock and use my normal tone.

"Only the four of us know you even have the Protocol," Ratchet replied. "Your two medics, the mech who witnessed your protocol activating, and Prime, who already had suspected you had the Quriomus Protocol."

I looked at Optimus slowly, still too shocked by learning I subconsciously Imprinted on Arcee. "You held back in our conversation early in the cycle," I stated matter-of-factly.

"I did not want to tell you unless I was absolutely certain my suspicions were correct," the Prime said. "And your Protocol activated before I confirmed any of them."

"And, in turn, my Protocol activating confirmed all of your suspicions at once," I said, again stating a fact. I sat up on the medical berth I had been lying on, then looked at all of my fellow Autobots. "If you don't mind, I would like some time by myself. This... Is a lot to take in."

Optimus nodded in understanding. "Of course, Shadowstreaker," he said, then turned and walked toward the door, gesturing for the others to follow him, which they did.

After Optimus and the others left, I just sat there on the berth, thinking about everything I had just learned.

But, I didn't get to think about it long, since the med-bay door opened again less than a klick after the others left me to think.

I turned my helm and saw Arcee walking through the doorway, her faceplate lacking the humor she had the last time I saw her.

"Hey, partner," she said quietly in greeting, voice fitting the look on her faceplate.

"Hey," I greeted back, giving her a concerned look. "Optimus told me you were fine, but I need to hear for myself, how are you doing?"

The femme I apparently subconsciously Imprinted on gave a light sigh. "I'm tired, sore, and honestly shaken up, but I could be worse," she answered, then shook her helm and gave me a look that was nearly identical to the one I was giving her. "What about you?"

"The same, but I'll be alright," I said. "Just glad you, Jack, and June are alright."

"I hear you're the only reason we are," Arcee said, the look in her optics completely unreadable.

"Technically, the Primes are the only reason you're alright, I wouldn't have known where you were without receiving my visions," I said.

"But in the end, you were the one who came flying in to save Jack, June, and little old me," she joked, one of the corners of her mouth twitching upward in a smile. "Sounds like something out of a cheesy human movie. The hero swoops in to save the helpless innocents and the '_damsel in distress.'_"

I chuckled lightly at her joke. "I would hardly consider you a damsel, closer to the hero," I said.

Arcee looked at me, her optics shining with her usual mischief, which had been absent up until now. "You saying I'm not a proper femme?" She asked, meaning it as a joke.

If only she knew. "Of course not," I said with a chuckle. "I am just saying that if had been online, you would have been the one fighting MECH and Airachnid, not me. You probably would have taken them both out a lot quicker than I did, as well."

The mischief faded from Arcee's optics. "But I wasn't, Shadow', I was offline the entire time. I didn't even online until the others brought us back to base." She looked down slightly, just enough to not look directly into my optics. "Airachnid and MECH would have won, Jack and his mom would be dead, and I would have been offlined."

I opened my mouth to speak, but she suddenly reached out and wrapped her servos around me, hugging me tightly. And since I was sitting on the berth and she was standing, she was nearly as tall as I was, meaning her helm was resting on my shoulder-joint.

"Thank you, Shadow'... Thank you for making sure that didn't happen," she whispered into my audio receptor, making no move to break from the hug. "Thank you for ending Airachnid, and making sure she couldn't do what she did to me to someone else."

I wrapped my own servos around her and hugged back. "Anytime... Partner," I whispered back, tightening my hug and resting my helm on her own shoulder-joint.

As we continued to just hold each other, I felt the familiar sensation of the Pulling, my spark subconsciously reaching out for Arcee's, and being denied. But oddly, no electric shock came with this Pulling instance, just the normal pulling, like my spark was being tugged by a rope. And when the Pulling ended, I was left with a dull ache in my spark that refused to go away, like I was out of contact with my best friend.

I waited for Arcee to react to the Pulling, my Imprint, but she didn't. She just kept hugging me, seemingly unaware of the Pulling instance.

It was at that moment that I had a realization that made me both excited and terrified, a realization that I couldn't keep this up for much longer.

I was going to have to tell her.

* * *

><p><strong>So, now you know what the Pulling is, and how it effects Shadow' and Arcee. I know that Imprinting is a term used across the fandom, and that it doesn't mean what I have written it as, but I have changed it to suit my needs. If I saw Shadow' with his protocol activated, I would honestly crap my pants. And I am the one who CREATED the character.<strong>

**I also know some of you are probably mad that I killed off Airachnid and MECH in the same go, but you know what? In canon, they really didn't do that much. I mean, Airachnid attacked the Nemesis with Insecticons in season 2, but she didn't really do any damage. And MECH was honestly non-existent in the second season, they did basically nothing. And I have more than enough baddies already lined up, don't worry about the lack of other villains for later on.**

**As for the ending... I can safely say the next chapter is one that I have looked forward to writing for a long time. ;)**

**One final note. I was looking through the TF fandom, both in this cartoon section and the movie, and I found that with this chapter, Fate Calls has become the longest story with Arcee as a main character, or a "face" character, since she is one of the characters I listed. I don't know about other sites, however, so this might just be the longest story with Arcee as a main character on THIS site, but I still find that awesome. And I have a long ways to go yet. :)**

**This chapter has two credit songs. One for when Shadow's protocol activates, and the scenes that go with it, and the other for the very end of the chapter.**

**The first credit song is "Phantom Power Music - Glitch Gang" This has a dark, aggressive feel to it that just fits with Shadow's protocol activating. The scenes that follow, are obviously not nice, fluffy ones, so having a song with a darker feel to it fits perfectly, in my opinion.**

**The second credit song is "G.D. Music - Only We Remained" It just feels right, when I listen to this and read the conversation between Shadow' and Arcee. I really don't know what else to say, it just feels right.**

**Well, that's all for now, folks. Please leave a review, as feedback of any kind helps and inspires me, and thank you all for taking the time to read. I will, hopefully, see you sooner than this last one. :)**


	32. Attempt at Confessing

**Well, this chapter kicked my butt for a while. I had a stretch of four days or so where I wrote only about a hundred words combined, a fifth of what I try to write each day. So that certainly didn't help with finishing this chapter. But, I still finished this chapter a week faster than my last, which is never a bad thing.**

**Let's see, what's new with me? Well, I have decided to not have my original series be science fiction novels. I realized I would need to put probably a year or two just into research in order to write a decent science fiction novel, so I have changed them to something else. I already have more ideas for my books than I did before I changed genres, so I think it will go more smoothly than science fiction. And that's pretty much the only thing I can think of to put here.**

**As always, thanks go to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or followed Fate Calls. Your feedback and support really means a lot to me. :)**

**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**************Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.**************

* * *

><p><strong>May 26, 2013 3:05 A.M. (UTC-6:00 Mountain Standard Time)<strong>

**Unknown ship, far side of Eris**

In the unending vastness of the Cosmos, a blue-black, kilometer wide portal to the extra-dimensional space between realities appeared between a large dwarf planet and its small moon. Immediately after the portal opened, a grey ship exited out of it.

No more than one micro-klick after the grey ship appeared, the portal it came from closed, leaving the ship floating between the dwarf planet and its moon.

The ship was sleek, yet bulky, its edges both smooth and rough, like it was designed for efficiency, and nothing else. It had no visible weapon systems, but it was far from being an unarmed vessel. It had one-hundred and twenty-eight missile tubes built into the top of the ship, ninety-six broadside cannons on both its port and starboard sides, anti-fighter and missile defense batteries, two directional main cannons on the bow, and another mounted on its stern. All of these weapon systems were hidden from view, locked behind doors made of ultra-strong alloys, where they would stay until they were needed.

At one point six kilometers in length, the ship was massive to most civilizations. But to those that crewed the vessel, it was a stealth frigate. As a stealth frigate, it had only one mission at a time. And the mission it and its crew were in the process of carrying out was the most important they had ever undertaken.

To find the Xel'Tor.

On the bridge of the ship, which had been named 'Inescapable Shadow' by its crew, a mech sat in the captain's chair on the bridge.

The mech was mostly silver and gold in color, with red accents on his shoulder-joints and pedes. His optics were amber, the result of his carrier and sire both having rare optic colors, orange and yellow. He was taller than most mechs, standing at forty-seven feet, but he was also shorter than many, like the dark grey, almost black, and red mech standing next to his chair, Extremis' SIC, Praxis.

"Navigation, status," Jhaxius, the captain, said to the navigator of the Inescapable Shadow, a red mech called Highspeed.

"Sub-space jump was successful, rupture has closed behind us," Highspeed reported blankly, having stated that exact report many times in his career as a navigations officer. The red mech waved his servo over the holographic interface of his station, causing the screen of his station to display the stars and planets around the Inescapable Shadow and match them to data given to the crew by the Intelligence Division. "Scans confirm we are in the solar system where Station A4-D718 transmitted a positive sighting."

"What is our exact position in the system?" Jhaxius asked.

"Very edge of the system, Captain Jhaxius," the navigator reported, not removing his gaze from his station. "We're less than twenty-thousand kilometers from the most distant dwarf planet that orbits the system's star. The closest celestial body that isn't the nearby moon is just under ten-billion kilometers away. The ship's well out of the scanning range of both the Autobot and Decepticon forces, presuming they do not have ships or stations built in the immediate area." He turned slightly and looked at his captain. "We're at the exact coordinates we entered into the computer, sir."

'Yes, but it took us an entire mega-cycle to get here,' Jhaxius thought with an internal huff. Spending an entire mega-cycle staring at the blue-black walls of a sub-space portal, with Praxis seemingly watching his every move, was _not_ Jhaxius' definition of an exciting mega-cycle. He would call it dull.

But, the trip could have been worse. Far worse. They could still be using standard FTL, which would have taken them six jours to get to this system, almost three times the amount of time it took the transmission from Station A-4 to reach Extremis' HQ. It was amazing how far their technology had advanced since that station was sent out of the system he had called home for the last five-thousand centi-vorns. Now their method of travel was faster than the FTL channels they used in the construction of Station A4-D178, the same as the Decepticons and Autobots used.

Jhaxius made no indication that he heard Highspeed, and looked toward the Inescapable Shadow's resident Intelligence officer, a little green mech, both psychically and figuratively, called Axel. "Status on the mining of the data network of the local organic race." He ordered.

"Data mine is complete, Jha- er, Captain Jhaxius," Axel stuttered slightly, showing his inexperience by almost breaking protocol and referring to the captain by just his name instead of his rank and name. He moved his servo over his holographic station, then pointed toward the main view port of the bridge. "Displaying results now, sir."

After Axel spoke, the images on his station transferred to the view port of the bridge, giving the entire bridge crew the chance to see the results data mining of the organic race's data network, which contained all information Axel had labeled as important, but filtered all other data he marked as unessential.

"So, they're called 'humans.' And they're not an old race. Less than a centi-vorn since their first historical records? This ship is older than they are," a blue and red mech by the name of Hardside observed from his damage control station.

"Young and violent. If that information is accurate, they've waged more than three-thousand wars amongst themselves since they began to record their history," another damage control officer, a violet femme named Altera, said. "Roughly comes out to another war every other orbital-cycle. How are they even alive?"

"Probably a stubborn determination to keep on surviving, even when they continually destroy each other." Another femme called Serus, red in color and also the Inescapable Shadow's weapon systems officer, said from her own station.

Jhaxius tuned out the chatter of many of his bridge crew and looked at Axel again. "Threat assessment of the humans?"

Axel moved his servo over his station and pointed at the view port again, causing new images and documents to overlap the first. "Minimal, Jha- er, sir. Intelligence was right, they're a Tier 4 race. They have only just started to leave their planet, and only for short periods of time. The only weapon they possess that is a threat to our safety is their unusually large arsenal of nuclear warheads."

"How many warheads do they possess?" Praxis asked, voice devoid of emotion like it always was.

Axel jumped slightly as Extremis' SIC spoke for the first time, and Jhaxius couldn't blame the green mech for doing so. Praxis carried a reputation that was nearly as fearsome as Extremis'. "Um, let me check if they keep an exact number on their data network," he said nervously, then turned back to his station, making an obvious effort to keep from looking directly at Praxis.

After a few micro-klicks, Axel put a new image on the view port, this one of an overhead map of the organic's home world. "Roughly seventeen-thousand total warheads of various yields, sir. Combined, I estimate they total to about two gigatons of destructive force."

Jhaxius mentally calculated how much destruction two gigatons could inflict on a world. "That is enough warheads to cause a nuclear winter across their planet, and crack our shielding three times over." He gestured to the map. "Which landmasses have the most nuclear weapons?"

Axel modified the image being displayed on the view port, turning certain landmasses darker or lighter colors. "The humans are very divided. More than one-hundred and ninety nations are scattered across their planet. I have marked the nations that have nuclear weapons inside their borders. However, the number of weapons each nation has in their possession is very uneven." He swiped at his station, causing the images being displayed to highlight two of the larger landmasses. "These two nations, the United States of America and the Russian Federation, account for more than ninety-nine percent of all nuclear warheads the humans have in their possession."

"Then it would be a good idea to give those nations a wide berth," Jhaxius said. "What of the Autobots? Is there any information about their possible location on the human data network?"

Axel shifted nervously in his chair, optics moving from side to side as he tried to come up with a way to tell his captain what else he had found, before deciding blunt honesty was the best course of action. "Uh, that is the problem, Captain Jhaxius. I know their rough location."

Jhaxius' amber optics narrowed. "Why is that a problem?"

The green mech flinched at his captain's tone. "Well, ah, they're somewhere in the United States of America, if the internal reports of this 'S.T.F 141' group are correct."

"What reports?" Jhaxius asked, glancing briefly at the view port to see if he missed any information related to the group Axel mentioned. But he found that he hadn't.

Axel closed his optics and sighed. "And I forgot to put those up," he said, his words meant more for himself than the others on the bridge. He moved his servo over his station and pointed at the view port, causing dozens of new pieces of information to appear in the form of official military reports written by one 'Lieutenant General Lance Shepherd' to another human named 'Director Theodore Galloway.' Every document had the first three initials Axel mentioned at the top.

"What are we looking at?" Highspeed asked.

"Reports written by this 'General Shepherd,' he is apparently the leader of the S.T.F 141, a military group with soldiers and funding from multiple nations, but they are based in the United States of America," Axel explained. "It was formed after Decepticons attacked a United States military base four orbital-cycles ago, and they've been developing technology to help them fight the Decepticons, should they be attacked again. I found that General Shepherd has frequently mentioned several known Autobots in his reports, along with 'Autobot Outpost Omega-1,' which I assume is the Autobot base. And if the general is mentioning known Autobots and referring to their base in his reports, and his military group is based in the United States, then the Autobots and the Xel'Tor are going to be somewhere within the borders of that nation."

Jhaxius gave Axel a long look, surprised that the inexperienced mech had managed to connect the dots and come to the conclusion that the Autobots were within the borders of the United States, a conclusion that Jhaxius agreed with. Axel had a good future ahead of him, if he continued to do work like that. "Do these reports say where the Autobot base is located?"

"No," Axel answered without pause. "I went through them all, and this General Shepherd either consciously or subconsciously makes certain not to mention any locations that aren't main settlements. I believe he knows that their cybersecurity is very weak, and doesn't want to compromise the location of the Autobots' base."

"So, we need to find a way to get the Autobots to come out of their hiding place. We can't take out the Xel'Tor if we don't know where he is." Jhaxius concluded, gears turning in his helm as he thought of how to accomplish such a goal.

"Bring in," Praxis corrected, his emotionless grey optics looking down at the captain. "Extremis' orders were clear in the fact that he wanted the Xel'Tor brought to him alive. You would do well to remember his instructions, Captain."

"Offline, online, doesn't matter as long as there's enough of him left to unlock the systems of the Archive," Jhaxius said with a shrug, using the nickname many followers of Extremis used to refer to the largest Ancient complex on the planet of Extremis' headquarters.

Praxis stared down at the smaller mech for several long micro-klicks, then he looked away from the captain and focused on the information being displayed on the view port. "How, then, do you plan on getting the Xel'Tor to leave the Autobots' base?"

Jhaxius went silent for a moment, and considered what it would take to get the Xel'Tor to leave the Autobots' base. Several ideas went through his helm, and were immediately discarded, before he came to one that stuck. "Axel," he said, turning his gaze to the green mech. "Is it possible to make the Inescapable Shadow appear to be Ancient technology on the sensors of the Autobots and only the Autobots?"

The Intelligence officer shook his helm almost instantly. "No, it isn't, sir. The Autobots and Decepticons use very similar technology, the only real differences between them is the methods in which they use their technology, and what frequencies they have their communications set," he said, then got a thoughtful look on his faceplate and paused for a brief moment. "But, it would be possible to use an Autobot frequency to send them a message and a set of coordinates, while keeping the ship cloaked to prevent the Decepticons from investigating as well. It wouldn't be as good as just broadcasting our energy signal to the Autobots, since coordinates aren't as precise as a signal, but it would get the Autobots' attention without alerting the Decepticons."

"Not ideal, but it will work," Jhaxius said, then looked at Highspeed. "Activate our visual cloak, and begin our approach to the human world."

Highspeed acknowledged his captain's order by moving his servos over his station in a rehearsed motion, one that activated the Inescapable Shadow's engines. He continued moving his servos over his station, controlling the movement of the ship with simple motions from his servos.

As the Inescapable Shadow moved toward the human home world, Jhaxius sat back in his chair, already going over the details of his plan to get the Xel'Tor come to them.

* * *

><p><strong>May 26, 2013 5:24 A.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

I sat on my berth, staring blankly at the wall while I thought about the events that occurred just a few breems ago.

Despite the revelation that I needed to tell Arcee how I felt, and about my Imprint, I had, quite simply, chickened out. We had been sharing a moment, just clinging to each other. It had been the perfect time for me to tell her how I felt, but I couldn't get my mouth to work at the time. I had just hugged her back until she had to leave and take care of June and Jack, who had stayed at the base instead of their house. And after she made sure they were comfortable, she retreated to her quarters to recharge.

I had missed a golden opportunity to tell her, there was no doubt in my CPU. But, not telling her right away also gave me more time to think about how to tell her. Should I just go right up to her and pour out my spark? Or should I pull her aside and explain everything in a more professional manner, like how I found out what Imprinting was, and how it was responsible for the Pulling? Or, should I not tell her about everything at once, and tell her in bits and pieces? It might be better to do that, since telling her everything I learned a few breems ago would probably leave her incredible confused and more than a little shocked.

I sighed and stood up from my berth, my internal clock reading that it was already later than I usually onlined. Questions like that, as well as many others, had kept me online all night, only without making me tired. Guess finding out you subconsciously asked your best friend to be your sparkmate gives you incredible amounts of energy. That or I was excited that it was my birthday again, though I sincerely doubted that was the reason I couldn't recharge.

I walked over to my desk and picked up a cube, then put it under the energon dispenser and started to fill it. As soon as the cube was filled, I picked it up and downed the low-grade energon in a single gulp, then set it down and walked to my door. I normally would have taken the time to enjoy my energon, but I had too much on my CPU to savor its taste.

Almost without breaking stride, I unlocked and opened my door, and then walked toward the ops center, not needing to visit the washracks like I usually did since I had visited them after Arcee retired to her quarters.

I reached the ops center a few micro-klicks after I left my quarters, and quickly took note of Prowl at the main computer, whose turn it had been to take the night shift for the space bridge, and the presence of Lennox, MacTavish, and Epps, who were near the Xbox area, where June was currently sleeping on the couch, while Jack slept on a gel bed Ratchet had created after I was told what the Quriomus Protocol was.

Lennox looked at me when I entered the ops center. "And so the 'Bane of MECH' has arrived," he said, voice just loud enough for his voice to be heard across the room. At least, just loud enough for a human to hear him. I would have been able to hear him if he had been whispering. "Seems like I owe you a drink, if you Autobots drink. You finally put MECH down."

"Only doing what needed to be done, Colonel," I said as I stepped over to the three Shadow Company soldiers. Doing what needed to be done apart from blowing out the ears of Jack and June, killing MECH with brutal methods, and practically executing Airachnid, that is. I looked at June and Jack. "How are they doing?"

"Kid's tough, he should be fine in a few days. June is going to take more time, though. Probably will need to spend a lot of time with all of you, get used to walking among titans that _aren't_ trying to kill her, like Airachnid was," Epps answered in Lennox's place. He shivered slightly. "Even her dead body gives me the creeps."

"She was far worse when she was among the living, Sergeant Epps " I said. "Smart, sadistic, and creative, not a good mix."

"Sounds like a female version of Clancy," MacTavish observed as he walked a bit closer to the railing. "Except she was twenty-five feet tall, made out of metal, had access to energy weapons, and had... Claws."

I frowned slightly at MacTavish's tone. "You found the team assigned to keep the Darbys' safe," I said matter-of-factly.

Lennox nodded grimly. "We did."

"And Airachnid was responsible for their deaths," I said, again matter-of-factly. I had a feeling I knew where this was going.

"As far as we can tell, yes. But we can't be sure... There's not a lot left," Shadow Company's commanding officer said, tone stoic despite the the fact he was talking about the deaths of his fellow soldiers. He was likely fighting against his own feelings on the matter.

"That sounds like her work." I bowed my helm slightly. "I did not know them, but you all have my sympathies. Losing brothers in arms is always a tragedy."

"That it is," MacTavish said. "Miller and Patterson were good men, I hope you threw a few extra punches at Airachnid for 'em."

He had no idea. "I did not need to hit her very much to offline her, Captain MacTavish. But, I did make each count," I said, not going into detail about hitting her in the tank hard enough to make her cough up energon, kicking her through two concrete walls, and snapping one of her back pedes before shooting her between the optics. "And if it helps, I did tackle her at supersonic speeds."

That got a small chuckle at of Soap, as well as Lennox and Epps. "Can't deny that it feels a little satisfying to hear you blindsided her," Lennox said. "Though the mess you left us to clean up does make it less enjoyable that it would normally be."

"Sorry about that. In my defense, though, it wasn't possible to _not_ make a mess," I said, telling the honest truth. I hadn't been in control of myself, after all. "How is the cleanup progressing?"

"Very slowly, even slower than our repair of your front door," Epps answered, glancing briefly in the direction of the entrance tunnel, where a number of S.T.F engineers were working to repair the door I destroyed when my Protocol was active. "You pretty much wrecked the place, so there's debris everywhere. And we've been finding wreckage from the helicopters Clancy stole all the way out to the limits of Jasper. But the General has more than a hundred engineers on site. They'll have the place back to looking like the trash heap it is by the end of the day."

"The engineers might not be on the front-lines like we are, but they're the best at what they do," Soap said. "And they're also more trustworthy than intel officers." I heard him whisper, likely meaning the words only for his ears, though it seemed like Lennox heard him as well, since he glanced at MacTavish briefly.

I looked at the Scotsman curiously. "What do you mean, Captain?"

Lennox glanced at Soap again, confirming that he had heard what the Scotsman said as well, then looked up at me. "He means that we found out who the mole in S.T.F was. He was an intel officer by the name of 'Ned Booth.' He was in charge of making sure the prototypes of many of our weapon systems were properly destroyed, as well as part of a group that would oversee the operations of our satellites," he explained, distastefully. "However, instead of destroying some of our prototypes, he would have them dismantled and sent to off-base facilities, claiming they were to be used as spare parts for later models. He would then make contact with Clancy by leaving coded comments on a sports website, and tell him where the prototypes were located so MECH could reassemble them and use them for their own purposes. And when Clancy needed to move from one hide to the next, he would send a coded message to Booth and ask to turn the eyes of S.T.F satellites away from the United States."

"Did you catch him after I fought MECH and Airachnid?" I asked. That was a lot of information in a very short period of time, especially when they had been hunting their mole for the last five jours and come up with nothing.

"No. The only reason we even know he was the mole is because he suddenly vanished from our HQ not five minutes after Jetfire contacted General Shepherd," MacTavish replied. "Chap left in such a hurry that he left his laptop behind, which contained a lot of information that revealed he was helping MECH the entire time."

"Doesn't sound like he was very good in the intelligence world. If you are a double-agent, you don't leave evidence that implicates you," I observed. It would be better to frame someone you were working with, or just burn all evidence that might be traced back to you and disappear as fast as possible. Leaving behind implicating evidence was very sloppy, in my opinion.

"That's the problem, he was one of the best intel officers we had," Epps said. "That was why he had such extensive responsibilities at HQ. We think he left the laptop on purpose, because he left a message on the screen."

I narrowed my optics slightly. "What was the message?"

The three Shadow Company soldiers shared a brief look, then Lennox looked up at me. "'The end is just the beginning.'"

That _definitely_ didn't sound foreboding. "Sounds like you and your soldiers aren't quite done hunting, Colonel."

"No, Shadow Company's part is done," Lennox said. "We were after a rogue military unit, not a single man. Hunting Booth is the Spooks' mission, not ours."

I wasn't surprised by hearing his response. It would make sense to send a small group, or just one man, after someone trained in intelligence gathering. An elite Special Forces unit tends to stick out. "What will Shadow Company do, then, now that MECH is gone?"

"Back to what we were doing when we first met you all. Black Ops. It's what we do," Lennox replied. "But on many occasions, those ops cross with your own, like back in Afghanistan."

I opened my mouth to continue my conversation with the three Shadow Company soldiers, but the words died on my lips when I saw Arcee walk into the ops center, with her armor shining more than usual, likely having just gotten out of the femmes' washracks.

She gave me a wave in greeting, which I returned. She then looked at Jack and June, and after seeing that they were sleeping, gave Lennox and the others a nod to show she wasn't ignoring them, then walked over to Prowl and started a quiet conversation with him, probably about possible Decepticon activity, or perhaps just asking for an update on anything she might have missed while recharging.

I dropped any effort into continuing my conversation with Lennox, Soap, and Epps, and just focused on Arcee. I had yet to figure out how to tell her how I felt, or _when_ to tell her. Telling her right at this moment was an option, but a conversation like the one we needed to have wasn't one you had in front of others. I could drag her off to the side or to another part of the base, but there weren't a lot of rooms that would be appropriate for having a private conversation besides our quarters, although I don't think those would be a good place to talk, either. I could just walk right up to her and tell her, but that would be rather... Blunt. It would also make the conversation more complicated than it needed to be.

"Wow... You are _gone,_" Lennox whispered to me, breaking me from my thoughts while Soap and Epps chuckled quietly at their commanding officer's statement.

I looked at Shadow Company's leader. "What are you talking about?"

Lennox gave me a flat look. "If you stare at Arcee any longer, you'll become a statue."

"Guess I spaced out, then... There's a lot things I've been thinking about recently," I said, voice just as quiet as Lennox's.

"Would one of them be how you're going to tell her?" Lennox asked, a serious look in his eyes despite the smile on his face.

I blinked at the man. How'd he know that? "Yes," I admitted.

Lennox nodded, then leaned a bit more onto the railing. "Here's my advice to you, Shadowstreaker. Don't plan out what you're going to say beforehand, because then it doesn't sound genuine. You want her to listen when you tell her?" He tapped his chest, right above his heart, which would be just slightly to the left of his spark if he was a Cybertronian. "Then speak from here, don't plan it out."

I stared at Lennox for a moment, considering his words. Maybe he was right, perhaps I was thinking about it too much, trying to come up with the words I would use and not listening to what my spark was saying. And right now, my spark was saying to get it over with before I backed out again.

With my CPU made up, I turned away from the three Shadow Company soldiers and walked towards the femme I had Imprinted on, each step building both my anxiety and my confidence. This was it, after almost an orbital-cycle, I was going to come clean with Arcee. I just hoped I wasn't about to ruin my friendship with her.

Arcee noticed my approach, and looked away from Prowl and at me, a curious look gracing his faceplate. She knew there was something different about the way I was walking toward her.

I reached Arcee, then folded my servos behind my backplates. "Arcee," I greeted formally.

"Shadowstreaker," she greeted back just as formally, but with a look in her optics that was asking why I was greeting her officially, instead of how we usually greeted each other.

My mouth suddenly refused to work, and I just stood there for a moment, starting an awkward silence that even Prowl noticed, causing him to glance over his shoulder-joint at Arcee and I, before looking back at the main screen.

I... I had no idea how I was supposed to start this, how to word anything. Should I start this with small talk? Was that a strange way to lead up to a confession? Would talking about something more serious be appropriate? Like how she was dealing with getting temporarily captured by Airachnid and MECH? Or would that just make my confession a thousand times harder? Would talking about how Ratchet and Moonracer were best friends and they got together be something to talk about? Or would talking about other bots getting together just make this more awkward?

Maybe... Maybe this was a bad idea. I should leave, come find her again after I've come up with a few solid ways to tell her how I felt, and explain everything in a way that would be as comfortable as possible, and not awkwardly. There had to be a way I hadn't thought of yet that could wor-

No.

No, I am not backing down again. I am going to tell her, right here, right now. I can think about how I could have done this differently later. Right now, I need to follow Lennox's advice, and speak from the spark. Sometimes life was blunt.

I quietly took a breath in, and let it out, bracing myself for the worst. Her rejecting not only my feelings, but our friendship. "Arcee... I lo-"

A rapid beeping suddenly sounded from the workstation, cutting my confession off before I could start it.

Internally sighing at the interruption, I looked at the main screen at the same moment Prowl started to typing a command into the workstation.

"We are receiving a message," the stoic mech said, immediately gaining the full attention of Arcee and I, as well as that of the three Shadow Company soldiers a little to our left.

"From who?" Arcee asked suspiciously, voicing my exact thought. No one except Autobots knew how to contact base, and since Jetfire and Springer were the only ones out on patrol, and they could just open a communications channel with base, that meant we weren't being contacted by someone on base. And if we didn't know who was hailing us, then that immediately raised a red flag in my helm.

"Unknown," Prowl replied. "It is not a video or audio communication, it is simple text." He typed another command into the workstation, which caused the main screen to start displaying a short message in a language I couldn't read. But, going by what I had seen in the Pocket Universe, the word, or words, were written in the language of the Primes.

Soap looked at the main screen in confusion. "Is that Gujarati?" He asked, trying to compare the language of the Primes with a human one.

"No, Captain MacTavish. That is the language of the Primes, an ancient language to even the oldest of our race," Prowl said. "And only a Prime can read it." He looked at me. "Contact Optimus, Shadowstreaker."

I nodded and opened a comm-link with Optimus, who was most certainly online by now. _"Optimus, we need you in the ops center."_

"I am already here, Shadowstreaker," Optimus said, voice coming from off to my far left.

Seeing that the comm-link was now pointless, I closed it and looked at Optimus, who had just stepped out of the hallway and was walking toward us. "Someone sent us a message in the language of the Primes, Optimus," I said. "Don't know who sent it, and we obviously don't know what it says."

The Prime continued walking toward us, the Star Saber clanging quietly against his backplates, and came to a stop behind me. He looked at the screen for a few micro-klicks, then said, "The first symbols create a set of coordinates, which lead to a remote area in the state of Maine, but the other symbols form into a message. It reads, 'A gift to you, my son. From, S.'" Optimus looked at me. "It appears your carrier has sent you message, Shadowstreaker, along with something else that she has left unclear."

I gave the Prime a puzzled look. "But that makes no sense. Last time I spoke with Solus and the others, they said they couldn't even answer any major questions. Why would she suddenly send us a message and leave something for me?" I asked, meaning my question as rhetoric. The Primes couldn't even tell me who spoke to me on the station and while I was in stasis lock, why did they send something to this reality for me to find? It made no sense.

Lennox looked at me. "What are you talking about?" He asked, curiosity written on his face, along with the other two men on either side of him.

"Shadowstreaker is the son of two members of the Thirteen, the first members of our race," Arcee answered. "And on occasion, they reach out and speak to him."

Lennox's look went from curiosity, to confusion. "Are you saying that the first members of your race, which you have on multiple occasions have said it to be an uncountable number of years old, are still alive and talk to Shdaowstreaker? Wouldn't that make them, and Shadowstreaker since he's the son of two of them, ancient beyond count?"

"Yes and no, Colonel." I said. "Yes, some of the first members of our race still live, and they do on occasion speak to me. And no, I am not ancient beyond count like they are. In fact, out of all Autobots on Earth, I am the youngest physically."

The Colonel blinked at me, surprise momentarily replacing his confusion. "I would have thought you were one of the older ones, considering how you carry yourself. Though, now I wonder how it works that you are the son of two of the original members of your race, yet you're the youngest out of all Autobots on Earth."

"It's... Complicated, to say the least," I said. "And that is not accounting for how the Primes speak to me."

"How do they speak to you?" Epps asked.

I gave the Master Sergeant a flat look. "While I am recharging, they pull my conscious into the Pocket Universe which they currently reside in, and send me back once our conversation is finished."

MacTavish stared at me incredulously. "So, what you're saying is that your parents can use space magic, which allows them to pull your consciousness into another reality," he said, voice matching the look on his face. "Do you Bots also have a crystal skull that can communicate telepathically?"

Even though Soap's question wasn't serious, and he was just referring to something from Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, it drew similarities with the Delphic, and also the partial link that I shared with it, which caused Prowl's processor to whirl audibly.

"Logic..." The stoic mech whispered, unable to say anything else because he was so close to glitching. He had glitched twice when he found out I shared a connection with the Delphic, and even the mention of my link caused his processor to race at unsafe speeds.

"I think it is best if we drop that topic now. Prowl's processor is quite sensitive," I said to the three Shadow Company soldiers.

Soap's face went completely blank, with Lennox and Epps' faces doing the same. "I had only been _joking_..." The Scotsman said under his breath, but thankfully followed my suggestion and didn't say anything else on the topic, which saved Prowl from glitching.

"Did the Primes say anything about not ever helping you?" Arcee asked me, getting the conversation back on topic.

I went to say that they hadn't, but I paused as I realized something. The Primes said they hadn't been allowed to help me during the trip I took to the station with Springer and Jetfire, but they never said they weren't allowed to ever help in the future. "No. They said they couldn't help me on the station, they never said anything about helping later on."

"Then it is possible that this message is from your carrier, and it is possible she sent something for you," Arcee said.

"Yes, it is. But I don't understand why they didn't mention the fact they were going to send help to us when I spoke with them last," I said.

"The Primes may not have intended to send help at the time of your last visit, Shadowstreaker, but it is possible that circumstances have changed, and they have chosen to send help now," Optimus reasoned. "But, the only way we will know for sure is if we investigate the coordinates contained in the message." He looked at Prowl. "Prowl, power up the space bridge and enter these coordinates, 'Latitude 46.685124, Longitude -69.039910.'"

Prowl complied without showing he acknowledgement of the Primes instructions. And when he was done typing commands, he powered up the space bridge, instantly opening a larger, more intense green portal than what I was used to seeing to the coordinates Optimus told him to enter.

"Arcee, Shadowstreaker, you're with me. Prowl, remain on ground bridge duty until Ratchet or Moonracer online for the cycle." Optimus said, then started to walk toward the space bridge, Arcee immediately falling in step behind him.

"Wait, I'm going?" I asked in confusion. I hadn't been officially cleared for active duty by Ratchet or Moonracer yet, despite what I did last night.

Optimus paused in his march to the green portal and looked back at me. "Yes. Your carrier addressed the message to you, it would best if you joined us. And after the events of last night, I believe your time for recovery has ended. Consider yourself cleared for front-line operations, by order of the Prime." A ghost of a smile appeared on his faceplate, then he turned and continued walking to the space bridge.

Not needing Optimus to repeat his earlier order, I quickly moved forward and walked up ro Arcee, who had yet to start following Optimus again and was waiting for me to join her.

"So, what were you trying to say earlier, before you were interrupted by the message arriving?" Arcee asked once I joined her and we followed Optimus again, who had already stepped through the green portal.

I internally froze up, but I quickly forced myself to relax. I wasn't going to be keeping my feelings a secret anymore. But, the middle of a mission was hardly the place to admit to your best friend that you loved them, and had subconsciously asked them to be your sparkmate. "I'll tell you after we get back," I said, feeling relieved that I had chosen to make a commitment to telling her, instead of trying back out and say that my attempt to confess had been nothing, and told her to forget about it.

Arcee raised an optic ridge and looked up at me. "Promise?" She asked, a mischievous look in her optics that wasn't there a moment ago. She probably thought I had blackmail material on the twins.

I chuckled lightly. "Promise."

Moments after Arcee and I finished our brief exchange, we both stepped through the space bridge.

* * *

><p><strong>May 26, 2013 8:38 A.M<strong>

**Somewhere in Northern Maine**

As soon as Arcee and I exited the space bridge, I had to move to the right to avoid an Eastern White Pine Tree, then I had to move to avoid another immediately after that. I already knew these trees were going to be an issue for me.

"Well, this is annoying," I said, folding my wings so I could fit myself through a gap between two Pines, while the ground bridge closed behind Arcee and I. Guess there was a downside to having an area that wasn't populated extensively.

Arcee laughed lightly at the way I struggled through the trees. "I have no idea what you're talking about, I'm not having an issue," she said, then walked passed me without needing to turn or twist her frame, as if to show her point. The blue and pink femme gave me a smug smile. "See?"

I narrowed my optics at Arcee, and she laughed again. "The only reason you're not having an issue is because you're small." As well as agile and beautiful, I wanted to add, but I held those comments in. "I am not. I'm having the same problem as Optimus." I looked ahead, where Optimus was slowly moving toward what appeared to be a clearing in the trees further ahead, but was having even more problems than I was since he was both taller and broader than I was.

Arcee looked at Optimus, back at me. "I guess this proves that being small has its advantages."

"Yeah, yeah," I said as I continued to slip between the trees, breaking a number of branches each time I made contact with one. "Can we focus on getting to the clearing, please?"

"You just don't want to admit you're having trouble," Arcee stated, azure optics shining with amusement.

"No, actually. I freely admit I am having problems getting through these trees. I just want you to stop making fun of me," I said, putting a small amount of offence into my tone for affect.

Arcee chuckled and continued on ahead. "That's _never_ going to happen, Shadow', teasing you is just too much fun."

"Great," I said, tone sarcastic. "Now my partner sees me nothing more than a source of amusement, and a verbal punching bag."

"Good to see you learning your place in this partnership," the femme I loved said, turning to look at me over her shoulder-joint and flashing me a quick grin, then disappeared from view as she moved passed Optimus and continued without on toward the clearing.

After Arcee went on without us, Optimus looked back and opened a comm-link with me. _"Shadowstreaker, please refrain from excessive flirting during the mission,"_ he said, tone completely serious.

I looked at him in puzzlement. _"That wasn't flirting, that's how we usually act."_

_"No, you were flirting, Shadowstreaker. I could tell. Please tone it down for the sake of the mission,"_ the Prime replied, then closed the link and continued moving through the trees, moving to where the clearing was.

I stood there for a moment, surprised by Optimus' words. Had I really just been flirting with Arcee without meaning to? And if I had, did that mean I unintentionally flirted with her every time she and I bantered back and forth? And Arcee just mistook it as friendly banter like I intended it to be in the first place?

I shook my helm and followed Optimus. Couldn't think about that right now, perhaps after the mission so I could add it to the things I was going to tell Arcee, but not during the mission.

I moved through the trees, having a slightly easier time maneuvering between them since Optimus' larger chassis cleared the way somewhat. And about half a klick after the Prime and I had our brief exchange, we reached the clearing, where Arcee was already waiting for us.

"Took you two long enough," Arcee said playfully when Optimus and I stepped into the clearing, which, I realized, was located on the edge of a steep hill that led into a large, secluded valley that began roughly six-hundred feet below us, and continued on for at least four miles, from what I could see.

"Didn't have an option to move any faster," I said, taking Optimus' statement seriously and keeping my tone professional.

Arcee narrowed her optics slightly when I didn't banter with her, but she let it go. "Is there something we're supposed to be looking for? Only thing I see are trees."

"If the Primes sent something to this location, then they would have hidden it from sight, in order for any humans who explored this area to remain unaware of its presence. But, they also would have left a marker for us to find," the Prime replied, optics scanning the valley. "Search for anything which appears to be out of place among this forest."

Arcee and I acknowledged Optimus' order by looking at opposite sides of the canyon, while Optimus looked directly ahead, each of us searching for something, anything, that didn't look quite right.

For several micro-klicks, we searched in silence, our gears the only thing making any sound.

I froze at that thought, instantly halting my search for anything out of place. Why were we the only things making any sound? We were in Maine, nearly ninety percent of the entire state was covered by forest. So why weren't there any birds chirping? Or Wolves howling? Or any sounds from _any_ animals at all, not even a Cricket?

And now that I realized that there were no animal sounds around us, I noticed that it felt like I was being watched, studied silently.

Arcee seemed to notice my shift my change in demeanor, and put her own observations on hold and looked at me. "Everything alright, Shadow'?" She asked.

I didn't answer right away, and started looking at the valley and our immediate surroundings more closely. Something was seriously off here. "Have you noticed how the animals are totally quiet?" I asked in turn, continuing to look around as suspiciously. "And don't you feel like we're being watched? This doesn't feel right."

The blue and pink femme looked at me for another moment, before she glanced around our surroundings like I continued to do, and then deployed her Photon Burst Rifles. "You're right, someone's watching us."

"I, too, feel as if we are being watched," Optimus said, snapping his battlemask into place and reaching over his shoulder-joint and pulling the Star Saber off his backplates, the duel-pronged great sword emitting a blue aura as soon as he touched its handle. "Be on alert, Autobots, I fear we have stepped into a trap."

I responded to Optimus' statement by deploying my Path Blaster and Plasma Chaingun and aiming them ahead of me. There was definitely something wrong, but we weren't going to be taken by surprise.

* * *

><p>More than two kilometers above the surface of the planet, inside the cloaked Inescapable Shadow, the entire bridge crew focused on the view port, where ten separate windows were being displayed, each one a live feed from the optics of the combat drones Jhaxius had deployed to the surface of the human world.<p>

Jhaxius drummed his digits against the arm of his chair. So far, there had been no response to the message they sent to the Autobots, and that was making him impatient. He was, admittedly, not a patient mech by nature. When he set a plan into motion, he expected it to go as he wanted it to. Quickly, and without incident. It was a flaw in his character, the result of planning too many short-term things, and he knew it, but he couldn't get rid of it. It was embedded into the way he planned, and it wasn't going anywhere.

"Status," the ordered, not directing his words to anyone in particular.

"Drones in position and hidden, Captain," Serus reported professionally, used to the impatient behavior of her captain. "Just waiting for the Xel'Tor to arrive."

Jhaxus didn't acknowledge Serus' report and looked at Highspeed expectedly.

The Inescapable Shadow's navigator moved his servos over his workstation, mostly to just make himself look busy. He had already set the ship to stay at this altitude, it wasn't going anywhere. "We are cloaked and more than twenty kilometers from the nearest detectable human. No one is going to see us unless we want them to."

The captain shifted his gaze to Axel.

The green Intelligence officer shifted in his seat and leaned toward Altera, whose damage control station was next to his. "What am I supposed to do?" He whispered.

"Just tell him something he already knows. This is just something he does when a plan doesn't immediately come to fruition, which is always," the violet femme whispered back.

Axel leaned away from Altera and looked at Jhaxius again. "Uh, we're jamming all communications frequencies within a ten kilometer radius, and there's been no response to the message we sent, Captain Jhaxius."

After Axel gave his report, Jhaxius went back to drumming his digits against the arm of his chair, having gotten reports from all relevant sources besides damage control, and he didn't bother asking for a report from them since they weren't in combat at the moment.

Highspeed's holographic workstation suddenly beeped rapidly. "Energy build up directly below us," he reported, now more alert than before. "Signature matches that of a space bridge. Guess the Autobots have a few toys in their base, wherever it is."

Jhaxius allowed one corner of his mouth to twitch upward in a smile. They had taken the bait. "Do we have a visual on the Autobots?" He asked, directing the question at Serus since the view port wasn't showing feeds from all the drones he sent to the surface.

"Negative," Serus answered, having already started to cycle through feeds of the drones that weren't being showed to the others on the bridge. "Their space bridge opened in a thicker part of the forest, we'll have to wait for visual contact."

Jhaxius sighed quietly at the lack of confirmation his plan for luring the Xel-Tor worked, and looked at the main screen expectantly, knowing at least one of the drones was bound to get a visual on the Autobots at some point.

Almost a klick after the Inescapable Shadow's sensors detected the space bridge signature, a blue and pink femme appeared in two of the live feeds, having stepped out into a clearing a pair of drones had been looking at.

"Run her through the Autobot database," Jhaxius said to Axel.

Axel immediate did as he was told, and started to run a program on his workstation, which was synced to the view port, that caused the two drones to focus on the blue and pink femme's faceplate and run it through the Autobot database for a match.

Within three micro-klicks, the program found a match, and it opened another window displaying the recruit picture of the femme in the life feed. The femme in the picture appeared to be much happier, more excited, than the femme in the feed, but there was no way it wasn't the same bot.

"Name: Arcee. She's a recon scout, really good one, too. Holds the rank of field commander, top of her class in virtually everything except physical strength, and even then she's up in the top five," Axel reported. "Since joining up with the Autobots, she has amassed a list of accommodations longer than the Sonic Canyons. The only metal she hasn't earned is the Posthumous Star of Heroism. She's also apparently somewhat of a legend among the newer Autobots."

"And she's _quite_ smokin'..." Highspeed whispered to himself, looking at the feed of Arcee with slightly widened optics.

Jhaxius gave his navigator a glare. "Can it," he half-growled, causing Highspeed to look away from the view port and focus on his workstation. He looked at Serus. "Do we have optics on any other Autobots?"

The red femme shook her helm. "Negative, sir. We-" She cut herself off when she saw the trees behind Arcee started to sway before returning to their original position, as if something large was walking through the forest. "Scratch that. We have at least one newcomer coming out of the trees now."

Jhaxius looked back at the main screen just in time to see the widely-known Autobot leader, Optimus Prime, step out through the trees, with the Star Saber slung across his backplates. Looked like the Autobots had managed to recover some equipment from Station A4-D718.

Along with Optimus came a heavily armored black mech that was only marginally smaller than the Prime. Both sides of his helm were etched with silver mark, one that looked similar to the one Jhaxius had seen in the images taken by Station A4-D718.

"Compare the unknown mech with images of the Xel'Tor," Jhaxius ordered, focusing his attention entirely on the black mech, and also taking a mental note of how Arcee's faceplate seemed to brighten up when he appeared. Interesting.

Axel started to run the same program he ran earlier, this time comparing the faceplate of the unknown to the still images that the cameras of Station A4-D718 took of the Xel'Tor.

The program took even less time to confirm the unknown as the Xel'Tor than it took to find a match of Arcee's faceplate in the Autobot database. Interestingly, the program didn't display another picture of the Xel'Tor like it had when it identified Arcee.

Jhaxius looked at Axel, who was moving his servos over his workstation and looking at his display in confusion. "Is there a problem with your program, Axel?" He asked, tone slightly clipped.

Axel was too focused on his workstation to flinch at Jhaxius' tone, like he had almost three breems ago. "No... It's working perfectly," he said, looking even more confused than before. "He just... Doesn't exist."

Praxis' emotionless grey optics bored into the green Intelligence officer from where he stood near the door of the bridge, partially hidden in the shadows. "Explain," he said, neither a question nor a statement.

Axel may not have flinched when Jhaxius spoke, but the green mech reacted in the exact same manner he had the last time Praxius spoke to him, jumping in his chair. "He, uh, just doesn't exist," he answered once he'd calmed himself, stuttering slightly as he repeated what he told his captain. "There's no record of him the Autobot, Decepticon, or the old civilian databases. He... He's a ghost."

"Ghost or not, he's our target," Jhaxius said, then looked at Serus. "Have the drones line up shots on each of them, then take them all down quick and painless-"

"Belay that order," Praxis interrupted, stepping out of the shadows and next to Jhaxius' chair.

The bridge went totally quiet. Praxius hadn't given an order throughout his time on the Inescapable Shadow, despite his right to do so as Extremis' SIC. Suddenly contradicting Jhaxius' orders, on his own ship, caused the entire bridge crew to pause.

Jhaxius glared at Extremis' SIC, but was internally struggling not to look away from Praxis' grey optics. "Why?" He hissed with barely controlled anger, absolutely loathing to be contradicted.

"Because Extremis sent me to make sure you brought the Xel'Tor him alive, and you are planning to offline him, despite Extremis' orders," Praxis stated emotionlessly.

Jhaxius' optic twitched. He hated strict guidelines when given a mission, all they did were get in the way of success. "It doesn't matter if he's online or not, all he has to do is-"

"Your opinion, is irrelevant," Praxis interrupted again. "Extremis gave specific instructions to bring the Xel'Tor back alive. You chose to ignore my earlier advice, Captain, do not ignore my warning."

Jhaxius continued glaring at Praxis, but was about to break optic contact when Serus suddenly broke the silence the rest of the bridge had fallen into, "Captain, I think the Xel'Tor has made us."

The captain of the Inescapable Shadow looked at the main screen. The Xel'Tor was looking around suspiciously, at times even looking directly at a drone without knowing it. He knew something wasn't right, he knew he was being watched.

Arcee looked at the Xel'Tor and said something none of the drones picked up, to which the Xel'Tor replied with something else the drones didn't hear. In response to what the Xel'Tor said, Arcee scanned her surroundings like he was, then deployed a pair of Photon Burst Rifles from her servos, a popular weapon among marksmen back during the war. She spoke after deploying her weapons, but the drones, again, did not catch her words.

After Arcee deployed her weapons, Optimus Prime snapped a battlemask over his faceplate and pulled the Star Saber off his backplates, while the Xel'Tor himself deployed weapons of his own and continued examining their surroundings.

They had been made.

"Orders, sir?" Serus asked as the three Autobots readied themselves for battle.

Jhaxius was silent for a long moment, internally brooding at how the Xel'Tor had seen through his trap. He hated when a plan went wrong. "Give the drones permission to fire." He glanced at Praxis, who was still staring at him. "Have them only fire stun rounds when engaging the Xel'Tor," the captain added. "The others, however, are useless to us."

"Understood, sir," Serus acknowledged, then moved her servos over her workstation to carry out the orders of her captain.

* * *

><p>While I was scanning our surroundings, I noticed trio of orange flashes appear in different parts of the valley in front of us, like the glint of sniper scopes. After appearing, the lights quickly started to gain in intensity, becoming more and more noticeable. Although, one light seemed to be brighter than the others, and on closer examination, I find that it was pointing directly at me, while the other two seemed to focus on points off to my left.<p>

I looked to where the other lights were focused, and widened my optics at the sight of targeting lasers on the chestplates of Optimus and Arcee, and one almost certainly on my own chestplates.

"Down!" I cried out, just before I tackled Optimus in the side, which would bring all three of us down to the grond since Arcee was on the opposite side of the Prime.

What happened next, I instantly knew, would repeat again and again in my helm.

Time slowed to an agonizing crawl as soon as I tackled Optimus. The orange lights reached their peak brightness at the same moment, and sent an energy beam of some type toward each of us.

The first beam hit me. It had been aimed at my chestplates, but since I was in the middle of tackling Optimus, the beam only grazed my pede. But, it numbed the area it touched, along everything else within a small radius, on contact. A stunner.

The second beam his Optimus. It had, like the one that hit me, been aimed at his chestplates, but my tackle caused the beam to miss its intended target, and instead hit Optimus' right servo. It sliced through his armor like butter, almost severing his servo entirely, while at the same time making it completely useless.

The third, and final beam hit Arcee. It had been aiming at the same area as the beams that hit Optimus and I, but since my tackle had only just started to make Optimus fall, and Arcee was on the other side of the Prime, she had barely moved by the time the beam struck her... And it tore through her chestplates, missing her spark by mere inches, and causing her to go completely limp and fall to the ground before Optimus' larger frame would have knocked her down.

All sound faded away, and all I could do as Optimus and I continued falling to the ground was look at Arcee's unmoving chassis, and the giant tear in her chestplates, just to the right of her spark. It had torn her armor apart, leaving only jagged pieces around the wound. And even though I couldn't see the her backplates, I knew the beam had gone clean through her, and had definitely left an identical hole on the other side.

As soon as Optimus and I hit the ground, I frantically crawled over to Arcee, who was already in a pool of her own energon. "No, no, no, no, no," I said in a panicked tone, heedless of the fact that whoever had just shot us was still shooting.

I looked at Arcee's faceplate, silently praying for a sign she was still online. She was, but her optics were very, _very_ dim, and were flickered off more often than they were online. "Hang on, Arcee, hang on, do you hear me? Do you hear me?!" I asked frantically, then finally took note of the bullets flying our direction when one flew by my helm.

I growled and fired a long burst from my Plasma Chaingun over the edge of the hill, hearing a number of pings that told me I had at least grazed one or two of our attackers. Good, that would show the bastards who did this to my spark, my everything.

At the realization that I had a similar thought a few breems ago, I closed my optics and clamped down on my anger, trapping it and keeping it from igniting, and activating my Quriomus Protocol. The femme I loved was offlining in front of me, this was not the time for a murderous rampage, nor would there be ever be the time for such a thing if I had any say in the matter. I didn't want to lose control of myself again, especially at such a critical time like right now.

I went back to Arcee and started applying first aid as best as I could without the proper medical equipment or supplies, completely blocking out the sight of her outer sparkcasing, one of the two most intimate areas of a Cybertronian's chassis. I needed to stabilize her, slow the leaking of her energon, or she would offline right here. The wound was too severe for stasis lock to help her.

Optimus crawled over to where I was giving Arcee first aid, his right servo dangling uselessly while it still clutched the Star Saber. "I count no less than eight unknowns, but I suspect there are more who have yet to give themselves away," he said, showing no signs that he was in pain, even though his injury was obviously making him suffer.

"Too many for us to take out with Arcee in thi- this condition," I said, voice cracking slightly as I tried to stay professional. "We need to get Ratchet and Moonracer here. Now."

"We are in agreement," the Prime said, then opened a universal communications channel. "_Optimus to all Autobots, medical evacuation and reinforcements are needed at my location immediately."_

Static was the only answer to Optimus' order.

The Prime looked at me. "Our communications are being jammed." He reached over with his good servo and pried the Star Saber from his useless one, then held it at the ready in his left. "If we are to contact base, we will need to offline our attackers first."

I looked up at him, then back down at Arcee, who was barely doing any better thanks to my first aid. "But... But Arcee isn't going to last that long," I said, back to being heedless of the bullets flying around us. "The chances she'll be online by the time we finish fighting them off is virtually zero."

Optimus gave me a sad, grim look. "I know, Shadowstreaker. But if we do not fight our attackers now, then Arcee will not have a chance at all."

I stared at Optimus, refusing to accept what he said. There had to be some way of contacting base. Running out of range of the jammer, sending a message through a human radio frequency, contacting base by using the internet, using smoke signals, _anything!_ I wasn't about to go out and leave Arcee to offline while Optimus and I fought the bots that lured us into a trap. I wouldn't, I could-

Wait... Why was I only hit with a stunner, while Optimus and Arcee were hit with lethal weapons? It made no sense to lure a group to a remote area, jam their comms, but only try to offline two out of the three that fell into the trap. You would take all three out, if that was your goal. So why shoot me with a stunner?

The answer hit me like a punch from Ironhide.

They hadn't been after a group per say, Optimus and Arcee were secondaries that came with their intended goal.

Me.

And if they were after me, that meant there was no reason for both Optimus and I to stay and fight off our attackers. I could stay behind, keep their attention while Optimus took Arcee and ran until he was beyond the range of the jammer blocking our communications.

"Take Arcee and run," I said in an unnaturally calm voice, accepting of what I was about to do.

The Prime looked at me in confusion. "Why? That would leave you alone against an unknown number of foes."

"That's the _point,_" I replied, randomly firing over the edge of the hill with my Plasma Chaingun. "Unlike with you two, they shot me with a stun round. And I can only think of one reason why they would do that. I'm their target, not you and Arcee."

"If that is true, then I am not going to leave you behind to fight our attackers on your own," Optimus said, using the Star Saber to deflect a shot aimed at his helm.

"Arcee can't afford to wait while we debate this, Optimus," I pointed out, causing the Prime to glance down at the gravely injured femme. "Take her, Prime. Take her and run until you can contact base and get her to Ratchet and Moonracer... _Please_..."

Optimus looked down at Arcee again, then looked up at me and nodded. "I will return with reinforcements, Shadowstreaker. Hold out until then." Without another word, he put the Star Saber on his backplates, used his good servo to pick Arcee up, then turned and ran in the direction our space bridge had been, plowing over any and all trees that stood in his way.

After Optimus left with Arcee, I let out a sigh of relief. She had a chance, she might live, despite the wound the bots after me had given her.

'Time to pay them back for that,' I thought with a growl I couldn't keep locked away.

I pulled my Ion Displacer off my backplates, turned, and took two steps forward, now standing on the edge of of the hill.

The fire from the bots that attacked us came to an abrupt halt when I stepped to the edge of the hill, and immediately I saw the orange lights from earlier return, numbering fifteen this time instead of three like before. They were all trying to stun me at the same time, and revealing their locations while doing it.

These bots weren't very smart.

I aimed my Ion Displacer at the rightmost light, then let myself slide down the hill, opening fire with my rotary cannon at the same time.

More than a hundred rounds a micro-klick flew through the air, slicing trees in half like paper and continuing along as if nothing had been in their way, and I heard a number of metallic pings over the roar of my Ion Displacer. I offlined the bot.

I didn't even stop firing, just shifted my aim as I crashed through groups of small Pines that were in my path. This time, I wasn't singling out any of my opponents, I was firing randomly, trying to throw the bots attacking me off balance and go on the defensive.

It didn't work.

Bullets came flying at me from all directions, numbing every part of my frame that they hit.

I added my Chaingun to the firepower I was sending out, though I struggled to keep my left servo steady since it had taken several of the bots' stun rounds. Those rounds were a pain, figuratively speaking.

I continued firing indiscriminately for several micro-klicks, before my slide came to an end at the bottom of the hill. I then swept my Ion Displacer from left to right, mowing down trees like grass, and exposing my attackers.

They weren't bots, they were in fact drones. They were all silver in color, and had a single red optic on a slime helm that was attached to a lean, lightly-armored frame, but despite their lightly-armored appearance, I hadn't offlined any of them, since the armor of the rightmost one had mostly held against the onslaught of my Ion Dispalcer. Each of them held an identical rifle that had some of its parts floating around the main body of their weapon, making them look almost exactly like some of the weapons I recovered from the station with Springer and Jetfire.

I put my observations aside and ran to my right as the drones started to return fire again, hitting me more than I liked, but less than what it would take to take me down. I focused my fire on the rightmost drone, since I had already weakened its armor with my Ion Displacer.

For more than ten micro-klicks, drone's armor easily withstood the massive amount of fire from my Ion Displacer, but then one of my bullets pierced its chestplates, and it started a chain reaction that caused its entire front to give way. It fell to the ground, finally offline.

Seeing how ineffective my Ion Displacer was, I returned it to my backplates and set my Plasma Chaingun to the beam mode Ironhide mentioned, then fired at the drone next to the one I just offlined.

A brilliant, angry red beam of pure energy accelerated through the air and impacted the drone's helm, melting its high-quality armor on contact and offlining it so quickly that I kept firing the beam at the air for half a micro-klick, having expected the drone to withstand my attack for a lot longer than it had.

Noting how my beam was exceedingly effective against the drones, I flicked my wrist and swept the beam across three more drones within the same micro-klick.

The first and second were cut in half by the beam, and the third had its helm sliced off like the first drone I used it on.

Five drones down, ten to go.

I went to aim the beam at a sixth drone, but I found myself sliding on the ground when one of the drones from off to my left suddenly tackled me. They were getting smarter.

As soon as we stopped sliding, I elbowed the drone off my backplates and deployed my Path Blaster as it fell off me. I then proceeded to shoot it in the optic, repeatedly, only managing to offline it on my fifth shot. These things had tough optics.

After offlining the sixth drone, I got back on my pedes and took cover by dropping into a stream that appeared to run the length of the valley, but not before taking no less than forty stun rounds to the backplates, making me lose all feeling to my wings.

Ignoring the numbness in my wings, I popped out of my cover and fired my beam at another drone, cutting its chestplates in two.

The return fire forced me back down behind the bank of the stream before I was hit in a critical area by a stun round. So far, I was holding my own against the drones, having offlined seven of them in the space of about two klicks. Faster than I thought this fight would go. But, I suspected it was going to go more slow from now on, since I was feeling drained from using the beam mode on my Plasma Chaingun. Ironhide definitely hadn't been exaggerating when he said the beam used up a lot more power than the normal firing option, I felt like I just ran twenty marathons, only marathons adjusted in size to suit Cybertronians.

Guess I had to use another weapon.

I returned my servo to normal and pulled my Nucleon off my backplates, the massive weapon humming to life as it connected to my systems.

I popped out of cover again, aimed at another drone, and fired my Nucleon twice.

My first shot hit the ground next to the drone, sending dirt, rock, and bits of trees flying, but leaving the drone mostly unharmed. My second shot, however, hit the drone squarely, but besides its armor denting inward where it was hit, the drone wasn't effected by the powerful blast.

I sent three more shots in the direction of the drone, missing completely once and scoring hits twice, the third hit finally offlining it. Seven left.

After ducking behind cover again to avoid a shot that almost hit me in the helm, I took aim and fired eight shots at two more drones, offlining both with the final shot I fired.

Seeing that only five drones were left, and that my Nucleon was reasonably effective against them, I stood up and stepped out of the stream, while at the same time sending rounds at the drones as fast as my weapon would fire.

The drones didn't react to the shots flying their way, didn't flinch at how the ground and trees were exploding and vaporizing each time a round from my Nucleon missed them. They kept up their assault, hitting me seemingly every time they pulled the trigger.

I slowed to a complete stop and fell to one knee-joint, being hit by so many stun rounds that I couldn't feel most of my frame. But I refused to totally go down. I had left my cover with the intention of finishing this, and I was going to finish it.

After what seemed an eternity, but in reality was closer to half a klick, the final drone was offlined by my Nucleon, having taken five hits to finally bring down.

I dropped my servo to my side and let some of the areas of my frame regain their feeling, my wings being the area I desired feeling to the most. That had been one of the tougher battles I fought, even though I was only getting hit with stun rounds. It seemed like my strength was being sapped each time a round made contact, although, that may have been because I hadn't gotten any recharge last night, and burned through a lot of energon by using the beam mode on my Plasma Chaingun. With those factors mixed in, it made it a lot harder to fight effectively.

Despite the added difficulty, though, I wouldn't take this fight back. I had given Optimus time to run, to take Arcee and try to contact base so she had a chance to live... I hope he succeeds in getting back to base, because even though the drones were offline, I had a feeling this wasn't over...

* * *

><p>Jhaxius watched as the feed from the last of his drones turned to static, faceplate blank even though he was enraged. The Xel'Tor ruined his plan. Again. He was supposed to be stunned right now, inside a holding cell on the Inescapable Shadow, not still standing after destroying all his drones while Optimus Prime fled with an injured Arcee.<p>

Jhaxius now regretted letting the Prime leave, at least then he would had something to show for all the offlined drones. He only had failure and anger right now. But, he still had several options available to accomplish the mission.

"All drones are down, Captain," Serus reported flatly, knowing the report was pointless, but needing to say it anyway.

"I am aware," Jhaxius said, forcing a calm tone in his voice.

"Orders, sir?" Highspeed asked.

Jhaxius stared at the static-filled video feeds on the view port for a moment, then looked at Axel. "Contact Slicer, and tell him that he and his Rogues are cleared to engage the Xel'Tor with whatever force below offlining him that they deem necessary," he ordered, referring to the other unit he had sent to the surface

"Yes, Captain Jhaxius," Axel replied quickly, then began started to establish a communications channel between his workstation and the squad leader on the surface.

As Axel hurried to carry out his orders, Praxis' optics fixated on the Inescapable Shadow's captain. "Captai-"

"You said that Extremis' orders were to bring the Xel'Tor to him alive," Jhaxius interrupted without sparing Praxis a glance, since the captain secretly doubted he'd have the courage to interrupt Extremis' SIC if he had been looking at him. "But you have said nothing about the condition the Xel'Tor must be in."

Praxis said nothing, just kept staring at Jhaxius.

* * *

><p>Optimus sprinted through the forest, using his left shoulder-joint to knock over the trees in his way, while also taking great care to keep any trees from hitting the femme he was carrying.<p>

_"Optimus to base, requesting space bridge at my coordinates!"_ He called through the universal communications channel he kept open.

His only answer continued to be static.

The Prime redoubled his efforts to get out of range of the jamming device. Arcee was even worse than she had been when Shadowstreaker gave her first aid, she was rapidly running out of time. He would not allow another of his soldiers to offline, not when the fate of another was already uncertain.

'Primus, protect Shadowstreaker,' Optimus thought as he lept over a group of boulders and kept on running. He had wanted to stay behind with the young mech and fight their attackers, but he knew if he did that, Arcee's already slim chances of survival dropped to zero, and Shadowstreaker, helm over heels in love with her, would either never be as good a soldier as he was, or never forgive him for staying behind to help him fight, and refused to listen to his orders. Either way, staying behind would have guaranteed the lose of two of his Autobots.

The femme he was carrying looked up at him with dim, flickering optics as if to ask what was happening, then her optics went completely dark for several micro-klicks.

"Stay with me, Arcee," the Prime said to the injured femme, silently praying that Shadowstreaker's decision to remain behind would not end up being for nothing. She was fading fast.

As Optimus continued sprinting through the forest, his comm suddenly came to life.

_"Base to Opt-us. -ease resp-d,"_ Prowl said through the universal communications channel the Prime had open, his voice crackling through the link like not all interference had been removed.

Optimus put everything he had into his sprint. _"Space bridge at my coordinates. Now!"_ He said in a borderline yell, hoping his voice wasn't corrupted by the remaining interference from the jammer.

The space bridge appeared in front of Optimus so quickly that he ran through it without realizing, and he found himself standing in the middle of the ops center in mere moments, where the majority of his Autobots were gathered around the workstation, along with their oldest human charge, his mother, and the three highest-ranking members of Shadow Company.

Elita, Chromia, and Ironhide were the closest ones to the space bridge, and had already been looking at the portal in concern before Prowl even opened it, having felt Arcee's pain through their ends of the bonds they shared with her.

Moonracer, who was standing next to her mate, ran forward with a prepared calm, having already been informed by Ironhide, Elita and Chromia that their sister needed to be treated. "We need to get her to the med-bay," she said, then she and Ratchet hurriedly relieved Optimus of the femme he was carrying and rushed her down the hallway, with Ironhide, his mate, and Elita not far behind.

Jazz looked at Optimus after Ratchet and Moonracer took Arcee away. "What happened out dere, OP?"

"We were ambushed," the Prime replied. "Our communications were jammed, and Arcee and I were hit in the first shots fired from our attackers. I am still functional, but as you saw, Arcee's life is dangling by a thread."

The saboteur looked at the space bridge, which Prowl had kept open, then his visor focused back on Optimus. "Where's the Shadowster'?" He asked, faceplate impassive despite the situation.

June leaned toward Jack. "Who's 'Shadowster'?" She asked at a slightly elevated volume, but to her damaged ears she was whispering.

MacTavish glanced back at the nurse. "He's the bot that saved both of your arses last night," he said shortly, then focused on the Autobots in front of his fellow S.T.F soldiers.

"Shadowstreaker asked me to take Arcee and, in his own words, 'Take her and run until you can contact base and get her to Ratchet and Moonracer,'" Optimus replied to Jazz's question. "He stayed behind to hold off our attackers while I went to accomplish that objective. But now returning him safely is my objective." He pulled the Star Saber off his backplates. "Autobots, with me. We have a rescue mission ahead of us."

Prowl stepped forward before Optimus could turn back to the space bridge. "Prime, with all due respect, your injury has severely hampered your combat capabilities. Under article four, regulation eight, protocol seventeen of the Autobot Military Doctrine, I hereby relieve you of field command until the Autobot CMO has cleared you for duty."

Optimus normally would have argued against being relieved from duty, but his useless servo throbbed with pain at that moment, and he nodded in acceptance. "I am relieved," he said, stating the official response for being relieved of duty. "Now go and bring back our fellow Autobot, Prowl."

"Acknowledged, Prime," the stoic mech said, transforming into his Dodge Charger form, causing the other Autobots to do the same, and driving by Optimus and toward the space bridge.

Optimus stood motionless as the rest of the Autobot's present drove passed him. Bumblebee's Camaro form, followed by Smokescreen's Saleen S7, Jazz's Nissan GT-R, the twins' Lamborghini Aventador forms, Flareup's Ford Fusion, and Bulkhead's Conquest Evade bringing up the rear.

It was an impressive sight, seeing most of his soldiers rolling out, but also pointless. The terrain of Maine would make it impossible for them to drive to Shadowstreaker's location, they would have to run as Optimus had. Jetfire and Springer would have been able to get around the problem of not being able to use an alt mode, but Prowl had contacted him earlier in the cycle to request permission to send them to investigate an abandoned energon mine, and would not be in contact with base for several breems at least. The Prime regretted giving Prowl permission to send them on that mission.

Optimus walked over to the workstation, turned off the space bridge, and watched the main screen with unblinking optics, not wanting to even take the risk of blinking and missing the tiniest detail as his Autobots moved to assist Shadowstreaker.

He just hoped they would be in time.

* * *

><p>I let myself recover for almost a klick, regaining feeling throughout most of my frame in that time, before standing up and walking forward, scanning the trees that weren't destroyed in the battle I just finished. I may have destroyed the drones, but I still felt like I was being watched, studied by unseen optics. And that didn't sit well with me.<p>

The branch of a fallen tree off to my left suddenly snapped, making my help whip to the left and point my Nucleon at whatever snapped the branch, but nothing there, just the fallen trees and a few small boulders.

A rustling came from my right, and I snapped my helm in that direction, only to see a similar sight as off to my left. Either I was being stalked, or I was going insane. And since I just finished fighting a group of drones that were trying to stun me, going insane was highly unlikely.

I stepped into a ready position, pedes spread, Nucleon out and moving slowly from side to side, optics looking for any sign of whoever, or whatever, was surrounding me, waiting for them, or it, to make a move.

I didn't have to wait long.

Another rustle reached my audio receptors, this time from my left. I looked left and aimed my Nucleon where the sound came from, nothing was there, like the other two times I heard something move, but I knew it wasn't what it seemed. But before I could fire a shot, something approached me from behind at incredible speeds, and stabbed me in the back of my left shoulder-joint with a sword, the blade going through my wing first and making me let out a cry of pain before I could bite it back. Injuries to the shoulder-joint I could handle without much of a problem, but having a wing stabbed _never_ felt good.

My unseen attacker used the blade lodged in my shoulder-joint to make me move my servo more to the side, then hit my Nucleon with something before removing his sword and running away, if I heard correctly, that is.

I turned around as soon as my attacker fled, but I saw nothing like the other three times I heard something. They like were like ghosts.

Growling slightly at how I still hadn't seen any of the bots surrounding me, I rolled my shoulder-joint experimentally. It didn't feel too bad, though that would likely change as I used it. My previous injuries to that shoulder-joint would make sure of that.

I gave the area around me a quick scan, then glanced down at my Nucleon. I frowned at what I saw.

It was sliced in two. A perfect cut, forty-five degree angle, right in the middle of the weapon. My attacker must have hit it with another sword, a very sharp one, if they managed to make such a clean cut.

'They wanted to make sure my most powerful weapon was useless, make me vulnerable to combat in close-quarters, which means they'll likely be moving in soon,' I thought, dropping my now useless Nucleon to the ground and deploying my swords. If they wanted to get in close, they could. Arcee taught me well. And I would use the things she taught me to offline those responsible for her condition. I hope Optimus got her to base...

'Don't think about that right now,' I told myself, forcing out my concerned thoughts about my partner and best friend.

I started looking around again, but quickly realized it would be useless. My attackers were phantoms, likely had some sort of personal cloaks. Trying to see them would be pointless, I had to make sure I focused entirely on listening for their movements.

Foregoing my attempts to see my attackers, I closed my optics and lowered my helm a bit, focusing on the sounds around me. There was a trick Arcee taught me after my initial training, one that basically made your CPU put more focus on hearing than any other sense. When done properly, it allowed you to hear a feather floating through the air, a cat walking through a field a mile away. She was a master at it, when she needed to use it. When she showed me its uses, she could call out my exact location in the Safe, while she was sitting in the elevator. This was the first time I had tried to use the trick myself. I hoped it would work for me like it had for her. Just needed to take a deep breath, push aside all thoughts, and release slowly...

Instantly, I felt myself calm, and my audio receptors picked up every sound around me.

A Fox, whimpering slightly from the hole it hid itself in, terrified of the loud, thunder-like noises it had been hearing for the last ten klicks.

A common earth worm digging through earth, moving away from the violent vibrations it kept feeling from the surface.

A Honey Bee's wings propelling it through the air as it flew to its hive, following the pheromones of its queen.

A Brown Trout's tail cutting through the water the stream, swallowing a small Frog that had the misfortune of coming too close to its hungry jaws.

A pede, modified to make as little noise as possible, sinking into a muddy bank, bracing for a leap.

I broke myself from my trance-like state, and as quickly as I could, turned my frame and stabbed the air behind me. My sword met some resistance in the form of an orange shield that suddenly flashed around an almost invisible outline of a bot.

The outline flickered after my sword hit its shield, and then its cloaking field failed, revealing my attacker to be a dull silver mech that stood as tall as Prowl and had two thin swords attached to his servos, both blades coated with blue plasma.

The mech stood there for a moment, seemingly shocked that I hit him while his cloak was engaged, but he quickly shook off his surprise and attacked me again, his swords becoming a blur as he avoided my own blades and hit me as many times as he could. He wasn't putting a lot of power behind any of his strikes, but his swords were easily cutting through both layers of my armor and damaging my protoform.

Ignoring the pain from the mech's attacks, I heel kicked him in the chestplates as hard as I could, causing his shield to break with a sound like shattering glass, and sending him flying into the far bank of the stream. I leapt forward before the mech could get back up, and, with a great effort to pierce his armor, buried my sword into his chestplates until I started to hit the mud beneath him.

The mech stiffened as my sword pierced his chassis, then went limp and offlined, his optics staying open as they went dark.

I pulled my sword out of the offlined mech and turned around, searching for any other cloaked bots. There was definitely more than one, since at least two had worked together to get rid of my Nucleon. So, where were th-

The knife was lodged deep in my side before I could finish my thought, causing me to yell at the searing pain. A sword slicing across my tank followed up the knife stabbing my side, along with a punch to the optic in the same moment. Several bots were attacking me at once, no one could move that quickly.

I retaliated by swinging both of my swords out of front of me horizontally in a blind strike, hoping to clip the shields of one of my attackers and make their cloaking fail.

As luck would have it, I clipped the shielding of three bots, making their shield flash orange as their cloaks failed, revealing my opponents as two mechs and a femme, all sporting the same colors and weapons as the first mech I fought.

I charged into one of the mechs, lowering my shoulder-joint as I hit him and knocking him off his pedes and breaking his shield, as well as temporarily taking him out of the fight while he picked himself off the ground.

As the first mech started picking himself up, I swung a sword at the other mech and the femme. They both blocked my attack with ease, but I expected them to be, all I wanted was for them to go on the defensive. I wouldn't last long if they all attacked me as one like they had been doing.

The second mech decided he wanted to continue attacking, and he stabbed the sword that wasn't locked with my own sword toward my tank, intending to either run me through or make me halt my offensive. But since my other sword was locked with one of the femme's blades, I had no way to disengage without leaving myself open to attack from another bot. This was going to suck.

With no way of dodging or blocking the mech's sword, I turned my hip and let the sword pierce my side, the same side that had a knife sticking out of it. The sword burned like lava, but I refused to cry out. I had cried out enough this cycle.

With both of the second mech's swords occupied, I deployed my left missile launcher from my shoulder-joint, and emptied the launcher at him.

The mech's shield flashed brighter and brighter as my missiles impacted it, but it held until my thirteenth missile hit, which finally broke the shield and let the last three missiles hit the mech's frame, with the last missile hitting him in the neck. He quickly pulled his swords back and fell back, grabbing his neck and gurgling as his own energon flowed down his throat.

As the second mech went down, the femme batted my sword away and leapt on my backplates, inflicting a dozen shallow stab wounds almost before I realized what she did, most of which went through my wings.

I bit back the pained yell that wanted to escape my mouth, returned my right servo to normal, then grabbed the helm of the femme on my backplates and threw her into the first mech, who had just gotten back up from my shoulder-joint bash, breaking the shield of the femme and sending the both of them back down to the ground in a heap.

Now with some breathing room, I pulled my Ion Displacer off my backplates and deployed my right missile launcher and aimed them both at the first mech and the femme. The two bots had time to widen their optics before I fired missiles, sending half to the mech, and half to the femme, while at the same time riddling both of them with my Ion Displacer.

Their armor was strong, easily withstanding the missiles I fired, but the added power from my Ion Displacer was too much, and they both fell back to the ground within a few micro-klicks, as offline as the mech that I offlined before being attacked by these three bots.

After offlining the first femme and first mech, I turned my Ion Displacer on the second mech, who was still rolling around on the ground, and put him out of his misery with a short burst aimed at his helm.

As my last attacker offlined, I stood with my Ion Displacer at the ready, prepared to defend myself from another bot. But no one else came, all was silent.

I sighed in relief and let myself drop back against the bank of the stream, too tired and injured to keep standing without taking a moment to let myself recover. My battle against the drones might have been bad, but that had been far worse. I had a lot of places leaking energon, and not one, but two holes in my side, one of which still had a knife sticking out of it.

'Probably should take that out,' I thought, then grabbed the knife sticking out of my side and pulled it out with a grunt. That one hadn't felt good, but then again, pulling a knife out of you never did. Oh, well, the pain was worth it. I was keeping them away from Arcee and Optimus... I think.

Where was Optimus? He said that he would return with reinforcements, but I had been here for a while, and he hadn't returned. Did the bots that were after me send more troops after him? And if they did, did they offline him? Or was he still running, having yet to get out of range of whatever was jamming our comms? And most importantly, was Arcee even still online? Or had she succumbed to her wound? If she had, I would destroy them all...

'No, no thoughts like that,' I told myself. I needed to keep acting like a distraction. I couldn't afford to let myself get angry and activate my Protocol, not when I didn't even know Arcee's condition. For all I knew, Optimus was already back at base, gathering the others while Ratchet and Moonracer worked to save Arcee. And if she was gone... Then I would embrace the the Quriomus Protocol.

With my anger pushed aside for now, I used my Ion Displacer as a crutch and got myself back on my pedes and slowly walked out of the stream, all the while watching for any more attackers.

Something else was coming, I could feel it in my joints.

* * *

><p>Jhaxius was back to drumming his digits against the arm of his chair. He waiting for a report from Axel. It had been an uncomfortable amount of time since he gave Slicer and his Rogues the green light to engage the Xel'Tor, and they had yet to report in. "Report," he said, finally having enough waiting.<p>

The green mech froze. For the last thirty micro-klicks, he had been sitting in silence, trying to find a way to tell his captain the life signals of the Rogues had gone offline. This was his first deployment, his training might have covered how to report failures to superiors, but it hadn't prepared him for dealing with military officers like Jhaxius. He intimidated Axel more than anyone else he had met, except Praxis, and he intimidated everyone except Extremis.

The Inescapable Shadow's captain narrowed his optics at Axel. "Report, Officer Axel," he ordered with a more forceful tone.

Axel fidgeted in his seat for a moment, before answering, "Uh... All Rogues are down, Captain Jhaxius."

Jhaxius' optic twitched. "Would you mind repeating that?"

"All Rogues are... Down, Captain... Jhaxius," Axel replied slowly, uncertain of what reaction to expect from his captain.

Jhaxius was silent for a long moment, internally screaming at how the Xel'Tor made another of his plans fail. He had never had three plans fail in so short a time, and it infuriated him.

He slammed his sevo on the arm of his chair, causing his bridge crew to jump in surprise. He had never done that in front of his bridge crew before. "Release Cyclops," he commanded with a snarl, directing the order at Serus. "Disable all safeties."

Serus protested, "But, sir-"

"Do as I say!" Jhaxius cut her off, his amber optics blazing with anger. "Deploy Cyclops, and destroy that piece of _slag_ down on the surface!"

Praxis stepped forward. "I warned you earlier, Captain Jh-"

"I don't give a _frag_ what Extremis ordered! That fragging son of a glitch is scrap metal!" The captain cried with a glare at Praxis, rage overriding logic. He had never been able to keep his cool when his plans went this badly, and having three plans fail in a row drove him over the edge. He shifted his glare back to Serus. "Deploy Cyclops! _Now_, Offic-"

The shot temporarily deafened half the bridge crew, amplified by the confined spaces of the bridge, and Jhaxius' helm snapped to the side before he slumped forward and onto the floor, a pool of energon quickly forming beneath the remaining half of his helm.

Praxis lowered the pistol he had pulled from his hip, smoke still rising out of its barrel. He looked down at the offlined captain. He had been a good military officer, but his temper had always been a problem, and this time it had gotten the better of him. Praxis doubted Extremis would let his actions go unpunished, but the Xel'Tor was worth more than Jhaxius had ever been. And he had been ordered by his leader to make sure the Xel'Tor was brought to him alive, he was making sure that order was followed.

Extremis' SIC looked up from the offlined captain and over to Axel. "Inform Scatterblast that his presence is required in the hanger," he stated, ignoring the silence of the bridge and the terrified looks he was getting from the bots around him. He was used to Extremis' followers being afraid of him. "He and his team are to accompany me to the surface."

"Y- yes, s- sir," Axel acknowledged quietly, his tone carrying nothing but fear as he turned to his workstation and started to establish a communications channel with Scatterblast.

As Axel followed his order, Praxis looked at Highspeed, who, like many of the bridge crew, had yet to move after seeing his captain offlined. "Commander Highspeed, you have the bridge," he said, then turned and walked toward the bridge door without waiting for Highspeed to acknowledge him. He replaced the orange power crystal as he walked to the door, and inserted a green one, which would produce a bullet laced with a sedative that acted instantly and effectively.

Sometimes, a vital mission required a more direct approach in order to succeed.

* * *

><p>As I looked around for enemies, an odd sound reached my audio receptors. It sounded like a hum, but it seemed to vibrate the air as it went, almost like tiny sonic booms, only without the boom. It was strange.<p>

The sound got louder, and I looked around in a circle for what was making it, holding my Ion Displacer at the ready. But there was nothing that didn't look like it belonged in the forest. Where was it coming from?

A gust of wind hit me in the top of the helm, which caused me to stop for a moment. Wind didn't gust downward, it always traveled horizontal to the ground, that meant the gust that hit me wasn't natural.

I looked up at the sky above me. It was clear, with only a few clouds blocking out its blue color, but I noticed an almost invisible outline directly me that seemed to be growing in size, shimmering as it moved. It looked very much like the outline of the bots that attacked me, which meant the outline had to be some kind of cloaked craft, likely a gunship.

The outline continued to grow until it was more than triple the size it had been when I first saw it, then it dropped its cloak, revealing it to be a large, oddly-designed gunship, like I expected. A panel door opened on its underside, and a cannon slid out of the opening and pointed at the ground near me, its barrel already starting to glow orange.

'That's not fair,' I thought, bracing myself for the inevitable.

The cannon fired, and I was sent flying through the air by the ball of energy that came from its barrel and hit the ground next to me.

I didn't hear the wind rushing by my audio receptors as I soared through the air, or see the ground become the sky, or even feel my Ion Displacer fly from my grip as I hit the ground, I was too busy feeling all my other injuries.

My left shoulder-joint was locked up completely, with at least one of its gears totally shattered along with my earlier injury. The stab wounds in my side had opened up more, and I felt energon leaking out of them like faucets. New wounds had been created by the blast as well, and with all the other smaller injuries I had collected from my battles, they easily numbered in the dozens. And on top of it all, my vision was flickering even though my optics were closed. I was starting to fall into stasis lock.

'Just like my dream,' I thought with realization. My dreams had been warning me about this moment, but I hadn't seen the similarities until just now. Whoever gave me them did a terrible job of warning me properly.

Feeling something lightly kick my pede, I slowly forced my optics to open, adding even more pain by fighting against falling into stasis lock again. I blinked once, slowly, then saw a shadow standing in front of me, almost on top of my pedes. I focused on it.

It took a moment, but the shadow formed into the shape of a dark grey, almost black, and red mech that stood at least Optimus' height, perhaps taller. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw at least six other mechs flanking the first, all pointing rifles at me, but it was clear the mech directly in front of me was the leader.

The mech looked down at me with emotionless grey optics, an odd color to see on a Cybertronian. And without a word, he pulled an strange-looking pistol from his hip and pointed it at me.

I had time to picture one last thought, one of Arcee, giving me one of her angelic smiles, before my world went black as the mech squeezed his digit around the trigger.

* * *

><p><strong>I know, I'm evil. I am aware of this fact. But I have a plan, it has been set in motion, and it will, eventually, make you smile. It is all a matter of time, and how quickly I can write my chapters. Please, please, be patient with me. This is the last time I am going to ask for your patience, I promise.<strong>

**Now, I am most likely not going to finish my next chapter within the next month. In fact, I know I won't. And here's why.**

**I am going to be out of town for more than a week starting at the end of this month, and won't get back until the beginning of August. So even if I finish my chapter before I leave, I won't post it. I want to have a completed, or mostly completed, chapter waiting for me when I get back, so I can post a chapter in August without any problems. There is a slim chance, however, that I might be able to write two chapters next month, since I hopefully will be able to post my next chapter early in the month. But, we'll see.**

**On a final note, Fate Calls is now more than 300k words... O.o Am I the only one who finds that crazy? Lol.**

**This chapter's credit song is "Two Steps From Hell - Hurt" This is a short one, only one minute and forty seconds or so, but it's a good one. And there's just something about it that I can't place my finger on, something that just fits with the ending of my chapter like a glove. In my own opinion, anyway.**

**Please be sure to leave a review, since I am grateful for anything from short, encouraging reviews, to long reviews with constructive criticism. I really, really appreciate all reviews besides flames, because all those do is make you look trollish.**

**Thank you all for taking the time to read this, and I'll see you soon.**


	33. Mysteries

**I am back from my trip, and man was it tiring. Haha. I drove roughly forty hours in the last ten days, and got a total of probably about sixty hours of sleep in same number of days. But it was worth it. I am feeling happier than I have been in a long time, and that's worth the tiredness all by itself.**

**Alright, so I noticed that a number of people passed up on reviewing, and those that did were quite angry with me for how I ended the last chapter. I completely understand your anger, and I also don't blame those who didn't leave a review, if your reasons for doing so were because I made you angry. But please, please understand, I am not cruel enough to not have Shadow' and Arcee get together. That pairing _will_ happen, and it is within sight for me, so please don't give up on this. Fluff is coming.  
><strong>

**Thanks go out to everyone who favorited, followed, or reviewed since the last chapter, and extra thanks go to those that continue sticking with Fate Calls through the rough patches. Your feedback and continued interest mean so much. :)**

**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.**

* * *

><p><strong>June 2, 2013 1:53 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

Arcee laid on her medical berth, optics staring blankly up at the ceiling while she rested a servo on the right side of her chestplates. Ratchet and Moonracer had, apparently, worked for a full solar-cycle without stop to stabilize her and repair her chestplates. She apparently had been lucky, another five inches to the left, and she would have joined all the Autobots, neutrals, and Decepticons that this war had claimed. The shot she had taken wouldn't leave behind a deformity or a scar, for things could leave a permanent scar behind on a Cybertronian, but she would suffer from spark pain for the next six jours as she recovered from her grievous injury. But she didn't feel any pain right now, or much of anything, in fact. And all because her CPU was still processing a single thought.

Shadow' was gone.

Her sisters and Ironhide had been the ones who told the news to her a few breems ago, after she onlined for the first time following her injury. They had done everything they could to break it to her gently, but she had known from the emotions she had been getting from her end of her bonds with Ironhide and her siblings, and the fact Shadow' wasn't there when she onlined, that something happened to her partner while she was offline. And she had known it was something she wouldn't recover from.

From what Ironhide said, who was passing on Optimus' debriefing, Shadow' had seen the attack coming, and tried to tackle Optimus and Arcee to the ground, but only had a small amount of success. Optimus almost lost his right servo, and Arcee almost lost her life. Only Shadow's actions, and Ratchet and Moonracer's treatment, saved her.

After he treated her wound to the best of his abilities, Shadow' and Optimus found out their comm-links were being jammed. Her partner came to the conclusion their attackers were after him, since he had only been shot with a stun round while she and Optimus were hit with live ones, and that they weren't targets. He had pleaded with the Prime to take her and run out of range of the jammer so he could get her to base, while he stayed behind and kept the bots attacking them focused on him. Optimus had succeeded in getting her back to base in time for Ratchet and Moonracer to save her, just, and sent all except Jetfire and Springer to reinforce her partner, but Shadow's life signal had flatlined well before the others arrived. And by the time they did, he was gone. No parts, no frame, no Shadow', just the hulks of drones and some bots her partner offlined, as well as a large amount of energon that Ratchet confirmed was chemically identical to Shadowstreaker's, which along with his flat life signal, got rid of any doubt Arcee had in her CPU.

Her partner, her best friend, the mech she came to love, was offline. And just like her other partners, she had been powerless to stop his offlining.

'Three partners, three mechs I've failed,' Arcee thought, continuing to stare at the ceiling blankly. She had yet to gain any feeling since she found out Shadow' was gone. She felt empty, hollow, like her entire world had died, and everything around her was lifeless. Her fellow Autobots had come to visit after they heard she was online, but she couldn't remember what any of them said, and she didn't care. They weren't Shadow'.

Her sisters and Ironhide had tried, and were still trying, to comfort her through their bonds, but Arcee could barely find the strength to acknowledge them. Losing her third partner had pushed her over the edge. Her walls were in place, higher and stronger than ever before, and she wouldn't let anyone in. Her spark was broken, torn in two. The one thing that had healed her more than anything else was gone. He had been taken away, before she could even tell him the three words she had wanted to for since he came back from the station in stasis lock. I love you.

The med-bay door slid open, interrupting Arcee's thoughts, but not making her react at all to the sound, or even cause her look up to see who was now in the med-bay with her. She just kept looking at the ceiling, optics unblinking and blank.

Optimus Prime's towering frame entered her field of vision. His right servo was in a sling, and would remain there for five more mega-cycles, or until Ratchet cleared him for duty. "Arcee," he greeted, tone neutral.

The blue and pink femme continued staring at the ceiling, appearing to ignore the Prime's presence.

"It is good to see you online," Optimus continued. "How are you feeling?"

Arcee stayed silent.

The Prime's faceplate remained impassive, but a saddened look entered his optics. "I... Am sorry, Arcee."

The blue and pink femme blinked, but continued to not say a word.

"He was a good mech, and an excellent soldier," Optimus said. "He never lost his helm in battle."

Arcee didn't respond.

"A number of the others are greatly missing his presence, especially the children, Colonel Lennox, and his men," Optimus continued on, trying to get Arcee to respond to something. She had never been this bad, even when Tailgate was executed. "They have organized a memorial for Shadowstreaker, one that will not begin until you are released from the med-bay. The rest of us will be in attendance, as well. He integrated himself into this team very well. Andhe will never be forgotten by any of us."

Arcee kept staring at the ceiling.

Optimus sighed quietly and sat in a chair next to the berth. He didn't say anything for a long moment, uncertain what could cause Arcee to at least partially lower her walls. She always was a stubborn femme, but one with reasons behind her behavior. She had been better, happier, in the last orbital-cycle, but now that Shadowstreaker was gone, so was she, in a way. Perhaps a different tactic was required to get her to open up.

The Prime opened a sub-space pocket and pulled out the remains of Shadowstreaker's Ion Displacer and Nucleon Shock Cannon, the only traces of him they had found besides energon that was a chemical match to his, and placed them against the medical berth. "We found these among the battleground. Given your status as his partner, you have the authority to order the parts destroyed, or keep them for your own purposes."

Slowly, Arcee turned her helm to look at the destroyed weapons. They were both useless, with the Nucleon's barrel sliced in two, while the Ion Displacer was warped and blacked from what had likely been an explosion. "He went through quite a battle, if he used those," she said, tone as blank and hollow as she felt.

"He did," Optimus said, keeping his neutral tone despite the small satisfaction he felt as Arcee spoke for the first time since she was informed of Shadowstreaker's fate. A short sentence was hardly enough to warrant any celebration. "The battle he waged destroyed much of the forest we traveled to. Agent Fowler even had to organize a group of humans to begin replanting trees, after we cleaned the area."

"What else did you find?" The blue and pink femme asked, voice barely audible.

"Nothing you have not already been informed of," Optimus answered.

"How many did he take with him?" Arcee questioned, optics and tone still empty even though she actually wanted to know. Her sisters and Ironhide hadn't given an exact number of the offlined drones and bots they found.

"Nineteen in total. Fifteen drones, and four unidentified Cybertronians," Optimus replied. "All were armed with weapons similar to those Springer and Jetfire recovered from the station with Shadowstreaker. We have moved their remains to base, in the hopes we might be able to learn who they are, how they came to possess such advanced technology, and where they came from."

Arcee nodded absently, still staring at her offlined partner's destroyed weapons. Finding out where these bots came from was a good goal, it would give her the chance to repay them in kind for offlining Shadow', _her_ Shadow'.

'Stop,' she ordered herself. Shadow' wasn't hers, wasn't even her courted... And now he never would be.

"He fought well," Arcee said, almost to herself. She reached out and brushed her digits against her partner's broken Ion Displacer, its barrels warped and partially melted from what she suspected was a powerful explosion. An explosion that probably offlined him.

"He did. He always fought well, especially when was the fight was to save a fellow Autobot," Optimus said, holding back the urge to say, 'Especially when he fought for you.' It wasn't his place to tell Arcee how her partner felt for her, and that piece of information would only cause her more grief.

The blue and pink femme fell silent. Shadow' wouldn't have had to cover Optimus' retreat if she had seen the shot coming. Had she not needed immediate medical attention, the three of them could have stayed together and fought alongside one another. Her partner would have still been among them if she hadn't failed to notice the sniper.

Optimus, seeing the look on Arcee's faceplate, internally sighed. "It was not your fault, Arcee."

"We should have been there for him, _I_ should have been there," Arcee said, voice blank. "Had we been there, he wouldn't have been offlined, and his frame taken away."

"We would have been torn apart, Arcee. I nearly lost my servo, and you were klicks away from offlining. And we were only hit with one shot each," Optimus countered. "The Cybertronians that attacked us did not care whether we lived or not, they only wanted to take Shadowstreaker alive."

"At first they did, but then he became too much trouble," Arcee said.

The Prime nodded slowly. "Yes," he said as slowly as his nod, uncertain of what else to say. Not something that happened to him often. "At some point they found it to be easier to simply... Offline him."

Arcee went back to her silence, looking up at the ceiling again.

A saddened look crossed Optimus' faceplate, then he stood up and walked to the door, his attempt to help Arcee only providing her a brief distraction from her thoughts. He glanced back at Arcee just as the med-bay door opened for him. "For your own sake, Arcee, I pray that you chose to focus on your memories of Shadowstreaker, and not how he was lost to us." With that, he walked out of the med-bay and into the hallway, the door automatically closing behind him and leaving Arcee alone again.

Little sound carried in the med-bay after Optimus left, and Arcee liked it that way. It let her focus on her thoughts. And right now her thoughts were focused on a conversation she had almost two jours ago with Shadow'.

_"I've... I've lost two partners already, Shadow', and I'm not sure how I would take losing a third..." She had said quietly as she stared straight out in front of her, away from her partner sitting next to her. "Before you said who left you in stasis lock, there was a part of me that thought you had left the other bot in worse shape, that you hadn't gone down without offlining the one who put you down... But after I found out you fought Megatron, and he was the one who left you in stasis lock, the realization about how easily you could have offlined kinda hit me hard," she was getting upset, and she knew it, but she pushed it to the side as much as she could. "You know, with everything I've seen in this war, I thought I was past being scared, but apparently I'm not. That can't be healthy for me, can it?"_

_"It is, actually," her partner had replied, sounding slightly off-put by her words. "It means you care, feel concern over losing your friends. When we become numb to the passings of friends and those close to us, we really do become machines, just as we appear to organics." He had looked down at her, a serious glint in his royal cobalt optics. "Don't you ever lose the fear of losing friends, Arcee, because that will mean you've totally lost hope that you'll ever see the future we're all fighting for."_

_Arcee had looked back at him in puzzlement, while at the same time she thought about how his habit of speaking what was on his processor was one of the reasons she had come to love him. "And what future are we fighting for, Shadow'?" She had asked curiously._

_Her partner had paused for a long moment, before finally responding, "We're fighting for the future where Cybertron is in a new Golden Age, where all Cybertronians enjoy true freedom, where there is peace between the Autobots and Decepticons, where all those that have fallen victim to this war can truly be laid to rest, where we have all settled down, raised our families, and passed down the knowledge of how this war started, so that the generation that comes after us never lets it happen again."_

Arcee pulled herself from the memory. She had reacted to her partner's cliched response with humor, and he had acknowledged his statement was rather cheesy, but his answer to her first question had been almost spot on. When you became numb, you had given up on hope, even though hope was never lost, only clouded. Shadow' had been very serious when he told her to not lose the fear of losing friends, and as a result becoming numb, and right now, she was doing exactly what he told her not to do. Become numb.

The blue and pink femme looked at the destroyed weapons of her partner, the only remaining pieces of him. He had faced an unknown enemy so she could live, and here she was, acting dead to the world. How disappointed would he be in her if he was sitting next to her right now? The answer was probably very. That was unacceptable.

At that moment, Arcee decided to no longer let herself be numb to everyone around her. She would let herself live, like Shadow' had fought and offlined for. It would take her time, but eventually she would laugh, smile, and joke, of that she was certain. But, if she had any say in the matter, she would never take another partner.

That position was filled.

**(Human calendar) June 2, 2013 2:08 P.M (UTC-6:00 Mountain Standard Time)**

**(Cybertronian date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since Golden Age)**

**Inescapable Shadow, sub space stream**

_"Repeat your previous statement, Praxis,"_ the holographic image of Extremis said, his faceplate set in the neutral expression that never left him, and his unnaturally deep and mechanical voice carrying no emotion, yet somehow sounding angry to Praxis' audio receptors.

Praxis held the holographic gaze of his commander, having already prepared himself for contacting Extremis via a Quantum Entanglement Communicator. His debriefing was long overdue, and he would have done it after they finished loading the sedated Xel'Tor onboard the Inescapable Shadow and fled the system of the humans undetected, but circumstances had prevented him from doing so. They had been more than four-million light-years from Extremis' HQ, their communications were very advanced, but the Inescapable Shadow had been one of the first of their ships equipped a QEC, and, given its minor status in the fleet as a whole, it had yet to be retrofitted with their newer versions of Quantum Entanglement. The ship had to get within a certain range in order to have a conversation free of lag. And they only entered within that range twenty klicks ago.

"I offlined Jhaxius, and took over his command under the grounds of insubordination," Praxis stated. "He was refusing to follow the orders you gave him, and you sent me to make sure he followed. I acted with appropriate force, sir."

The hologram's ruby red optics stared into Praxis', then his commander nodded slightly. _"Your actions were within protocol, and also unavoidable. Jhaxius was stubborn, and at times reckless. He let his pride get in the way of his orders, and, had you not relieved him of command, would have had the Xel'Tor offlined in his blind rage."_ he said. Extremis' hologram folded one pede over the other and sipped at the cube of energon in his servo, undoubtedly high-grade. _"What is the status of the Xel'Tor?"_

"Sedated and secured in a holding cell, with guards posted outside," Praxis answered, silently relieved Extremis was taking the offlining of one of his military officers so well. His commander's wrath was... Terrifying, even to him. "He sustained extensive injuries during Jhaxius' attempts to capture him, and I regret to report I had to add to them."

Extremis' did not react, at least visibly, such was his way. _"Clarify."_

"Jhaxius' plan to capture the Xel'Tor required luring him, and any Autobot with him, to a remote location on the home world of the humans, where fifteen Stalker drones were to capture him, and offline the accompanying Autobots. The plan nearly worked, but the Xel'Tor realized they had been lured into a trap and alerted the Autobots with him," Praxis explained. "The drones failed their main objective, and were destroyed by the Xel'Tor. Jhaxius then authorized the Rogues to engage and wound him, but they, too, were offlined, but not without inflicting numerous injuries. Jhaxius attempted to deploy Cyclops, but I offlined him before he could. I then went down to the surface with Scatterblast and his team. We pacified the Xel'Tor with a Hard-Light Cannon to prevent further casualites, then sedated him before he could expire from his injuries."

Extremis' hologram, which had been silent throughout Praxis' answer, stared into the optics of his SIC. _"I find your reasoning to be acceptable, under the grounds of preserving as many of my soldiers as possible. But despite that, the Xel'Tor is The Key to many Doors. I hope you have taken the necessary measures to ensure he does not offline while sedated."_

Praxis nodded once. "I have, sir. Aidworker and several medical drones worked to repair the Xel'Tor's injuries, as well as return his energon levels to normal, after we returned to the Inescapable Shadow. He is now in perfect health."

_"He offlined a combined total of nineteen Stalker drones Rogues while either in perfect health, or while he was injured,"_ Extremis stated factually. _"Have you taken precautions to prevent him from being a problem when you remove the sedative?"_

"Yes, sir. I ordered Aidworker to introduce Virus E7 into his systems, he will be unable to transform or deploy any of his weapons until we remove the virus," Praxis answered.

_"Good, we cannot afford to have him be a problem when you arrive. Thanks to Jhaxius' attacks, he will take far more convincing than I had hoped,"_ Extremis said as he slowly swirled his cube of high-grade. _"What of the Autobots accompanying the Xel'Tor? You did mention their fates."_

"Their exact fates are unknown, but at least one is assumed to be online. They fled after the ambush failed," Praxis replied. "They retreated beyond the jamming capabilities of the Inescapable Shadow, and presumably returned to their base."

A trace of confusion entered the holographic optics of Extremis, but it was so faint and was gone so quickly Praxis almost thought it had been a flicker of the hologram. _"Autobots are not known for leaving one of their own behind."_

"No, sir, they are not. But they were injured in the failed ambush, one of them gravely. I believe the Xel'Tor fought the drones so his companions could return to their base," Praxis said.

Extremis' hologram nodded marginally. "_A logical conclusion. He was with the Autobots, his loyalty to them is most certainly strong, strong enough to sacrifice himself so his fellow soldiers could escape,"_ he said. _"How many Autobots were with him?"_

"Two. A femme and a mech," Praxis answered. "The femme was the one who was gravely injured, and on an intriguing note, I believe there was a mutual attraction between she and the Xel'Tor."

_"Interesting."_ Extremis swirled his cube and raised it up to his mouth. "_What were the names of the Autobots?"_ He asked, mechanical voice almost carrying a curious tone, but sounding no different than his usual tone.

Praxis never understood how he did that. "The femme with him was a famous recon scout by the name of Arcee, and the mech was the Autobots' leader, Optimus Prime."

Extremis froze, the cube of high-grade stopping inches from his lips. He stayed that way for two micro-klicks, far longer than Praxis had ever seen him pause. He looked at Praxis, his holographic, ruby red optics carrying a look as firm as Primax, yet also completely unreadable to Praxis' highly trained and experienced optics.

_"What?"_ Extremis finally asked.

"The two companions of the Xel'Tor, were the recon scout known as Arcee, and Optimus Prime," Praxis answered, blinking once at his commander's question. He had never needed to repeat himself to Extremis.

Extremis' hologram continued staring at him for a brief moment, then he looked away, as if focused on something else. _"Keep the Xel'Tor sedated until your arrival in six breems,"_ he said, then he cut the link, leaving his SIC staring at the wall behind the QEC.

Praxis' faceplate tightened slightly in confusion. He never had seen Extremis act that way, and he had been the first one to follow him. Saying Extremis' behavior was odd, would be a vast understatement.

The dark grey and red mech pushed his confusion aside and turned to leave the communications room. He didn't have time to wonder why Extremis had reacted in the way that he did, he had too many responsibilities as the Inescapable Shadow's acting captain for such thoughts. And he had learned long ago to not try and look for meaning in every one of Extremis' mysteries.

A bot would find themselves investigating something new every solar-cycle.

* * *

><p>I felt myself online in almost the exact moment my world went dark, but didn't feel the ground against my backplates. Strange.<p>

Snapping my optics open, I was greeted by the sight of emotionless grey optics staring into my own, optics belonging to the dark grey and red mech that shot me just before the lights went out. He was crouched down to my level, making me realize I was on my knee-joints, with my servos bound in front of me.

"He is online, weapons up," the dark grey and red mech ordered in the language of Cybertron, voice as blank as his optics as he rose from his crouch and turned to a holographic panel I noticed behind him.

The sounds of multiple weapons powering up caused me to look away from the mech in front of me and look around me, where I heard the weapons power up.

Four large, dull silver mechs were standing on both sides of me, holding rifles that looked like updated versions of weapons I saw on the station. Were these the Cybertronians who bulit that place?

I looked passed the mechs surrounding me. We were on what appeared to be the bridge of a ship, complete with a view port with streaks of blue and black on the outside, likely what their FTL looked like from inside their ship. It had a lot of technology similar to the station's, or had things that reminded me of the technology, such as the captains chair, which was floating off the floor. There were other bots with us, all sitting at holographic panels like the one behind the dark grey and red mech, but there were not as many as I expected there would be on a bridge as large as this. They were a mixture of femmes and mechs, and they were all staring at me with an odd look in their optics. Well, except for a green mech who was no more than half my height, he was fidgeting at in his chair, trying not to look at me. Guess I scared him, that or he was a rookie, and found my various injuries hard to look-

My injuries.

I glanced down at my frame. It was completely repaired, not a trace remained of my stab or gunshot wounds. My paint looked almost polished, as if the repair job was so good, being clean was a side effect. The only thing that wasn't pristine about my frame was my vision, I noticed. It was glitching slightly, not flickering or fading between darkness and light, but glitching, like a circuit in my helm was loose. The problem with that was, I felt totally normal, and that meant I likely had a virus, one that my captors had planted in me.

'What do they even want with me?' I thought as I looked up from my frame and back at the dark grey and red mech, typing something into the panel in front of him. He breathed discipline and control, nothing else. He was the no-nonsense commander, everyone else was an underling to command, and they followed his lead without question, from what I could read from the bridge crew members. And if his soldiers had weapons far more advanced than anything we had, that meant this ship was just as advanced.

So why did he capture me? Was he hoping I would be some kind of leverage against the Autobots? No, that couldn't be it. He could have just captured Optimus if he wanted that. Did he capture me just because of my relation to Solus? It was possible. They knew I was her son, since they sent a message that led us into their trap, so were they hoping I knew secrets of the Thirteen? Tough luck in that was the case. Basically the only thing they had told me was they hadn't been able to create pure Primax. Or, was this mech not even the commander? And he was just taking me to the commander? If so, where were they taking me? And... How long had I been out?

I realized then that I had no idea how much time had past since I was shot by the mech in front of me, no way of knowing if Optimus ever got back to base... No idea whether the femme I loved with all my spark was even online...

'Please let her be online,' I thought, silently praying she was alright.

"Commander Highspeed," the dark grey and red mech said, bringing me out of my thoughts. "Bring us out of sub-space."

'They used sub-space as a means of travel?' I thought. The concept, while unusual, was very possible and effective. Sub-space was the extra-dimensional space between realities, meaning the laws of Physics didn't apply to it. Mostly, sub-space was used as personal storage, such as the pockets all Cybertronians had built into their frames, but if you knew how to manipulate it enough, you could have light travel hundreds, thousands, millions, or even billions of times faster while in sub-space. They must have a good grasp of how sub-space worked.

"Yes, sir," a red mech to the side of the captain answered, ordered tone seemingly forced and covering up a tone of fear and anger. Why was he hostile to his captain? And why would he be afraid of him?

I pushed my questions aside as the mech now identified as Highspeed waved his servos over a holographic panel he was sitting in front of, which caused the blue and black streaks outside the view port to rapidly fade away, and be replaced by a view of a planet with two suns, one yellow, one orange.

The planet was a large world, at least half again the size of Earth, or perhaps bigger. It looked similar to the planet I had called home for my entire life, but it had more ocean and less landmass. No deserts or snowy areas were visible, at least on this side of it, it looked like the only type of terrain on the planet thick rainforest.

It also seemed like there were several space stations in high orbit above the planet, but we were too far away for me to be sure.

"Report, Commander Highspeed," the dark grey and red mech said after the ship came out of FTL.

"Sub-space jump was successful, rupture has closed behind us," Highspeed reported blankly, as if repeating something he had said hundreds of times before, but also with that hidden tone of fear and anger in it.

"As expected. Bring us to low orbit," the captain ordered, either not hearing or ignoring the hidden tone Highspeed's voice.

Highspeed complied by moving his servos over his holographic panel in a rehearsed motion, one that caused the ship we were on to move toward the planet at an impressive pace, which would most certainly get us to the planet in only a few klicks, at the most.

Within a klick, the ship approached the objects I believed to be space stations when I first saw them. As it turned out, they weren't stations.

They were ships, seven of them.

Each ship was massive, no less than two-hundred and fifty kilometers in length, dwarfing even the Infinite Reverence. Their grey hulls were somewhat sleek, but mostly bulky, like they were designed purely for combat. Countless gun emplacements riddled the hull of every ship, from bow to stern, with each cannon being at least as large as the stealth frigate the others and I helped the neutrals fight last orbital-cycle. And on the bow of every ship, I saw three enormous main cannons whose barrels were wider than the Dark Matter was long, and looked like they could fire in multiple angles.

More ships soon came into view. They were similar in appearance as the seven titanic dreadnoughts, only far, far smaller, ranging from perhaps two to thirty kilometers in length. Still large, but not even in the same galaxy as the capital ships.

However, their numbers more than made up for their small-er size. There were hundreds to each of the dreadnoughts they flew around, totaling to about one tenth of the Autobot armada, I estimated. The problem was, our forces were spread across hundreds, if not thousands, of worlds, making it nearly impossible for us to gather a large fleet together. These Cybertronians didn't seem to have that problem, and had a larger fleet here than we could ever amass in a single place. Made me wonder how so many Cybertronians came to be here in the first place.

'And why do they need so much firepower?' I thought as our ship passed under one of the dreadnoughts and its accompanying fleet. Going by the size of their main cannons, a single shot from one of the capital ships would be enough to either turn an entire planet to glass, or destroy it outright. And I didn't even know what those monsters fired. I might have been _underestimating_ their power, for all I knew. A terrifying thought.

After our ship completely passed by the orbiting fleets, the dark grey and red mech looked at Highspeed. "Commander Highspeed, you have the ship until your docking is complete," he stated emotionlessly, then turned around and walked by me. "Get the Xel'Tor on his pedes."

I didn't have time to wonder how the captain knew I was the Xel'Tor, since two of the grey mechs surrounding me lowered their rifles and pulled me up on my pedes, then returned to their original positions and aimed their weapons at me again. Guess we were going somewhere.

I turned around and saw the dark grey and red mech standing next to a door, servos at his sides as he stared at me, as if waiting for me to follow an unspoken order. I was supposed to follow him, then.

With an internal sigh, I started walking toward the door, the guards around me matching my pace and closing in around me, weapons at the ready while appearing to be held in a non-threatening manner.

The dark grey and red mech pressed a holographic button next to the door when I started moving, revealing four more grey guards standing in a bare hallway just outside the door. The captain lead my guards and I into the bare hallway, and the four new guards fell in step with my own.

'Eight guards just for me? I am not sure if I should feel threatened or flattered,' I thought as we continued down the hallway, the captain and my guards causing any crew members in the hall to move out of the way when they passed.

After a short walk, the dark grey and red mech led my guards and I into a side room, or what I thought was a side room. It was only when the door to the side room closed, and I saw a femme sitting in a pilot's seat, that I realized we had entered a shuttle.

"Detach," the the leading mech said to the femme pilot once the door closed, walking forward to stand next to her seat, and stare out the view port in front of her.

"Yes, Praxis," the femme said in a professional, yet intimidated tone, giving me a name for the mech who shot me as she pressed holographic buttons and flipped solid switches.

I felt the shuttle jerk after she flipped one switch in particular. We were detached from the ship.

The femme then focused on moving her servos over a holographic panel, not unlike the one I had seen Highspeed use, and the shuttle began moving forward, down toward an island off the coast of another, larger island.

I remained in the middle of the shuttle as we flew down to the planet, unable to move since my guards were crowded around me. Think they took their job a little too seriously.

Our shuttle eventually got through the planet's atmosphere, and I saw two incredibly massive structures on the island come into view.

The first was a complex made of gold alloy, and seemed to be our destination. It was built in the middle of the island, surrounded completely by trees that rivaled those I saw in the Pocket Universe. It was designed in a simplistic fashion, nothing fancy or over the top. A shipyard was near the complex, with multiple dry docks, some with ships docked in them, that were large enough to fit a ship the size of the Nemesis, or perhaps larger. There were also a number of panels hidden on the entire structure. They may have been housings for anti-air cannons, but I didn't know for sure, since the second structure commanded most of my attention.

The second complex was far larger than the first, and was made out of bright white metal, likely an alloy of Primax. It was mostly built on land, but several areas were built beyond the a massive cliff that was the edge of the island, leaving parts of the structure hanging kilometers above the sea below. Its design was, unlike the first, more artistic and appealing. More thought had gone into its design, and it reminded me of the construction style of the Primes. Maybe they were here at one point.

Silver and gold symbols covered much of the complex's surface. Most of the symbols were unfamiliar and alien, but I recognized the largest of them, the one displayed on the front of the structure.

The one I had on either side of my helm.

'What? How did that get there?' I asked myself, staring at the symbol in masked confusion. That symbol identified me as a direct descendant of Solus Prime, why was it built onto the side of a complex built by the Primes? Did it mean more than I thought?

I didn't have time to think about it anymore, because our shuttle touched down on a landing pad on top of the gold complex at that moment, blocking the symbol from view.

Praxis walked away from the femme pilot and opened the shuttle door, then stepped out onto the landing pad as other bots moved forward to service the shuttle, probably for its return trip to the ship we were on earlier.

One of my guards nudged me lightly with his rifle. "Get moving, Xel'Tor," he ordered in a professional tone.

I gave the guard a brief look, but followed the guard's instructions and stepped out onto the landing pad, where Praxis waited with another set of guards. They honestly didn't need so many.

"Welcome to Ventqura Munitum, Xel'Tor," Praxis said as the guards around him formed with the ones already around me. He then turned and walked toward a lift on the far side of the landing pad.

'I don't feel very welcome,' I thought, grudgingly moving to follow the dark grey and red mech when the guard from before lightly nudged me again.

I had the feeling I would never feel welcome on this world.

* * *

><p>Extremis sat in his gravity chair, scanning the holographic displays in front of him while drinking a cube of high-grade. It was his fourth since Praxis' report, but he was not at all hampered by the rich liquid. His... Unique physiology wouldn't allow him to become overcharged, no matter how much high-grade he consumed. Having that ability was useful, but for the first time in countless vorns, a small part of Extremis wished he did not have it.<p>

His first lieutenant's report had brought memories Extremis wished to remain off his processor. He was dwelling on things he had buried long ago, thinking about battles that happened long before he ever stepped on Ventqura Munitum... And the Cybertronians involved in them.

But memories weren't important, and were a distraction from what he should be focusing on. The Xel'Tor's arrival.

Extremis focused his attention on one display in particular, and dismissing the others with a flick of his wrist and enlarging the remaining one in the same motion. The display was a live feed from a security camera, one located at the bottom of the lift to the landing pad the shuttle carrying his Second in Command and the Xel'Tor landed on nearly a klick ago. They would be in frame soon.

After only a few micro-klicks, the lift came into frame, along with its occupants.

Praxis was the closest to the camera, standing in front of a group of guards with his servos behind his backplates, looking professional and emotionless as he always did.

The guards behind Praxis were crowded around the center of the lift, where Extremis knew the Xel'Tor was. It was a completely secure perimeter, but it also blocked the Xel'Tor from the camera's view. They would have to spread out before he was visible.

The lift finished its descent to the floor, and Praxis stepped off as soon as it stopped, the guards immediately starting to move into a wider formation around the Xel'Tor and following after him.

Extremis watched as the guards moved in an ordered, precise fashion, silently pleased that his instructors had trained them as well as they had. But he stopped watching them when the Xel'Tor fully came into view, and almost dropped his cube of high-grade at his image.

The pure white mech realized, after a brief moment of studying the Xel'Tor to be sure, that he recognized the mech. Not his physical appearance, of course, but he recognized the Xel'Tor's posture, the way his royal cobalt optics analyzed everything around him almost instantly, how he refused to appear defeated, despite the fact he was surrounded on all sides. Extremis had seen those exact characteristics before, long before he created his organizaion. The chances of this being a coincidence, were literally incalculable.

"Nothing is simple," Extremis said to himself as Praxis led the Xel'Tor and his guards out of the camera's view. But, despite this revelation, it didn't change his goals. The Chaos Bringer was coming, and he wasn't sure where or when. They needed to be ready, and advanced technology was their only chance against the approaching battles. He needed to gain complete access to the Ancient complex, before it was too late for everyone.

No, the Xel'Tor's identity didn't change Extremis' goals. Merely... Complicated them.

Exremis raised his servo toward the energon dispenser, propelling his nearly empty cube through the air and inserting it beneath the dispenser. He needed another drink before Praxis arrived with the Xel'Tor.

* * *

><p>I looked around as Praxis led my guards and I through the halls of the complex. The path we were on led us by a number of laboratories, all conducting experiments I am certain Ratchet and Moonracer would have loved to be a part of. If this place <em>didn't<em> belong to such a mysterious group of Cybertronians, of course. Most of the experiments I saw were beyond my understanding of science, but I knew what some of them were.

One of the labs was testing a bulky suit of power armor, going by how the helm of the operator of the armor was tiny compared to his chassis, and he was clumsily walking into floating tables with parts covering their surfaces, or even bumping into the scientists around him, yelling instructions at him that I couldn't hear. That project was clearly in the early stages of development. But despite that, I would have bet a jour's high-grade that Arcee would have had a lot of fun with...

'Bad thought, moving on,' I thought as I looked away from the power armor testing. Couldn't think about her right now, couldn't let myself worry at all, even though I wanted to.

I looked into another lab and saw scientists studying objects made out of glowing white metal that pulsed with bright blue energy. Occasionally, a scientist would grab a tool next to him, or her, and scan the object in front of them, and the tool would then display an interactive hologram of what they scanned, which the scientist would then study intently. I had no idea what any of them were studying, but they definitely found it interesting. They probably didn't even notice us walk by.

Another lab was filled with slabs of black stone etched with white runes in an alien language, but also with crude drawings of creatures or beings on them as well. Scientists surrounded one of the larger slabs, and seemed to be studying one of the drawings extensively, as if trying to decipher its meaning. Seemed to me like they were learning the language of another race.

We continued walking through hallways, passing a number of more laboratories, and even some assembly lines for what looked like updated versions of the power crystals I recovered from the station with Springer and Jetfire, along with the weapons that used them.

As we passed one lab in particular, I came to a halt, causing the guard directly behind me to nudge me with his rifle, but I didn't budge, just kept staring into the lab.

Floating above the floor of the laboratory, with scientists gathered around it and using holographic tools to take readings, was a Delphic.

But it wasn't_ the_ Delphic, it seemed. It was much larger, about twice the size as the one back at the base I called home for the last sixteen jours. Its shape was also a bit more jagged. But it was also even brighter than the one on Earth, and it had a faint red color to it, unlike _the_ Delphic. Energy also seemed to crackle the air around it, making the scientists give it a respectable berth while they conducted their scans and experiments.

My processor went to two conversations I had on the station, and just after the station.

The first conversation I focused on was when Springer offered the theory of how maybe there were more Delphics in the universe, and the reason why the crystals we found on the station were Delphic-like was because their creators had found one and studied it.

And the second conversation that my CPU went to was when I was in the Pocket Universe and I asked the Primes if they created the Delphic. They said they hadn't, that they had only found it, and added to it, whatever that meant. They said nothing about there being more than one. But then again, I hadn't asked if there was more than one. I only asked if they created the Delphic at base, and hadn't mentioned Springer's theory of there being more than one. And the Primes had been tight-lipped my entire visit, they had no reason to give me more information than I requested.

Sneaky of them, frustrating and confusing to me.

I was pulled from my thoughts by Praxis addressing me without turning around, "Move, Xel'Tor. Extremis is waiting for your arrival." The guard behind me punctuated his statement by nudging me with his rifle again.

I turned my gaze away and followed Praxis' instruction, while also wondering who he was referring to. Guess I was going to find out soon.

Praxis continued down the hallway once he saw I was following, and the second Delphic quickly faded from view.

After another klick of walking, we reached a door with a pair of heavily armored guards standing on either side of it, battlemasks snapped over their faceplates.

One of them turned and pressed a holographic button behind him as soon as he saw Praxis, my guards, and I. The door opened silently, revealing a long hallway on the other side that led to another door.

"Guards, remain here," Praxis ordered after the door opened, his emotionless voice sounding commanding without changing tones.

My guards rested their rifles against their shoulder-joints, snapped clean salutes at exactly the same time, then stepped out of my way and stood at attention on either side of me.

'Who were they taking me to, if they didn't question Praxis about me being near this Extremis?' I thought. They had been surrounding me since I first onlined, to make sure I didn't try anything, I assume. And any good guard would protest about leaving their superiors alone with a prisoner they viewed as dangerous, as if I could do anything now, but that didn't matter. So why didn't they protest at me only being guarded by Praxis while in the presence of what was apparently their leader? Their actions, or lack thereof, didn't sit well with me.

Placing my thoughts to the side, I walked into the final hallway without Praxis telling me to, and the dark grey and red mech followed me, closing the first door behind us.

The only sounds that reached my audio receptors as we moved to the second door were the pedes of Praxis and I hitting the floor, making the trip seem longer and more ominous, in my CPU, anyway.

After what seemed like a long walk, when in fact it was only about a hundred meters, we reached the second door.

Praxis stepped up to the door and stood still. And a moment later, an orange, holographic panel appeared in front of him. He pressed his servo against it, and the panel went from orange to green.

"Enter," an incredibly deep, mechanical voice said from an unseen speaker, likely a security VI authorizing Praxis entry.

The panel vanished, and the door opened, letting me see the room beyond for the first time.

It was very large, but completely spartan. The floor was made of a smooth, black material, likely some type of metal, or perhaps an unknown kind of Marble. A giant window made up the entire far wall. It would have given a spectacular view of the jungle outside, but the second complex took up most of the view, due to its sheer size.

In the center of the room, with no less than two dozen holographic screens in front of him, a pure white mech sat in a chair held up by apparently nothing, likely supported by a gravity field.

"Welcome to my planet, Xel'Tor," the mech who could only be Extremis said in a blank tone, not turning to look at Praxis and I. His voice was impossibly deep and far more mechanical than any voice I had heard from a Cybertronian. It was probably either the result of an injury to his voice box, or a modification he had installed.

I remained silent as I stepped fully into the room, Praxis not far behind. I was not in a talkative mood, and wouldn't be until I knew for sure how Arcee was, whether she was online. And, even if he wasn't there, this mech was just as responsible for what happened to my spark as the drone who shot her.

The pure white mech focused on one display in particular, but I couldn't see what he was seeing. "Mystery surrounds you, Xel'Tor. No birth records from the Age of the Primes exist, and too many vorns have passed since your carrier last walked on Cybertron. But there are no other information sources that you possibly would appear in. No training records in the Autobot, Decepticon, or civilian databases. No purchase history on record in the databases of ancient Cybertronian corporations. No security footage of you entering or leaving any city under control of the Cybertronian race. Not even the Hall of Records can reveal anything about you, and at one point they recorded, logged, and stored all data on Cybertron, even something as minor as a comm-link conversation between courteds," he listed. "What shall we call you, since we do not know your true name, Xel'Tor?"

I didn't reply, silently filing away everything he said. His apparent access to so many databases was... Alarming. It made me wonder how he got access to them, and whether he had access for many vorns, or his access was recent.

"If you will not give us your name, then we shall continue calling you 'Xel'Tor' until you you decide to give us one," Extremis said, dismissing the display he had been focusing on and turning his attention to another.

Silence descended on the room. I could feel Praxis' optics on me, but he said nothing, just kept standing behind me, watching.

Extremis broke the silence, still keeping his gaze on the displays in front of him while sipping from a cube of energon. "You have questions," he said, a statement, not a question.

I had a number of them, but the only one that mattered was whether Arcee was alright. "Who are you?" I asked instead of voicing the question I actually wanted answered. This wasn't the time or place for worry, despite how anxious I was to find out her condition.

"Your statement can be interpreted in multiple manners, clarify," Extremis replied, still finding the data on his displays more interesting than me.

He almost sounded like an answering machine, just now. "What is the name of your faction, or organization?"

"We are the Paraions," Extremis responded, tapping one display and making it disappear, only to be replaced by another one with different data being displayed.

"Do you serve the Decepticons, or the Autobots?" I asked.

"We serve neither, and favor both," Extremis answered, finally looking away from his displays, standing up, and walking toward me. He was a massive mech, at least six feet taller than Megatron and even more broad. His pure white armor had sharp edges, and appeared thicker than the armor of any other mechs I had seen inside the complex, giving me the impression he was no stranger to war and battle. No weapons were visible on his chassis, but I highly doubted he was unarmed. And his optics were ruby red, and carried even less emotion than Praxis'.

"Then what is your cause?" I asked, struggling slightly to keep my composure. Extremis breathed power and control, intimidation and cold indifference. And he scared the slag out of me, even more so than Megatron.

"Progress, uncovering long-lost secrets, and preparation," Extremis replied as he stopped right in front me, only raising more questions with his answer.

I blinked at his unclear reply. "And what are you preparing for?"

"Many things," Extremis responded. "Your arrival chief among them, Xel'Tor."

And there we go, back to that word. Xel'Tor. "Why am I so important?"

Extremis looked at me for a moment, faceplate set in a neutral look that hadn't left his faceplate since I first saw him. "You do not know," he said, impossibly deep and mechanical voice carrying no emotion, yet somehow showing his mild surprise.

"No," I replied honestly. They already knew who my carrier was, were aware I essentially didn't exist anywhere, and knew I was the Xel'Tor. There wasn't a lot left that they didn't know about me.

Extremis didn't respond immediately, and walked back over to his chair. He pressed a digit against one display in front of his chair, and dragged it through the air, and it expanded in size until it was nearly as tall as he was, and twice as wide. The image on the display was one of me, at the exact moment Refit caused the Precursor Protocol to activate. He must have had cameras on the station that were still operational.

"You do not know what the Xel'Tor is, yet you have had contact with the personal ship of the Thirteen. Contact, which I believe, transferred knowledge to you regarding your status as the Xel'Tor," Extremis said.

If only he knew _what_ gave me knowledge of my status. "Contact does not mean knowledge, and knowledge does not mean understanding," I said, avoiding any possible mention of the Delphic. It seemed like Extremis believed I had only come into contact with the Infinite Reverence, and while that contact left me with a lot of questions, my connection with the Delphic raised just as many. It would likely be best if Extremis didn't know.

Extremis studied me, ruby red optics staring into my own. "Perhaps you are correct," he finally said, slowly walking back toward me. "Unless, of course, the knowledge required a cipher. A key, like encrypted files in a computer, or a Cybertronian's memory banks. And let us say this key contained two parts, one located on the personal ship of the Thirteen, and the other in an unknown location, in an unknown object." He stopped just in front of me, towering over me. "A location you have been to, and an object you have had contact with."

I stood there, shocked. How did he figure that out so quickly? Granted, he was wrong about me having a cipher, but he still figured out what he knew about what happened on the station wasn't the full picutre. "You're jumping to conclusions that are false," I said, trying to sound confused by what he said.

"And you are lying," Extremis stated factually, seeing straight through my attempt to brush off his suspicions. "You did not know what you were given by the vessel of the Thirteen because you had only one piece out of two. But now you understand, due to you coming into contact with the second."

Wait, he thinks I'm lying about understanding nothing about what happened on the station. Not good. "I don't understand anything about what the Xel'Tor is."

"You claim not to," Extremis said, then set a servo on the shoulder-joints of Praxis and I. "So allow me to..." My world suddenly warped around me, folding and stretching in ways I had no way to describe or make sense of. Light itself was misshapen, deformed, like it was too slow to keep up with the vortex around us. And before it seemed to even start, it was over, and our surroundings were completely different, from what I could see out of my peripheral vision. "Remind you."

I pulled my shoulder-joint from Extremis' grip and slowly backed away, staring at the pure white mech in shock, as well as fear, while he just stared right back.

Did... Did he just teleport us?! He just_ teleported_ us. As in used a space bridge to transport us to an entirely different location, only _without_ the actual _space bridge!_ Who the frag was this mech?! Only the Thirteen had the power to do that... Right?

I didn't get a chance to ponder that question, since I felt the floor give way beneath my pede as I went to take another step away from Extremis, which caused me to quickly pull my pede back and turn to look at where there should have been floor.

I was standing on the edge of a platform that wasn't made out of metal, crystals, or energy, but light itself, white light that felt more soild than anything I had ever touched. And we were inside what was undoubtedly the largest room I had ever seen.

It looked like a giant dome, no less than a thousand kilometers wide at its widest point at the bottom, and about five kilometers wide at the apex of its ceiling. Countless structures were all over the room, both on the room and the floor, but I had no idea what they could have been. Perhaps they were armories, or storage hangers, or archives, but I had no clue. Everything was made out of glowing white metal, light, or a combination of both, leading me to believe the Thirteen were the creators of this place.

The platform we were on was in the center of the great room, roughly one-hundred fifty kilometers away from the nearest wall, since we were at least fifty kilometers in the air, floating without any supports.

I looked behind me, back to Extremis and Praxis, and saw that the platform we were standing on was connected to a giant, glowing white sphere that pulsed with energy, almost like the metal I saw the scientists studying earlier, only with a much more... Dangerous air to the pulses. Runes in the language of the Primes covered the entire sphere, but faded and brightened at seemingly random times, espeically around a circular, vault-like door that was directly in front of me, and behind Extremis and Praxis.

Cybertronian scientists were all around the giant sphere, setting up an experiment with an automated machine, it seemed, while soldiers stood guard near them. Now why did they need to be here?

"Where did you take us?" I asked, covering my nervousness with interest as I watched one of the scientists brushed passed one of the soldiers on his way to a holographic computer.

"Not far. This is the Ancient complex you most certainly saw during your time on your shuttle. It is called the Master Registry and Seed Nexus," Extremis answered. "Many of my follows refer to it as the Archive, for short."

"What is it, exactly?" I asked.

"That, is unknown," the Paraions' leader replied as the scientists behind him interacted with the automated machine, and it transformed into a small hovering drone. A scientist immediately started running tests on it. For what purpose, I did not know.

"Then why did you bring me here?" I questioned as the mech scientist that went to the holographic computer started moving his servos over its keyboard, causing the drone to move forward and backwards with certain motions.

Extremis turned and looked at the scientists. "Watch," he said to me.

Since I already was watching the scientists, I complied with Extremis' request.

After the scientist tested the drone a few more times, he moved it toward the vault-like door, making the drone move in at a slow, non-threatening pace. It continued on smoothly, no changes in the height it hovered, or the direction it was going, or even its speed. Then it got within twenty meters of the sphere.

And it all went to hell.

A beam of of plasma, molten metal, light, energy, magma, I honestly didn't know _what_ the frag it was, lashed out from the sphere and hit the drone, and a blinding light caused me to turn the sensitivity of my optics down, while all sound seemed to be sucked out of the air for a brief moment, before returning in a deafening explosion.

The light and sound from the explosion faded, and I had my optics readjust to the light. The drone had, quite simply, ceased to exist. There was absolutely nothing in the place it had been, no ashes, scorch marks, or even smoke. It was just completely gone.

I did _not_ want to get in the way of whatever shot it.

Extremis looked back at me once the explosion died away. "Approximately eighty-six point four percent of all systems within the Master Registry and Seed Nexus are restricted exclusively to Xel'Tor access, thirteen of the remaining percent require either a Prime or the Xel'Tor to activate, and the remaining point six percent can be accessed freely by anyone, provided you do not attempt to force higher access," he said. "However, all restricted systems are guarded by security measures similar to the one you just wittnessed activating."

"Must make a lot of systems secure," I remarked.

"Be thankful the system did not find it necessary to deploy warrior drones," Extremis said seriously. "The security systems of this structure have claimed many lives over the vorns."

"What a shame," I said, hiding the fact that hearing some of Extremis' soldiers being offlined pleased me a bit. Serves them right for what happened to Arcee.

Bad thoughts, go away. Not the time.

Extremis looked at me for a brief moment, as if he heard the tone I was keeping hidden. "A way to reduce casualties, would be to open the door for us, Xel'Tor."

I looked at the sphere. They thought I knew how to open that? Well, they're going to get a surprise... "I don't know how to open the door."

"False," Extremis said. "You are the Xel'Tor, you are meant to open doors that otherwise would remain closed."

What part of, 'I don't know' does he not understand? "I. Don't. Know. What. I. _Am!_" I yelled in frustration, tired of the Paraions' leader assuming I knew something I did not.

Extremis stared at me, completely unaffected by the loud tone I used. "You truly do not know," he stated, as if hearing my statement for the first time.

I shook my helm negatively.

The Paraions' leader blinked at me once, expression unchanging. "Then let me inform you," he said. "You are the Xel'Tor, you are meant to open doors that otherwise would remain closed, for they do not open for anyone else. You are the Key to many Doors. And right now, there is a door that needs to be opened." He raised his servo out toward me, and the air between him and I distorted, as if it was being heated up, and the cuffs on my servos fell to the floor without anyone touching them. Another ability that I only saw being used by the Thirteen. "And you are the only one who can open it."

I said nothing, and didn't move at all. This mech, the leader of a faction that clearly did not care if the Autobots or Decepticons were destroyed, was asking for my help in furthering his own goals. He wanted to get in that door so badly, that he was willing to offline anyone in his way, going by how they tried to capture me. He was responsible, either intentionally or unintentionally, for what happened to Arcee, and I still didn't know if was she was even alive, and he was asking me to _help_ him?!

Not only no, but frag no.

"No," I said quietly, the word almost coming out as a growl.

Extremis reached his servo out toward me, and I found myself unable to move or resist as he picked me off the ground with his abilities and brought me right in front of his faceplate, his blank ruby red optics boring into my own. "It would be in your best interest, if you would help us, Xel'Tor," he said, tone unchanged from when he first spoke. "There are many things in the dark that we must fight, things that would spell the end of everything. Alone, we have little chance of success. But with you with us, we could accomplish more than you can currently imagine, and save more lives than have ever existed."

"If you really wanted that, you would have sided with the Autobots," I said.

"Their leader is not willing to make the decisions necessary to secure the safety of everything, and everyone. Sacrifices must be made in order to achieve victory. But those sacrifices will be minimal with your help," Extremis said, optics emotionless and blank, oblivious to how twisted he sounded. Victory was always the goal, but if you were willing to sacrifice others in order to achieve it, then what would that turn you into?

I glared into his optics, fighting the overwhelming urge to break contact. "How about you go to hell, instead?"

The Paraions' leader looked at me for a moment, almost sadly, then he released me from his abilities, where Praxis immediately recuffed me. "Praxis, buried deep within the Xel'Tor's processor, whether he is aware or not, lies the knowledge to open this door. Take him to the Hammer, and see to it that Scalpel acquires it." He then turned around and looked at the door, apparently finding it more worth his time than I was.

Praxis and another soldier started dragging me away after Extremis spoke, moving toward a light bridge that appeared on the platform as they moved.

I stared at Extremis' backplates, silently pleased he wasn't getting to whatever was behind the door. And I had this strange feeling that I made the right decision in keeping him out of the sphere, almost like an unseen bot's approval. It felt good.

I just hoped they didn't find whatever they wanted from me.

* * *

><p><strong>As you no-doubt saw, there's a lot more I have planned with Fate Calls, and let me say there are tons of plot elements that have yet to see the light of day. And I am really looking forward to writing them.<strong>

**I am hoping to get the next chapter in this month, but it is unlikely I will, because every time I try and do that, I get myself stuck due to wanting to get it done so much. Lol. But who knows, maybe this time will be different.**

**This chapter's credit song is "Nine Lashes - Anthem of the Lonely" This song is one of my personal favorites. It has an epic beginning, an awesome middle, and is just incredible overall. One of my favorites, and it fits really well with the ending of this chapter. So I recommend listening to this one.**

**Please be sure to leave a review to let me know what you think. I take all reviews seriously, besides just flames, and do my best to make sure I answer questions as fast as possible.**

**Thank you all very much for taking the time to read, and I will see you soon.**


	34. Prison

**Yay! Two updates in the same month! :D**

**Alright, so not a lot to say up here, other than the fact that I have started my original novel. Don't have a lot of material on it yet, but I am going to be working on it a lot more once this story ark is complete.**

**Also, I totally forgot to acknowledge the fact that Fate Calls is over 200 reviews! I feel so stupid! Haha. So to all who have been reading this story, thank you so much, and here's a cookie! *Gives cookies to fans***

**And thank you for reviewing, favoriting, or adding this story to the ones you follow. I really can't put it into words how much it means to see people actually interested enough in Fate Calls to leave feedback and keep coming back. :)**

****Guest - Thank you. Hope you enjoy what else I have planned. :)****

**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.**

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><p><strong>June 2, 2013 11:27 P.M<strong>

**Prisoner ship Hammer, interrogation cell**

I was kneeling on the floor of a cell, with my servos still cuffed, while four guards surrounded me, with six others held back near the walls, their rifles held casually yet also at the ready.

I had been taken to another shuttle after basically telling Extremis to go frag himself, and we had traveled for more than two breems before we reached a massive, dark red gas giant further out into the system. It had to have been as large as Cybertron, though maybe slightly smaller. The Paraions were using the gas giant for collecting Hydrogen and Helium, and converting it into fuel, judging by the fueling stations I had seen, along with scores of vessels docked with them. Another use the Paraions had for the giant was production of antimatter, if the particle accelerator that I saw encircling the entire planet like a great ring was being used like I suspected.

The Paraions were also using the gas giant as a prison, or at least using some of the ships in orbit as prisons, like the ship I had been transported to.

The Hammer, as Extremis had called it, was a large ship, three point seven kilometers long, from what I overheard from a guard. It once belonged to an organic race called the Na'tier, but had changed owners when the Paraions caught it scouting the outskirts of their territory, and captured and retrofitted it for their uses. It also was lightly armed, according to the standards of the Paraions. It had only one main cannon, a moderate number of anti-fighter and missile defense batteries for a vessel of its size, and only a total of sixty broadside cannons. Of course, all of its weapons were made by the Paraions, so even though it was lightly armed for its size, it could more than likely go up against a pair of Autobot ships twice its size and come out on top. Didn't bode well for us.

But fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on whether you wanted to think about the massive fleet surrounding Ventqura Munitum, the Hammer was used primarily as a prison ship, so the chances of it seeing battle against my comrades was slim to none. Hundreds if not thousands of bots were imprisoned here. And I had seen members of both factions when I arrived, all held in cells just like the one I was in. At least I wasn't alone.

My thoughts were broken by the sound of the door of my cell opening, and I looked up at who was entering the room.

It was a white mech. His armor was not pure white like Extremis', though. It was dirty, scratched, and had patches of crystallized energon covering it, leading me to believe he was no stranger to... Unpleasant interrogations. He was about Prowl's height, but very, very thin. If my servos were free, I might have been able to snap him in half. That was how thin he was. His optics were dull orange in color, and carried an intelligent, uncaring look, as well as something else that didn't quite seem right. Not what you wanted to see in the optics of an interrogator.

The mech looked me up and down once, then focused on my optics. "So, you are ze Xel'Tor," he said with a smile, voice carrying a slight accent I had never heard from someone speaking the language of Cybertron. It almost sounded German. "I was expecting you to be... Taller."

That was an ironic statement, coming from someone shorter than I was, but I didn't comment on it and stayed silent.

"Not one for jokes? That is fine. I am not overly fond of them myself. I only use them to lighten the mood!" The mech said in an overly chipper voice, as if he was a comedian laughing off a bad joke. He walked over to a wall while he pressed a button on his servo, causing a holographic terminal to appear at the wall. He then started typing at the terminal. "I like to know ze names of my patients, Xel'Tor, so what is yours?"

I said nothing in response. This was my interrogator, Scalpel, going by the last thing Extremis said, pleasantries didn't apply here. I had to say, this Scalpel reminded me a lot of the annoying little spider from Revenge of the Fallen, except not a spider, and possibly a bit insane, as well. Maybe this mech was this reality's version of him.

The mech glanced at me from his terminal. "Ah. You are trying to be ze silent type. Those are always ze most stubborn." He went back to looking at his terminal. "No matter. I do not need you to talk to... Well, talk. Allow me to introduce myself, Xel'Tor. My name is Scalpel, and I will be your interrogator for ze time being, and we're going to have so much_ fun!_ Do you have any questions?"

I just stared at Scalpel in response.

"Good! Because I wasn't going to answer any questions in ze first place!" My interrogator said when I didn't reply. "Let's begin!" He finished typing on his terminal, and a metal table floated down from the ceiling, its surface covered in a number of tools that looked like they were designed for... Less than pleasant uses.

Scalpel browsed through them, smiling happily as he went through the tools. "Neural inhibitor? No, that's not it. Moleculon knife? Not it, but maybe save that for later. Plasma torch? Nope, not ze right one, either. Ah-ha!" He picked up a grey and purple cable from the table, and looked at me. "This is a Cortical psychic patch. Technology ze Decepticon scientist Shockwave developed during ze war. We stole its blueprints and developed our own version. And it's so much better! We don't even have to hook up another Cybertronian to ze other end of the cable, we can just hook one end to your CPU, and attach ze other to a computer, and ta-da! Instant source of information on a device that stores and displays it in a very clear and ordered manner! Isn't that _exciting?!_"

I kept my mouth shut. He was talking about going through my memories, my _life_, like he was a sparkling who just got a new toy. He wasn't a bit insane, he was _totally_ insane. Fantastic.

Scalpel pouted, literally pouted, when I didn't say anything. "Aww! You're no fun. Oh, well. At least I get to have fun!" He walked over to me and put one end of the cable against my helm, and I soon felt scores of tiny little wires gripping my armor, constantly zapping me as they attached. It felt like someone was stabbing me with hot needles over and over again.

"And now to connect ze other end!" Scalpel cheered, then walked back to the table and grabbed the other end of the cable, then connected it to a port in the wall next to the terminal. He looked at me again, optics shining with giddiness while his digit hovered over button on his holographic terminal. "Ready? No? Good!" He pressed the button with that.

Pain. Pain was the only thing I felt. Having my memories forcibly copied and removed from my helm, then displayed in front of me was an indescribable feeling, and more painful and violating than anything I had ever experienced. Those were _my_ memories, _my_ experiences, and they were _not_ for the taking.

But it wasn't just my memories that flashed in my vision. Green light, and images similar to the ones I saw on the station were there as well, mixed and intertwined with my memories of time I spent with Arcee, or my fellow Autobots.

After what felt like an eternity, the pain ended, and I had to put my cuffed servos out in front of me to prevent myself from falling on my faceplate.

'Well, that was... Fragging awful, and also still going,' I thought, blinking as images and green light continued flashing across my vision, less intense than when the patch was active, but still able to make it hard to see. What was I seeing, anyway? Blueprints? Still images? Memories?

I glared up at Scalpel, who was looking at the images and light I had just seen, and was still seeing, with excitement and giddiness. He was having fun doing this. Fun, like this was a game. He was a sick bastard, like Clancy had been. For a moment, I wondered what it could take to wipe that twisted grin off his faceplate.

My interrogator suddenly frowned, interrupting my thought. He glanced at me, then back to the screen of his terminal. "This cannot be it... It's not where it should be," he said, mostly to himself.

"What? Didn't find what you were looking for? How tragic," I said sarcastically, unable to keep a small smile from forming on my faceplate. They wanted something from me so badly, and after sucking memories and files from my helm, what they were looking for wasn't there. I found that to be humorous.

"Quiet, you," Scalpel said, lacking the giddy tone from earlier as he looked at the screen.

"Nah, I don't feel like it. I mean, you did just make copies of my memories, so I really don't have a reason to care about what you want," I said, taunting Scalpel by sounding like I was making pleasant conversation with one of my fellow Autobots, even though I hated him. "Now, if you were to give me a washrack, some high-grade, and maybe a gun or tw-"

Electricity abruptly started coursing through my frame, causing me to shut up in an instant as I focused on dealing with the new wave of pain.

As quickly as it appeared, the electricity vanished, and I saw Scalpel glaring at me from his terminal, one servo holding a device that looked like a switch. "I said, quiet," the interrogator commanded with an angry tone, annoyance clear on his faceplate.

"Why? Do I annoy you? Good," I said, enjoying taunting Scalpel by using part of one of his lines on him. Probably not the most intelligent thing to do with your interrogator, but I didn't care at the moment. I still didn't know Arcee's condition, and that was all that was important to me.

Scalpel huffed at me, then flipped the switch in his servo, sending another wave of electricity coursing through my frame.

After a few micro-klicks, the electricity stopped, and Scalpel handed the switch off to a guard. "I must speak with Extremis and Praxis, use this whenever ze Xel'Tor acts up," he instructed, then walked out of the door of the cell, leaving me alone with the guards, and the lingering flashes of images and green light.

I get the feeling this was going to happen a lot.

* * *

><p>"His processor is a mess," Scalpel said to the holograms of Extremis and Praxis, who were using QECs from different locations, one in Extremis' sanctuary, and the other onboard the Omnipotence, the capital ship of the fleet.<p>

_"Explain, Doctor,"_ Extremis' hologram instructed blankly, his holographic pedes crossed over one another.

"It is a mess! Whatever ze ship of ze Thirteen, or ze other object, gave him has scrambled his CPU like an earthquake shakes the ground," Scalpel replied. "His memory banks are filled with information and data, but it has been thrown into ze same place. And too much data in one place creates messes, and ze Xel'Tor's CPU is messier than my best interrogations!"

Extremis' hologram sipped from the cube of energon in his servo. _"Can you sort through the data in his processor?"_

Scalpel scoffed, his less than sane CPU overriding the logical decision of not insulting or being sarcastic to Extremis. "Do you know how much information there is to sort thought? Ze average Cybertronian CPU contains centi-vorns of totally meaningless and random video files, and it would take just as long to analyze all of them," he said in a slightly condescending tone, typical of many scientists, though not typically a way a member of the Paraions spoke to their leader. "But that's not all! Because of ze information ze Xel'Tor was given, his memories are completely and _totally_ indistinguishable from ze data, meaning we have to analyze both his memories, _and_ ze data he was given! Not only _that,_ but ze data is not even complete! There are breaks, gaps in ze information, which I cannot find a cause for. So you tell me, Extremis, can we sort through ze data? Can we? CAN WE?!"

The hologram of the Paraions' leader regarded Scalpel flatly. _"Doctor, I will say this once. Do not assume you are smarter, and more entitled to respect, than I am. Remember that you are not the first chief interrogator in the ranks of my followers, and I can easily find another to take your place,"_ he said, voice like ice despite the fact his tone was unchanged. _"Keep your pride locked away with your insanity when you are speaking to me. Am I understood?"_

Scalpel's haughty attitude vanished in an instant, and he had to suppress a shudder at his leader's words. "Yes, sir," he said, no trace of his earlier tone, or his slight break in coherent speech. He would have to see a medic about getting a larger dose of medication.

_"A wise decision, Doctor,"_ Extremis said. _"Now, explain what you mean by the information inside the Xel'Tor's processor being incomplete."_

The interrogator gave the smallest of shrugs, not trying to inadvertently get himself on Extremis' almost infinitely patient nerves. _Almost _infinitely patient. "I honestly do not know what to think of it. Along with ze fact ze Xel'Tor's processor is a mess, ze data he received is fragmented like I previously stated. One portion of an image is clear, and the next is not. One blueprint is as it should be, but ze following one is so distorted it cannot be read. And from what I can tell, all ze information I recovered from ze Xel'Tor's CPU is like this. It is as if we, or he, are missing key pieces of ze puzzle, and without them, ze puzzle cannot be understood."

_"If you are correct, Doctor, then how many pieces of this puzzle is the Xel'Tor missing?"_ Extremis asked, not at all reacting to the news that the Xel'Tor may not be as useful as he expected.

A mech completely separated from emotion, that one. "Without knowing how much information came from ze ship of ze Thirteen, and how much came from ze other object, it is impossible to know for certain. Two would be my best guess, but with information like this, that number could increase or decrease."

Extremis' hologram kept its gaze on Scalpel for a moment, then looked at Praxis' hologram. _"You have analyzed the Doctor's report more thoroughly than I have, do your own findings support Chief Scalpel's?"_

_"They do, sir,"_ Praxis replied simply.

With Scalpel's report backed by his SIC, Extremis' hologram looked back at his chief interrogator. _"Then there is no alternative. Doctor, continue analyzing the contents of the Xel'Tor's processor, and update the data with repeated Cortical psychic patch sessions. There is a chance the Xel'Tor may be able to organize the information by himself."_

Scalpel's optics lit up, and the dark part of his CPU was immediately interested. "How often should I perform ze procedure, sir?" He asked, excitement obvious in his voice.

_"As many times as you deem necessary,"_ Extremis answered blankly, then deactivated his end of the QEC, his SIC following his example shortly after.

After his commander's cut their ends of the QEC, Scalpel smiled in giddiness and walked out of the communications room, almost bouncing in excitement.

He was going to have_ fun!_

* * *

><p>I looked up at the sound of the door opening again, and Scalpel stepped inside the cell, a sickening grin plastered on his faceplate, and a look of... Wrong in his optics. This couldn't be good.<p>

My interrogator picked the cable of the Cortical psychic patch off the floor, having been removed from the terminal by one of the guards after Scalpel had left the cell, and smiled at me. "Who's up for round two? And maybe a round three and four after?!"

Well, this was going to suck...

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><p><strong>June 24, 2013 4:19 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

Since she onlined, Arcee had done everything she could to recover from her injury as quickly as possible. Sneak out of the med-bay to slowly get her strength back, mix medicine in with her cubes of energon, both low-grade and high-grade, ask Moonracer or Ratchet to give her regular doses of nanite-enhancing gel. She had done it all.

And she succeeded, too. She was officially released from the med-bay more than a jour sooner than expected. Fully fit for duty.

Just in time for Shadow's memorial.

Rain fell in heavy, constant sheets. But no thunder cracked the air, or lightning flash in the clouds. It was just a steady downpour. It was as if the sky itself was mourning, weeping at the scene beneath it.

Arcee stood in a perfect 'at attention' stance. Servos flat against her sides, pedes together, not at their usual distance from one another, shoulder-joints in, chestplates out, optics forward-facing and blank, and faceplate devoid of emotion. Although, she didn't have to even try to achieve those last two.

Her fellow Autobots stood in the exact same stance Arcee was, standing at a precise distance from one another, totally motionless.

The back rank was made up, from left to right, by Smokescreen, the twins, Springer, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Flareup, Ironhide, and Moonracer.

The front rank was made up, from right to left, by Ratchet, Jetfire, Chromia, Jazz, Elita, Prowl, Optimus, and Arcee herself, with an empty space next to her, symbolizing the one they lost, Shadow'.

The children, Agent Fowler, and June were there, too, dressed in more formal clothes than they normally wore, at least in the case of June and the children, Fowler already wore a suit wherever he went. They all had umbrellas out, and were doing what they could to keep their formal wear out of the rain.

Across from Arcee and her fellow Autobots, stood the entirety of Shadow Company, along with one soldier who was not a part of the elite unit. All were dressed in the Service Dress Uniforms of their respective branches and militaries, not paying any attention to the pouring rain. They were all standing at ease, feet shoulder-width apart, hands behind their backs, eyes forward. The S.T.F 141 soldiers stood in seven ranks of twenty, and had seven members standing in a line off to their left, rifles with stocks made of dark wood planted at their sides, while Master Sergeant Epps stood behind them. The two commanding officers, Colonel Lennox and Captain MacTavish, stood at ease on the opposite side.

General Shepherd himself was there as well, standing at the side of Lennox and MacTavish, wearing his own Service Dress Uniform, the Service Ribbons, Military Badges, and Metals strapped to his uniform almost making it seem like a piece of armor was attached to his breast.

When the news of Shadow's offlining had reached the rest of the S.T.F through Lennox, MacTavish, and Epps, General Shepherd had contacted base, asked what happened, gone silent for one moment when his question was answered, then offered to give Shadowstreaker full military honors, whenever his memorial took place. It was, officially, for the service he rendered for not just the S.T.F on occasion, but for how he helped to keep Earth safe from the Decepticons while with Team Prime. But unofficially, it was to let several of his men say goodbye to a friend they had made within the Autobots, and to let Optimus know that while many within his government only saw them as tools or machines, Shepherd held them all in the highest honor, and treated one of their losses as one of his own.

The human general suddenly stepped out from beside Lennox and MacTavish in precise, ordered steps, each one arrow straight and the exact same distance between them, and turned on his heel in a practiced motion that let him face Shadow's memorial, a simple pile of smooth rocks like Cliffjumper's, which was located right next to it, while at the same time letting the general be able to see all of Shadow Company out of his peripheral vision.

"Atten-_TION!_" Shepherd bellowed, and the soldiers of Shadow Company instantly stood at attention, in almost the exact same stance that Arcee and her fellow Autobots stood in. "Present, _ARMS!_" The S.T.F soldiers followed the command of their leader by snapping a crisp, synchronized salute, and the other soldiers in a line outside the main rank picked the stocks of their rifles off the ground and held them in an odd grip that had them holding their weapons in front of them, with the barrels pointed at the sky.

All was silent, save the water falling from the sky, until Sergeant Epps directed the seven men in front of him, "Atten-tion. Standby, ready," he said, voice softer than General Shepherd's bellows, and the men in front of him shifted position again, now standing with their legs at a forty-five degree angle, their rifles across their chests.

Sergeant Epps went on, "Ready." The soldiers flipped the safeties of their rifles off. "Aim." They readied their weapons by aiming them at an angle that would take their shots over the memorial of Shadow'. "Fire." Seven gunshots rang out, cutting through the relative silence and echoing off the walls of the mountains around the base.

The Master Sergeant repeated those three words twice more, then he repeated an earlier order, "Atten-tion."

The seven armed soldiers returned to their previous position, standing with their rifles held in front of them, barrels pointed at the sky.

The one soldier who was not part of Shadow Company put some type of brass horn to his lips after the seven other men finished their volleys, and started to play a tune from it.

It was a simple tune, yet powerful and moving, haunting and solem, which was only amplified by the downpour. To Arcee, it was as if the simple tune spoke for the fallen, both in human battle, and the war for Cybertron. It spoke of all the lives that had been lost in this war. Of the countless friends she had to say farewell to far too early. Of the partners she had failed, Tailgate, Cliffjumper... And Shadow', _her_ Shadow'. It made her want to strengthen her walls even more than they already were, but three nudges from the bonds she shared with her sisters and Ironhide kept her from doing so.

In just over one klick, the soldier finished his tune. In one smooth motion, he tucked his horn against his side, and saluted Shadow's memorial. He stayed in that position for several micro-klicks, then slowly let his hand lower to his side.

General Shepherd turned on his heel, causing him to face the Autobots. "Forward, _MARCH!_" He ordered, and as one, every human soldier present began marching toward the Autobots, completely in sync with each other.

After they had taken seven steps forward, Shepherd bellowed again, "Left, _FACE!_" And every soldier turned on their heels, now facing the general direction of the elevator, and continued marching on. And continued to do so until they were near the elevator, and Shepherd ordered them to turn right and into it. Then they vanished, their respects having been payed.

After the S.T.F soldiers left, Jack looked down at his girlfriend, who had her arm looped through his. "Come on, Miko, let's go pay our respects," he said in a calm voice, having already grieved for his friend, and now taking up his unofficial role as the leader of the three teens, and appearing strong.

The Japanese girl nodded her head mutely and began walking forward with her boyfriend. She had taken her hair out of her signature braid and twin pigtails, letting her hair out to its full length, which was almost down to her hips. She also was uncharacteristically serious. Perhaps hearing Shadow' had been offlined had popped the bubble in her own little world that said the Autobots were invincible.

The young human couple approached Shadow's memorial, and they both placed a white pinkish flower on the lower stones, then walked toward the elevator arm in arm, speaking in quiet voices that Arcee could hear, but tuned out.

Raf was next, and he placed another flower on the memorial, before walking in the direction of Jack and Miko with his head lowered slightly. Arcee knew Shadow' had been the first friend he'd lost, and it was still affecting him.

June placed a pure white flower on the memorial. Arcee had heard that to some humans, certain flowers held different meanings at funerals, but she didn't understand what each flower meant.

Jack's mother whispered something that sounded like, 'Thank you' to Shadow's memorial, but Arcee was still tuning out the world around her, and didn't know for certain if that was what she said. She went to follow the children to the elevator.

Agent Fowler was the last human to pay his respects, and he kept it simple. He saluted, crispy and with the best posture he could manage while holding an umbrella with one hand. "Find peace, wherever you are, son," he said, loud enough to be heard, but not enough to be disrespectful. He turned and walked in the footsteps of the other humans, leaving the Autobots alone.

Now, it was the Autobots' turn.

In the time before the war, the old Cybertronian military had many traditions and ceremonies related to the passing of a soldier, both on and off the battlefield, with many bearing similarities to the traditions of human funerals, it seemed. Most of those traditions and customs had been taken by the war, or by the necessity of focusing on the living, instead of giving every offlined a lengthy funeral.

But, the Autobots refused to give up one tradition, unlike the Decepticons, who scrapped their offlined for parts. And that was the Final Parting, an ancient tradition that dated back to the Golden Age, or perhaps longer, records from before didn't exist. It involved every bot in the unit of the offlined Autobot going up to their memorial, saluting, reciting the Final Parting, and walking away. The order in which each femme or mech went up to the memorial started with the lowest-ranking bot, and then ascended ranks until it came to the CO. The offlined bot's partner, however, always went last out of tradition, to allow them an extended goodbye, if they wished.

'As if that made losing a partner easier to go through,' Arcee thought.

Smokescreen, being the lowest-ranking Autobot present, stepped back walked behind his rank and toward Shadow's memorial, using the training drilled into him at Basic. Each step straight and exacted, turning on his heel whenever he needed to change direction, door-wings twitching as little as possible.

The white and blue mech reached Shadow's memorial in a few short micro-klicks, looked down a little at the memorial, and brought his right fist against his chestplates, just above his spark, the formal salute of both the Autobots and Decepticons. **"I am sorry, war-brother, for you left this life before we could rebuild Cybertron together. I am sorry, war-brother, for I failed in protecting you as your war-brother, while you succeeded in protecting me, for I stand here now. I am sorry, war-brother, for we will remain apart until the cycle Primus deems my time to join Him. Farewell, war-brother, may your time among the Sparks of All be peaceful, and may this be the final time we part. 'Till All Are One,"** he said in the language of Cybertron, reciting the Final Parting, modified by the Autobots to suit the fallen in the war for their home world.

With his part said, Smokescreen turned on his heel and walked away from Shadow's memorial, and into the elevator, still keeping his steps precise, and turning on his heel when necessary.

One by one, the other Autobots walked to Shadowstreaker's memorial, saluted, and recited the Final Parting, and then left. The twins had gone after Smokescreen, then Springer, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Flareup, Ironhide, Moonracer, Ratchet, Jetfire, Chromia, Jazz, Elita, Prowl, and then Optimus, making Arcee the only one remaining on top of the base.

The blue and pink femme stood there for more than a klick, before finally bringing herself to step toward her partner's memorial, Shadow's Ion Displacer clanging against her backplates and flattened wings. She had been given a lot of free time recently, and had taken great care in repairing both Shadow's Nucleon and his Ion Displacer, picking the replacement parts carefully, and making sure the repairs were seamless. It was what he would have done, and she wanted to make sure his favorite weapons were exactly the way he had last used them.

Of, course, she couldn't use them herself, they were too bulky for her to use them effectively in the field, and they weighed her down. It had only been a kind of therapy for her, repairing the weapons of her partner, though it did little to heal the void in her spark. She just hoped that in the next life, Shadow' appreciated the sentiment behind her repairs.

Arcee reached Shadow's memorial, and crouched down next to it, foregoing protocol and tradition for the time being. This was different than the other memorials Arcee had been present for. For Tailgate's, she had followed protocol like a machine, still recovering from how she watched him be executed. For Cliff's, she had gone through the motions numbly during his memorial the night he was offlined.

But this... This was different. She didn't want to follow protocol with this one, didn't want to part with such a generic farewell. It just didn't... Feel right in her spark, and now, she was going to push her training aside so her spark would drive her actions.

"Hey, Shadow'," she said to the memorial, voice coming out as a blank whisper. She didn't know why she started talking, but that was part of letting her spark drive her. "Been a long time since we talked, for... Obvious reasons."

She received no response from her partner's memorial, just silence.

Arcee sighed quietly. This was already feeling awkward. She was tempted to just go with tradition, but she pushed her thoughts aside, and continued letting her spark direct her. "I would have been up here sooner, but I was still in the med-bay," she said. "Almost getting shot through the spark slows recovery times, but I worked hard to get out as quickly as I could. Ratchet's a nightmare whenever you try to walk after being seriously injured. You know, I don't know how you managed to keep your sanity with all the time you spent in there." The blue and pink femme chuckled lightly at her joke, faintly thinking that it was sad that the first time she had laughed since onlining in the med-bay was during a fake conversation with her deceased partner. "And come to think of it, I don't know how you managed to get injured so much. After all, you were strong, had constant access to two heavy weapons, and had the strongest armor out of all of us. That would have prevented injuries, right?"

Her partner's memorial, obviously, remained silent, though Arcee imagined Shadow', _her_ Shadow', saying something about how his size, armor, and arsenal of weapons only made him a priority target in the optics of the Decepticons, and joke that it was that or he had a targeted painted on his chestplates since he became a Cybertronian and wasn't aware of it.

Arcee smiled and chuckled again, then let her smile falter. "Guess you don't need to worry about injuries anymore, huh?"

The sound of the rain hitting the ground and impacting her frame was the only response she received.

"You and I, we had some good times, didn't we? Made some great memories together," the blue and pink femme went on. "Like when we were taking care of Wildwing, or how we inadvertently started Jack and Miko's relationship." She chuckled lightly, hollowly. "Not going to have anymore of those, will we?"

No reply came from the memorial.

Arcee reached behind her and pulled Shadow's Ion Displacer from her backplates. "Here, partner, thought you'd like to have this back. It's in better shape than you left it, but I've had a lot of time on my servos, so I figured I'd repair it for you... Seeing as you can't do it." She placed the rotary cannon on the ground, leaning it against the memorial. "I hope you find a use for it in the afterlife."

With her farewells said, Arcee should have wanted to stand, to get on with tradition, but she found that she didn't. She was unable, and unwilling, to move. It was if something inside her was screaming at her to stay, to not leave Shadow's memorial. Maybe it was because she had yet to say goodbye... Or maybe it was because she hadn't gotten everything off her chestplates.

Arcee leaned forward slowly, until her forehelm touched the cool, wet stones of the memorial. "And wherever you are, partner... Know that I loved you, with everything that I was. And that my feelings will never change, until I, too, am called Home."

She stayed in that position for a long time, until she finally stood to her full height, saluted, and recited the Final Parting. When she finished the ancient farewell, she added, "Goodbye... My Shadow'." She turned on her heel and walked toward the elevator with that, reinforcing her walls so her emotions had no chance of getting the better of her.

Getting in the elevator and the ride down was mostly a blur to Arcee, but when the lift reached ground level, she turned left, heading directly for her quarters. She needed seclusion.

After a short walk, she reached her quarters. But, when she went to enter her password, she paused, and felt the impulse to look across the hall, to her partner's old quarters. She had the password to get inside, given to her by Optimus that morning, who, as Prime, had a backup of every password in case an Autobot was felled in battle. Like Shadow'.

She debated about whether or not to go into Shadow's old quarters for a moment, CPU arguing that going into her deceased partner's quarters would only hurt her, while her spark urged her to enter his former living quarters.

Her spark quickly won the debate.

Arcee turned around, typed her partner's password into the control panel, and stepped inside and closed the door behind her. And for the first time, Arcee realized, she was standing on her partner's quarters.

They were larger than hers, though not by much. There were shelves on either side of the room, holding a few data pads, but mostly items that were clearly souvenirs from missions.

The collection was far smaller than Arcee's, but there were still a considerable number of objects, many of which she had seen Shadow' sub-space in the field.

Shadow' had his desk in the same area Arcee had place her own, though his berth was straight ahead unlike her own, and his workbench was cleaner, more ordered. The entire room was like that, in fact. Everything had its appointed place, and it always returned there when it was not in use. It suited her partner's personality.

Arcee went to the desk and sat down, noting how it was built for a bot much larger than her, but not caring. She looked at everything in the room, silently wondering why her spark directed her here in the first place.

There wasn't anything in here that the Autobots needed, since Optimus had removed the Energon Harvester while Arcee was still in the med-bay, just in case it was needed and they required quick access to it. Nothing in the room was valuable per-se, it was mostly junk Shadow' took as reminders of missions, with some weapons or mods thrown in the mix. So why did her spark urge her to come in here?

Could it just be because she hadn't seen her partner's quarters before this, and her spark wanted to see what it looked like before she cleaned it out? No, that made no logical sense. She wasn't planning on cleaning it out for a few solar-cycles at least, and she would see a lot of this room while doing that. Perhaps her spark just wanted her to sit down for a while. But, again, that made no sense. She could have sat down in her own quarters if that was the case. Her spark must have brought guided her to this room for a reason. But what?

She looked around, trying to find an answer in the souvenirs on the shelves. But after several micro-klicks of searching, she found none. They did, however, remind her of many missions the two of them had been on together. The Antarctic, the Amazon, Colorado to recover the Delphic, countless skirmishes and energon recovery missions, and when they had been Wildwing's temporary care-taker-

The thought of their shared responsibility as the temporary care-taker of Wildwing brought up her memory files of when the sparking had crashed to Earth, and how Shadow' had acted after the sparkling's pod had almost crushed them.

He had risen from the ground rather quickly, and looked slightly alarmed, even embarrassed, at the position they had fallen into, with both of them lying on the ground, looking at the crashed escape pod while one of his servos was wrapped around her tank.

Arcee had understood why he had been alarmed, since the position they had been in was an intimate one, and all he had done was push the two of them out of the way of the crashing pod. But now she wondered why he had been embarrassed at the time. He had, after all, been distracted by Wildwing's arrival, and hadn't realized his servo had been around her tank until after the dust settled down a bit. Why had that been embarrassing to him?

Another memory file came forward, one of when her partner accidentally saw her in the washrack before they constructed a washrack for the femmes and the mechs. He had been very awkward at that time, which was perfectly understandable, given the situation, and the unspoken threat Arcee had given him. Now she was noticing that he had been affected for longer than he should have. It had clearly been an accident, and one he had been respectful of after the initial… Sighting. Why did an accident affect him so much?

A new memory file replaced the one of the… Incident. It was when Shadow' had come into her quarters to check up on her after her first encounter with Airachind in centi-vorns, and had ended up comforting her when she explained what happened to Tailgate. They had come close to kissing at that time, having both chosen to look at the other at the exact same time. Both of them had become frozen, unable to move for a moment, before Shadow' had practically jumped off the berth, uttered a few stuttered words, stood there in silence for a micro-klick, then said an awkward farewell and left. Part of Arcee had understood why he had been so awkward at the time, considering the position they had been in, but another part of her had been curious as to why he had been that awkward. Pulling back his helm and apologizing for the near-contact would have sufficed. Now, that curious part of Arcee was back to thinking about why he had reacted in the manner he had.

Yet another memory file appeared, this one of when her partner gave his Revolutionary war musket to her as her creation day present. It had taken him a mega-cycle to clean, polish, and restore the old human weapon. He put a lot of work into it, and he had given it to her without a second thought, just handed it to her with a smile. Her spark pulsed once, sadly, at the thought of how she never had the chance to give him the old Hoplite Armor she had found buried in the dirt on an energon scouting mission to Greece, something she was hoping he would have liked as much as she had liked the musket. But, that thought was quickly replaced, and she pondered why he had bothered to give her a gift like that, instead of trying to find something else she would have liked which wouldn't have taken so much work.

Another memory file appeared, this one had occurred on the cycle Shadow' had first onlined after Megatron shot him, after the others had left the med-bay. They had talked seriously for a short time, with Arcee informing her partner' of how she didn't know how losing a third partner would affect her, how right she had been at the time. Shadow' had helped reassure her then, and also given a really cliche speech, which they both took note of. But what she was just now noticing, was that while they had been talking about less serious matters, their servos had gripped each other without either of them trying or noticing, and neither of them tried to break the contact, or even thought anything of it when they parted a few breems later. Why hadn't either of them addressed that?

A final memory file appeared, this last one occurring just before they left on the mission that led to Shadow's offlining. He had walked up to her with a purpose in his steps, greeted her formally, something he never did, then fallen silent for a long time, looking like he was trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he had addressed her again, and tried to say something else, but was cut off by the forged message arriving. What had he tried to say? It started with an 'L,' she knew that much, then it sounded like an 'O' followed it, but wha-

The sudden realization hit Arcee hard enough that she didn't react, or feel, an electric shock course through her frame, starting from her spark, felt like it was being pulled by an invisible force. She didn't notice, and only focused on what she just figured out.

Shadow' had loved her, like she loved him.

Had Arcee not already been virtually numb to the world, she would have gone numb. Her partner had loved her, and she had been too dense to realize it until after he was gone, after they had their chance for happiness.

The signs had been there all along. How he became very awkward or embarrassed when around her, when he never became that way when he wasn't near her. How he stood up for her when she wasn't present, like when Springer was insulting her behind her backplates back before he changed, which she still was getting used to. How he went out of his way to make sure she was safe. How he reacted to seeing her captured by MECH in one of his visions, and had rushed to where she was without backup and without hesitating. All the signs had been there all along.

Had she noticed just a few jours before, they could have been together, could have courted, unashamedly kissed each other in the middle of the ops center if they had so choose, and not surprised anyone else on base, except perhaps Bulkhead. They could have been an actual couple, had Arcee just pushed her fears aside and told him. But now, they would never be together in this life.

The blue and pink femme slammed down on the rush of emotions that wanted to break down her walls so firmly and suddenly, that Ironhide and her sisters sent comm requests to her, since she had turned her comm-link off. They also were sending worried emotions through their ends of the bonds.

Arcee turned her comm-link back on and accepted the requests from her family. But even during the conversations that followed, her processor was still thinking on what she had learned, and how different things might have been if she had seen it earlier.

One thing was certain. Shadow' had better still be single when she was finally called Home.

* * *

><p><strong>June 24, 2013 1:01 P.M<strong>

**Tropical island in the Pacific**

I laid down on the white sand of the beach, optics closed, wings folded against my backplates to prevent any possible discomfort. Now this… This I could get used to.

The sand was soft, loose. But it also wasn't so loose that it was getting into my armor.

Waves crashed against the shore of the small island I was on, providing an unending supply of relaxing music. The water came far enough up the beach to lap against my pedes, but not so far that they disrupted the sand under most of my frame.

The sky was perfectly clear, a steady breeze was blowing from the South, and the Sun was beating down on me at about eighty-five degrees. Not too hot or cold, according to my personal preferences.

Everything was just right. Although, it felt like something important was missing…

A slender servo suddenly rested on my chestplates, and I felt a feminine frame move up against my side.

I smiled. _Now_ everything was just right.

I placed one of my servos on top of the one on my chestplates, opened my optics, and looked to my side.

Arcee smiled back at me, azure optics shining in happiness. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," I said back as I wrapped my other servo around her. "Enjoying the time off?"

"Yes. Among other things," the blue and pink femme replied, taking advantage of the extra room I gave her by moving my servo and moving closer to me. "You?"

"Same," I answered. "It's nice to just relax for a while, and spend time with you."

The femme of my dreams smiled slightly and raised an optic ridge. "You realize I'm not real, right?"

The smile that had been on my faceplate since I started to relax fell. "Yes, I know," I said, turning away from Arcee and looking up at the clear blue sky. "It's just… Nice, to have some motivation."

"I'm a fragment of your imagination, I can't give you any motivation," the fake Arcee said. "Not the type of motivation you desire."

"No, but right now you're as close to the real Arcee as I can get," I said, unwrapping my servo from my imagined Arcee and standing up so I could start walking along the beach. As close to the real thing, but so far from it, that is.

"Something you create in your CPU, is not an effective substitute for the real-life counterpart," my imagination of Arcee said, disappearing from where she was lying on the sand and reappearing beside me, walking with me with her servos folded behind her backplates.

I looked out over the sea, not looking at my imagined version of the femme who captured my spark. "I am well aware of this fact."

"Then why do you keep creating an image of me?" My imagination of Arcee asked.

"Because a memory isn't the same as being with someone in person," I answered with a small frown as I continued looking out at the sea. This happened every time. I had a few moments of blissful ignorance, then my imagination turned on me. My imagination was supposed to obey me, not question why I imagined things.

My imagined Arcee appeared in the water, walking through it like there was a glass floor only a few feet below the surface. "Your imagination does obey you. And right now, you are imagining this conversation, including each and every one of my responses and explanations."

I huffed. "Then why bother even manipulating my dreams?"

"You already know the answer to that. You are merely visualizing your thoughts in this manner," my imagination of Arcee replied.

I looked away from my imagination of Arcee, and turned my gaze straight ahead. My visualization of Arcee was right, of course. I kept making this my dream was because I had nothing else to grab onto, to look at for any measure of hope.

The last mega-cycle, jour, orbital-cycle, I honestly didn't know anymore, was far from… Comfortable. Every cycle was the same. Online in a cell, Cortical psychic patch session with an insane interrogator in his endless search for something in my helm, beatings and torture with an insane interrogator to satisfy his anger at not finding what he was looking for, processor games with an insane interrogator for no apparent reason than his enjoyment, actual games with an insane interrogator because he had no friends, or was simply bored. Repeat the following cycle.

My imagination of Arcee represented the only thing keeping me together right now. The thought, and hope, that she was still on Earth, alive and well. And that some cycle, I could find a place like this island and take her there when I returned… _If_ I returned.

"Creating a visual image of your hope does not further your resolve, it weakens it. For if you find that the shape of the person or idea you put your hope in does not fit with the image you have created, it shatters," my imagined Arcee stated as she appeared in front of me, lounging under a Coconut Tree just beyond the beach.

I sighed. This again. "I know, but memories and images are all I have."

My imagination of Arcee looked at me, seriousness filling her fake optics. "The chances of her having passed on to the next life, far exceed the odds of her survival," she said, emotionlessly and blankly.

Ah, so there's my logical side. Was wondering when it would show up. Time for a debate. "Love has nothing to do with logic," I said, used to the sudden mood changes of my imagined Arcee, since every side of my processor was involved in imagining her.

"And your hope most likely does not love you back," my imagined Arcee countered.

"She won't need to. All she has to do is be there, and I will be alright," I said.

"And if she is gone? What happens to your hope?" The fake Arcee asked, disappearing from under the tree and reappearing in front of me, fake optics staring into my own.

"If she's gone, what else is there for me to hope for?" I asked in kind, tone hollow. If she was offline… I really don't know what I would do. I was well aware that her injury had been… Grievous. She lost a lot of energon in a very short time, that coupled with the fact the wound was so close to her spark made it worse. The odds of her having survived it were very slim, even with Optimus running to get her back to base in time. But I couldn't, wouldn't, give up the hope she was still online. It was all that was keeping me going.

"And that is why you must find something else to look to for hope. You will break if she is offline," my imagined Arcee stated factually, crossing her servos over her chestplates and beginning to pace in front of me.

I gave the fragment of my imagination a blank look. "There's nothing else I can find hope in."

"You must. There are others close to you besides her. Your fellow Autobots, your creators, many members of the S.T.F 141, your human friends at base. Allowing yourself to break would be letting them all down," the fake Arcee pointed out.

I looked away from my imagination of Arcee, and back out at the ocean. "None of them are her," I whispered. I knew my logical side was right, I wouldn't have imagined the fake Arcee saying it otherwise, but it didn't change the fact that I would never be the same mech if she was gone. Nothing would make me better if that was the case. My logic would completely take over. I would be emotionless, almost uncaring, like the robot many humans would see me as.

My imagination of Arcee reappeared in front of me, fake azure optics meeting my own. "Did you not tell her to never lose the fear of losing friends? To not become numb? For if she did, that she would become the machine many humans will see Cybertronians as? If you do not listen to your own words, what does that make you?"

I blinked once, slowly, without turning away from the fake Arcee's gaze. "A hypocrite."

"And how would she react to that? To you not following your own advice and abandoning those close to you?" My imagination of Arcee asked, tone still emotionless.

"Badly," I answered as I turned my helm to the right, lost in thought. "Very badly."

"Then if you cannot find something else to find hope in, prepare yourself for the worst, and to follow your own advice," my imagined Arcee said.

I closed my optics and let out a breath. I didn't _want_ to prepare myself for the worst. It would feel like I was giving up on her, surrendering my hope to the cold logic of the chances of her having survived her injury were far less than her having surccumbed to it. I couldn't do it.

But at the same time, if I didn't prepare myself for the worst, I would most certainly break, and what I would do in the immediate aftermath of finding out she was gone was impossible to predict. It wasn't something I wanted to think about, yet at the same time had to if I was to prepare myself for the worst.

I hated conflicted thoughts.

My imagined Arcee reached up and turned my helm to look at her again, a serious look set on her faceplate. "The easiest course of action is never the best," she said quietly, voicing the thoughts I had created subconsciously.

We stood there for a micro-klick, then she leaned forward, almost as if to kiss me, but she stopped well before my lips. "Time to get up," she whispered so quietly that it was barely audible to my audio receptors, despite our close proximity.

And then I onlined.

* * *

><p><strong>June 24, 2013 4:29 P.M<strong>

**Prisoner ship Hammer, interrogation cell**

My optics snapped open, the pain of my numerous injuries hitting me in full force as I onlined. Various cuts, shallow stab wounds, and burn marks from a plasma torch were all across my frame, all from Scalpel's interrogations. Though my most painful injury technically wasn't an injury. It was my wings, or rather, the restraint on my wings. It kept them bent and out of place, together and not apart like they should have been.

It was something Scalpel had done to make it harder to concentrate. It was working, for the most part. At times, it was hard to focus on things other than pain, or what he was saying. But I was starting to get used to it. Not sure if that was bad or not.

I turned my helm from side to side, breaking off the usual build up of ice that formed there. That was another tactic Scalpel was using to make it harder for me to concentrate, or in this case even think. The temperature had been turned down to well below zero, almost to the point where my systems would be damaged by the cold, but not quite. My interrogator had then made the air humid, creating ice on every surface, including me.

My guards, or at least each shift of them, never had such problems, since they were equipped with heat packs that kept their armor too warm for ice to form. Lucky bastards.

I started to stretched my neck cables, breaking the tiny icicles that had formed between my cables and gears. After I had done that, I moved my backplates to break the slabs of ice that had formed there while I recharged. Then I stood up, breaking the ice that joined my pedes to the floor, and removed as much of the frozen water from my pedes as I could by hitting them against each other, or just by bending them until the ice was deformed and fell off my armor.

It only took a few micro-klicks for me to clear my pedes of ice. I had gotten a lot of chances to perfect a routine that was as efficient as possible, which really wasn't anything to be proud of.

I remained standing after I finished clearing off ice, my usual habit after the first cycle of staying in this cell. It was to show Scalpel that he hadn't broken me. A small victory to shoot for, but it never failed to make my interrogator pause in the doorway when he entered the cell for the first time of the cycle.

And he would be arriving in a few klicks, if he kept to his schedule. My internal clock read that it was late in the afternoon, but it was severely off, since this system was running on a different cycle of time than Earth. That always left me clueless as to the time of the solar-cycle, but I was now used to the seemingly odd breems.

I brought myself out of my thoughts and checked my internal clock again. Now, unless Scalpel was busy with another prisoner, he should be walking through the door right about… _Now._

Right as I predicted, the door to my cell opened, and Scalpel stepped inside, pausing briefly with a small frown when he saw I was standing up.

"I see you are still refusing to accept ze inevitable," my interrogator said as he walked toward me with his servo behind his backplates, having to look up at me since I was more than ten feet taller than him. "I will break you completely and utterly at some point, don't you worry! And trying to achieve that goal has been so much fun!"

I didn't react to his statement. I had learned to lock down any and all emotion while he was present, and even while he wasn't, since I suspected my cell had hidden cameras. If I reacted to something he said, it would be a sign of weakness, and he would exploit it.

"Nothing to say this morning?" He asked, odd voice almost friendly. "You are a murderer of fun! Oh, well. Hook him up."

A nearby guard attached one end of the Cortical psychic patch to the port in the wall, and the other to my helm, but I didn't react to the pain it brought. I had been through it enough that it didn't register to me now.

Scalpel walked over to where his holographic terminal was located and activated it, then hovered his servo over the button that would activate the patch. "Let round one, begin!" He pressed the button.

The pain of the Cortical psychic patch had lessened greatly since he first went through my CPU, and it still hurt like few things I had ever experienced, but I remained standing throughout the entire process. I had been through this too many times for me to count, so it was losing its effectiveness. That and it was nothing compared to some of the torture Scalpel had put me through. Sick fragger.

As was the usual, images and green light mixed in with my memories flashed before me as they were copied and transferred to Scalpel's terminal. They were the same every single time, from what I could tell, though there was so many of them that it was difficult to know for certain. I hadn't been able to understand a single one, either, and since Scalpel was never happy after this process, neither had my interrogator. It was like I was in almost constant suffering because fuzzy images of… Something, were in my helm.

Seemed like a stupid reason to be tortured. At least, right now it did. Maybe when I actually knew what what was flashing before me meant, I would understand. Who knew, maybe this time I would see something I understood… Hopefully.

The Cortical psychic patch session came to an end, leaving my vision filled with images and green light as always. Still had no clue what anything meant. Damn.

My interrogator, as was usual, was a bit more upset about not making progress than I was.

"Every time! Every time ze same thing!" Scalpel yelled, his normal tone of maddened happiness replaced by anger. He glared at his terminal. "Bad terminal! Bad! You aren't getting ze information I want! No upgrade for you!"

"Maybe the terminal's not at fault, maybe you're just incompetent," I suggested. I knew from experience that Scalpel's fury was painful when directed at me, but this was the one and only point in the entire cycle where he lost himself in his frustration, and was vulnerable to insults and taunts. He got to torture and beat me all solar-cycle, both physically and mentally, I had to take every chance to get back at him.

Electricity coursed through my frame for my comment, originating from the cuffs around my servos, I had learned in my time here.

"Oh, so now you want to talk? Too bad. Be. Quiet," my interrogator said. He was attempting to have it come out as a growl, but his voice was too high to be successful.

"How about I don't stay quiet and say that I am?" I asked, mockingly.

Another electric shock was Scalpel's only response, not even turning his gaze away from the jumble of information being displayed on his terminal.

I shrugged off the stunning device. "Aww. Did I hurt your feelings with the incompetent quote? Or did I just get it wrong? Do you really just don't know what you're do-"

Scalpel shocked me again with his little remote, and stormed over to me. "I SAID QUIET!" He yelled, doing his best to get in my faceplate, even though I still towered over him.

'The temptation to hit him, is almost overwhelming,' I thought. He was standing directly in front of me, out of immediate reach of his guards. And it wasn't like hitting him would get me in bigger trouble. I would still be tortured after this, no matter what I did. But, for all I knew, he had been going easy on me this last… Jour? Two? Hell if I knew anymore. And if he had been going easy on me, I didn't want to ask for his entire anger to fall down on me… Oh, forget it.

I reared my helm back and slammed it into Scalpel's, instantly creating a dent in the helm of the smaller mech, while sending him onto his backplates heavily. And for a nano-klick, I had the satisfaction of towering over Scalpel's prone frame, staring down at him as he cried out in pain.

Then the stock of a guard's rifle hit me in the jaw, knocking me down to my knee-joints and causing me to leak energon from the corner of my mouth. Ah. Small price to pay.

Two other guards started to help Scalpel up, but he shrugged them off and got himself back on his pedes, then walked back over to me and glared down at me. "That… Was _not_ a good idea…"

My only response was to meet his glare, and spit energon in his optic, making my interrogator cover his optic and wipe at it in an effort to get the liquid out of his optic. It got me another rifle stock to the faceplate, but I found it to be worth it. Rarely did I get a chance to get on Scalpel's nerves twice in a solar-cycle, let alone in the space of one klick.

While still covering his optic, Scalpel electrocuted me again, but I barely felt it. He then glared at me with his one remaining open optic, before turning and leaving the cell, likely to clean out the energon I spit in his faceplate.

I chuckled lowly. Yeah, go pout. I win round one.

* * *

><p>Scalpel wiped the last of the energon from his optic with a gel towel, silently fuming while he did.<p>

The nerve of the Xel'Tor. He spit in his optic! His _OPTIC!_ That was against the rules of interrogation! The interrogator was supposed to have all the fun, and _just_ the interrogator! The prisoner was not supposed to provoke, injure, or spit at his capture! And yet, the Xel'Tor had done all three. At _once!_

The interrogator threw the towel against the wall of his office in frustration. The Xel'Tor should have been broken by now! He had been through everything Scalpel had thrown at him! Torture, cold, CPU games, rapid energon loss, and yet he was always the same every cycle! Every single one!

He hadn't been able to find something the Xel'Tor feared, or even recover any information he actually understood! It was _MADDENING!_

Scalpel started pacing in his office, insane CPU focused entirely on coming up with ways to break the Xel'Tor, since the information in his helm was still useless at the moment. CPU washing? No, might erase the data contained within his helm, and as useless as it was right now, they needed it. Mental torture? Nope, Xel'Tor's already proven resistant to that method. Heighten his pain receptors? That won't work, either. Already tried it without success. Amputation of wings? Turn him into just a ground-based Cybertronian? No, unwanted reformatting might cause insanity… At least Scalpel would have a friend!

The insane interrogator switched to coming up with other methods of breaking the Xel'Tor. It was clear to him that the Xel'Tor was drawing strength from something. Hope, was what mechs and femmes that still had sanity called it. He found it to be a useless concept. However, he could not deny its effectiveness. But, if the Xel'Tor's hope was destroyed, then perhaps he would finally be broken.

Scalpel smiled. Oh, good, he was making progress! So, what was it that the Xel'Tor drew hope from? And how could he destroy something he could not physically touch?

Extremis' chief interrogator looked at where the terminal on his desk would appear, which contained the summaries of psych evaluations for all his patients, all of which were written by a doctor who observed each of Scalpel's interrogations. He hadn't read the Xel'Tor's psych evalulation. Perhaps it was time that he did.

Scalpel sat down in his chair and powered up the terminal, its holographic form coming to life as soon as he sat down. He quickly started shifting through the hundreds of files of patients, until he came to the Xel'Tor's, one of the few unopened folders on his terminal.

The insane interrogator opened the file and began to read.

_Subject Xel'Tor._

_Gender: Mech._

_Name: Unknown._

_Age: Unknown._

_Mental state: Unknown, but believed to be perfectly stable._

_Fears: Unknown._

_Despite extensive interrogation by Chief Interrogator Scalpel, the Xel'Tor has not displayed fear of any interrogation technique. He has revealed little of himself other than the fact he is aware the chief interrogator is frustrated by his lack of progress in breaking him, and uses this fact to taunt Scalpel during his interrogations._

_Overall, subject is not forthcoming with any form of information regarding himself or the Autobots. His exact standing with them is unknown, but he is believed to be an honorary member at the very least._

_There is, however, one piece of information that may be noteworthy. During his capture, the Xel'Tor arrived in the ambush zone with two Autobots, one of which was Field Commander Arcee. Judging by how the Field Commander and the Xel'Tor reacted to each other's presence, it is possible that there was a mutual attraction between the two. Field Commander Arcee was gravely injured in the ambush that captured the Xel'Tor, but Optimus Prime, the other Autobot that accompanied the subject, carried her from the battle, and her fate is unknown to us._

_But, her fate is, likely, also unknown to the Xel'Tor. And if there was an attraction between them, and he is seeking information on her condition, she might be weakness in his psyche. This information, however, is theory until it is used during one of Chief Interrogator Scalpel's sessions with the subject._

Scalpel reread the summary once more, then smiled with giddiness. The information may not be confirmed, but it was something he was not aware of until he read through the psych evaluation. And that in itself was something that made him happy.

The insane interrogator got up from his desk and walked to the door, almost skipping as he went.

Yay! He knew what to do to break the Xel'Tor! No more being taunted! He could go back to having fun!

* * *

><p>I stayed down on my knee-joints after Scalpel left. Whenever he got back, he wouldn't be happy. Torture would be his next order of business. It always was what he fell back to after my first Cortical psychic patch session of the cycle. Better get myself prepared while he was gone, and I had some time before he began.<p>

I took in a breath and let it out slowly. Just focus on Arcee, and everything will be fine. Focus on Arcee and you'll be fine.

'For now,' I thought cynically.

I blocked that thought out. I needed to focus on the one thing keeping me going, not think about how I still didn't know her condition. No matter how much not knowing was eating away at me.

The door to the cell opened, and I looked up to see Scalpel returning, his not-quite-right smile plastered on his faceplate, while the off look in his optics sparkled.

"Hello again, Xel'Tor, did you miss me?" My interrogator asked happily, not stomping around the cell like I was expecting. Was he starting the CPU games early?

I didn't respond. Whenever he did something I wasn't certain about, that was the safest course of action.

Scalpel gave me an amused look when I didn't say anything. "Why ze silence? Are you expecting torture for what you did earlier?" He waved a servo dismissively. "That is in ze past. All is forgiven."

I didn't buy his nice act. He'd done it before, when he was trying to get in my processor, mess with my thoughts. But this was the first time he'd skipped over torture and beatings, and gone straight to CPU games. Why the change?

"Still nothing to say? I'm hurt! How can we be friends when ze only thing you give me is silence?" My interrogator asked. He looked like he was offended, but his optics were still filled with that off look. He was up to something.

"We are not friends," I said.

"But you replied to me! That makes us friends, right?" Scalpel asked cheerily.

I made it a point to not respond to his second question.

My interrogator sighed in disappointment and looked off to his left, shoulder-joints drooping slightly in what appeared to be sadness, but his optics still had that off look in them. "Why can I not have a single friend? Is that too much to ask? Oh, ze woes of being alone." He shook his helm and looked back me. "But enough about my sadness! Tell me about your friends among ze Autobots, Xel'Tor. Are there many?"

I stayed silent. He had never asked about my fellow Autobots before. He always stuck to topics related to me, not my comrades. It was beyond suspicious, and the fact he bypassed torture to ask about my comrades sent alarms off in my helm. He was taking this somewhere, and I wasn't going to play along.

"Nothing? You must have made friends among ze Autobots," Scalpel said, feigning shock as he went over near the terminal and leaned against the wall. "They are a very social group of bots. They come together and train ze weakest member of their units, so that they learn from more than one source. They are always checking up on each other, too, making sure everyone is at their best. It is quite common, even expected, for groups of Autobots to grow close, form strong friendships." His optics shifted to me, a calculating look appearing along with his usual insane one. "It is also common for some of these friendships to form into something more."

I didn't react, at least not visually. What he getting at? Did he know something? Did he know I cared about Arcee?

"Yes, I know, it's shocking. But as crazy as it sounds for a military group to have widespread fraternization among its ranks, ze Autobots commonly have bonded Cybertronians working together," Scalpel continued as I had expressed disbelief. "They even encourage it! Can you believe that? They _encourage_ fraternization! Foolish, I say! We have done extensive research, gone through records, accessed their databases, and found that on average, one in every ten Autobots are spark-bound to another Autobot. I do not agree entirely with ze Decepticon cause, but at least Megatron has locked down on distractions such as that… Although, that might be because only one in a million femmes sided with him in ze war… Hmm." He shrugged. "Maybe I am a little too judgmental of ze Autobots. After all, we Paraions have similar philosophies regarding relationships among our ranks. Granted, bonded pairs are usually transferred to other divisions if possible, to cut down on… Distractions." His optics darted to me again. "But still, we and ze Autobots agree that it is far better to offline bonded than be alone, without a love to bring happiness and joy."

I kept my faceplate impassive. He definitely knew something, and I couldn't show any weakness, he would exploit it.

"I cannot imagine what you are going through right now, being away from your beloved courted," my interrogator said, then looked at me fully. "You are Field Commander Arcee's courted, aren't you?"

I did everything I could to not react, I really did, but I couldn't stop the faint twitch of my left optic. He had figured out that I had feelings for her, stumbled upon the one source of hope I could see. And with him, that could only mean bad things for me.

Scalpel smiled in amusement, but from him, it came out as twisted and wrong. "I knew it! Onlooker owes me five cubes!" He cried, seemingly to no one. He calmed himself down. "So, how long have you been together? Got any plans to get bonded? I bet you two are just so _happy_ with each other!"

My left optic twitched again without me being able to stop it. He was using my feelings for Arcee to get inside my helm, I knew that. And at the same time, I couldn't stop him from doing so. But I needed to focus on Arcee herself, not what Scalpel was saying. It's all I could do.

The insane mech suddenly grimaced. "Oh, that's right. I should replace that 'are' with 'were.' You _were_ happy with each other, until she… Well, you know."

My optic twitched again, and I looked fully at Scalpel without thinking. And despite the voice in the back of my helm telling me he was getting in my helm, I couldn't help but wonder what he meant.

Scalpel raised his optic ridges in surprise, though his optics held the same off look as they had since he came back to the cell. "You don't know? I thought you were told." He sighed sadly, as if preparing himself for an unpleasant task. "Well, Field Commander Arcee is… Hmm, how do I put this? Ah, yes. She's offline."

His statement made me go numb, despite the voice in the back of my helm screaming that he was playing CPU games with me. No, no, she wasn't gone. She couldn't be. I treated her injury, I stabilized her. Optimus had been running at full speed to get her back to base. She had to be online.

… But, even though she had been stabilized and Optimus had left the battle to get her to Moonracer and Ratchet, her chances had been very, very low. But she had to be online… Right?

"Yes, I'm afraid she went offline," my interrogator continued, appearing to take note of how I was reacting. "Your leader, Optimus Prime, ran into another group of our soldiers. There was a brief battle, but ultimately your leader and your courted were offlined. Quite unfortunate, I would say. But at least they did not offline alone." His optics focused on me, a twisted smile on his faceplate. "Like you will."

I didn't even react to his words, didn't feel any pain from my wounds anymore. I didn't even feel the electric shock that went through my frame, my spark reaching out for Arcee's snuffed one. Optimus was offline, _she_ was offline. My spark, my _everything_, was gone. I had nothing left to hope for. I never even got to tell her. And I was alone… Completely alone.

"It could be worse, you realize," Scalpel said. "They could have encountered a group of Decepticons, who are far less civilized than we are." He walked toward me, not even trying to hide the joy he was feeling at my pain. "They would have kept Optimus Prime online for as long as possible, making sure he felt as much pain as they could inflict. As for your courted, she probably would have offlined from her injury by the time they got to her, but she would have had to watch, slowly offlining from energon loss, as they beat your leader until he offlined. Terrible last image of this life. But lucky for them, they were merely given a painless execution by our troops." He paused, and leaned down toward me. "It was painless for them, but for you? Oh, for you its _excruciating,_ because you're only just now finding out that your hope has been useless this _entire_ time. Because it was never there in the first place. How perfectly depressing!"

My optic twitched and I let my helm fall. I had lost everything that mattered to me, the one thing that had given me hope. The one person I loved beyond family. I had nothing left, nothing worth fighting for.

I had nothing, because it had been taken from me. It _all_ had been taken from me. And I was surrounded by bots that were part of the same organization that had taken my spark, my _everything_, from me, bots who might have even been a part of the battle that took her from me. None of them deserved to be alive.

My vision started to go red at that moment, and I didn't need my Quriomus Protocol to get rid of my rational thoughts, because I got rid of them myself, and embraced the white-hot rage that came with the Protocol.

* * *

><p>Scalpel smiled in giddiness when the Xel'Tor lowered his helm in defeat. Yay! He finally broke the Xel'Tor! Happy cycles! Now he could do whatever he wanted!<p>

The interrogator tisked in fake pity. "Aww, what's wrong, Xel'Tor? Are you sad about your courted? Well, I have ze perfect cure for that, crying in pain in misery! So, do you want to have a little crying session?!

**"No,"** the Xel'Tor said in a voice so deep that it seemed to shake the walls of the cell, despite the fact that it wasn't any louder than it normally was. **"But you will."**

* * *

><p><strong>Just one thing to say regarding the ending. Crap's going down next chapter. That is all.<strong>

**This chapter's credit song is "Audiomachine - Kill 'Em All (Death Mix)" Listen to this, and you will know why it is the credit song.**

**Please leave a review that tells me what you think, and thank you all for reading. I will see you soon.**


	35. Rage

**Well, this chapter kept on going. Equaled my longest chapter and kept on going for another 5k words. All I can say is, dang. Really went all-out with this. I hope you all enjoy it. :)**

**To those who have favorited, reviewed, or followed this story, thank you so much. One of the major reasons I still keep writing this is because of how much you like reading it and tell me. The fact I love writing it so much also has an affect. Lol. But seriously, thank you. :)**

**Ashwood's Flame - I left it at a cliffhanger because I like them WAY too much, and it adds suspense. :)**

**Guest - I have no comment regarding that, despite the fact that is being covered in this chapter. :P**

**Hmm. The rhythm of the song doesn't fit with the Autobots, at least not with the style of my writing and what does on in this story. I can see why you picture it going with the Autobots, though. That one line does seem to work with how they are in Prime. And I read all my reviews, most of the time more than once. I never ignore feedback, good or bad. :)**

**And you read this whole thing in three days? Good gosh, your eyes must be hurting a lot. You went through what is basically three full-length novel's worth of material in 72 hours. I am flattered you found this worthy of burning your eyes looking at a screen so much. Haha. Hope you like this update.**

**dragonbookadditct - Glad you like it so much. I have put tons of work into each character, location, and detail. I am always happy to see people who like it as much as I do. :)**

**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.**

* * *

><p><strong>June 24, 2013 4:41 P.M<strong>

**Prisoner ship Hammer, interrogation cell**

Scalpel barely had time to register the Xel'Tor's words, and had no time to notice the fact his prisoner's wounds repaired themselves in the short time the Xel'Tor spoke, before he was kicked in the chestplates and sent flying into the door of the cell, his frame leaving a noticeable dent in the super-dense alloy. He then slid to the floor and moved sluggishly, heavily dazed by the blow, but still able to understand what was happening.

The soldiers in the room sprang into action immediately, bringing their rifles up and opening fire on the prisoner, sending hundreds of stun rounds through the air, since their standing orders were to not offline their captive.

The Xel'Tor was unfazed by their fire, and charged at the nearest soldier at a speed that shouldn't have been possible. He lowered his shoulder-joint and rammed into the soldier, sending the guard soaring into another one near the wall with enough force to shatter not only their shields, but their armor as well, leaving both of them injured and out of the fight for the moment.

Within a nano-klick, the Xel'Tor was moving again, this time rushing a soldier near the wall. He reached the other mech in an instant, and slammed his still-restrained servos into the soldier's tank, taking advantage of their shields' noticeable weakness to kinetic energy, and breaking the barriers of the guard effortlessly and knocking him against the wall, before finishing him off by sending one of his elbow-joint into his helm, crushing the soldier's helm like it had been made of Tin.

As soon as they saw that they had suffered a fatality, the other guards switched off the stun mode on their weapons and continued firing. They each knew every protocol for their position as prison guards, and standing orders were overridden when a soldier was offlined by a captive.

But the Xel'Tor adapted to the new threat, and used his speed to dodge as much of their fire as he could, and simply took what shots he could not dodge, the wounds from such shots repairing themselves almost as quickly as they opened.

The enraged mech reached another soldier, the one who had hit him with the stock of his weapon, ripped the rifle from his grip, and snapped the guard's servo with almost no effort, and the guard grunted in pain. The Xel'Tor then started using the soldier as a shield, while at the same time returning fire with the rifle he just aquired.

One guard caught a five-round burst to the chestplates. His shields were made to withstand extreme amounts of fire from weapons built by a Tier 2 race, but they were not built to take punishment from weapons built with Tier 1 technology. The shielding held against the first two heavy Hard-Light rounds, the third then broke them, and the final two dug into the guard's armor and exploded, tearing his frame apart and offlining him before he even had a chance to move out of the line of fire. His offline chassis was then reduced to nothing but ashes, as was typical of Hard-Light weaponry.

Another soldier was offlined when the Xel'Tor aimed at his weapon and hit its power cell, consuming him in an explosion of orange energy that incinerated his frame as easily as paper was destroyed by lava.

The five guards who remained standing or were not being used as a shield focused their fire on the rifle in their prisoner's servo, having identified the threat it posed when the enraged mech used it. The rifle was soon atomized by their fire, leaving their prisoner weaponless.

With his rifle gone, the Xel'Tor snapped the neck of the guard he had been using as a shield with one servo, the action so violent, and the strength behind it so great, that the soldier's helm was almost twisted off.

He rushed forward, almost appearing in front of one of the remaining soldiers due to the speed he moved. His fists shot forward like black lightning bolts, breaking the Hard-Light of the soldier's shield in two blows, then offlining him with a third punch that broke every joint in the guard's neck, and sent his helm clattering against the floor.

The Xel'Tor was moving again almost before the other soldiers realized another of their comrades had fallen, and were only just beginning to shift their aim by the time the enraged mech was upon them.

One guard was offlined by his own rifle, his helm caved in from when the Xel'Tor used the weapon as a club.

Another had his frame riddled with Hard-Light rounds, and fell into a pile of amber ashes, suffering the same fate as one of his fellow soldiers.

The third ended up with a moleculon combat knife sticking out of his spark, having attempted to cut into the Xel'Tor's neck when his backplates were turned to him, only to be disarmed and offlined so quickly by his opponent that his optics couldn't follow his movements.

And the final soldier had his pedes swept out from under him, before his helm was crushed beneath the pede of his enraged prisoner.

In all, the entire battle took less than five micro-klicks, but to Scalpel, it seemed like time had gone by even faster. The Xel'Tor had a Quriomus Protocol, and _he_ had activated it. How had he not taken precautions against that? Oh, yes. Because only one in almost one point seven _trillion_ mechs was even born with it! _That_ was why he hadn't taken precautions against it! And now his interrogation cell was a mess! There were ashes on the floor, for Primus' sake! Those were _always_ hard to clean up!

The part of Scalpel's CPU that still retained its sanity blocked out the part that had become mad, and the interrogator noticed the Xel'Tor was staring at him from across the room, his once royal cobalt optics now blood red with pure, unadulterated rage.

His prisoner started to slowly stalk toward him, each step breathing anger and rage. The insane mech suddenly felt the urge to lock himself behind a very sturdy door, with a large arsenal of weapons within reach… And perhaps with a few cubes of high-grade.

Abruptly, a shot rang out from Scalpel's left, and a dozen orange pellets of energy hit the Xel'Tor in the chestplates, and he fell to the floor and didn't move.

The insane interrogator looked at where the shot originated, and saw one of the soldiers the captive had sent into the wall aiming an MK IV X-801 Close Combat Heavy Scattergun, known commonly as a 'Vaporizer,' the latest version of the highly-popular series of shotguns that were built by the original Research Division from data found by the first Reclamation Division when they still had the personal ship of the Thirteen in their possession.

The guard dropped the shotgun and let his helm fall against the wall as soon as he'd fired, faceplate set in a grimace. A shard of his broken armor was sticking out of his tank, likely piercing his soft protoform and causing an internal injury. But he seemed to have been unharmed besides that. The other soldier, however, seemed to have been offlined by either the initial impact of his collision with the one who fired, or from the injuries that followed.

Scalpel was about to speak to the soldier, to complement him on his accuracy, but then he realized one important detail.

The Hard-Light pellets didn't explode.

A spray of rifle fire suddenly riddled the soldier who fired, and his shields broke before he had time to react. His frame was then torn apart by the bullets that pierced his armor and exploded, and he disintegrated almost as quickly as his shields were broken by the heavy Hard-Light rounds.

The interrogator snapped his helm in the direction of the weapons fire, and he froze at the sight of the Xel'Tor standing upright, faceplate set in a snarl. There was a gaping hole in his chestplates, but it was regenerating, repairing itself at a rapid rate, countering the amber Hard-Light that was attempting to eat his armor away before exploding.

The Xel'Tor walked over to where the final guard had been, the wound in his chestplates still repairing itself, and picked up the X-801 and held it in his left servo, while keeping the rifle in his right.

His wound finished repairing itself shortly after he picked the shotgun off the floor, and he shifted his attention to Scalpel, optics seeming to stare into his very spark. He let out a low growl, a sound that seemed more appropriate to have come from a beast in the wilds of Ventqura Munitum than a Cybertronian.

The Xel'Tor lunged toward him.

And the last thing Scalpel felt was his helm being crushed by a pede.

* * *

><p>An alarm sounded throughout the ship. It had been triggered by Onlooker, the doctor assigned to watch the interrogations of Chief Interrogator Scalpel for the next mega-cycle. And now, the entire ship was on high-alert.<p>

A team of eight riot suppression guards ran down a hallway, rushing to Interrogation Cell D-113, where the Xel'Tor had been transferred after he was brought onboard.

Each soldier was better equipped than normal guards. Their armor was thicker, their shields were stronger, and they were authorized to carry whatever gear they wished. Four carried a SMG in one servo, while Hard-Light shields attached to their other servo, allowing them to offline or subdue most prisoners with minimal effort. The other four guards carried Z-349 Specter HMGs, weapons capable of sending thirty Hard-Light rounds per micro-klick into a target more than three kilometers away.

The squad reached the door leading to Cell D-113, and they set up a defensive position in front of it, with the soldier's with shields creating a wall in front, while the others aimed their HMGs at the door.

One of the soldiers in the back rank stepped toward the door, HMG pointed at the ready, but he stopped and quickly fell back into position when the door unexpectedly opened by itself, allowing a frame of a Cybertronian to fall to the floor, since the only thing that had kept it upright was now gone. The offlined chassis was too damaged to be positively identified, but the guard's suspected it was Chief Interrogator Scalpel.

The room beyond the offline frame was pitch black, darker than the night. The Xel'Tor had, evidently, destroyed the lights in the cell, concealing his position.

Since they still were standing in a heavily-lite area, having their optics adjust to the darkness would only blind them. So, one of the soldier's with the shield on his servo opened a sub-space pocket in preparation for throwing an energon flare into the room, but he, along with his squad, tensed up and waited for possible attack when they heard the sound of metal clanging against metal from inside the cell.

No assault came, and a metal object rolled right up to the four with shields, coming to a stop almost right beneath their pedes. At first, it looked like a metal ball, but upon closer inspection, they realized what it was.

It was Chief Interrogator Scalpel's helm, crushed and shaped into a sphere so that it would roll smoothly.

Doom descended on the squad at that moment.

There was a pair of orange flashes of orange light inside the dark cell, and the two shield-toting guards in the middle of the squad's makeshift wall fell to X-801 fire in the brief moment they spared to look down at Scalpel's crushed helm, and had lowered their shields just a few inches. And one soldier carrying a Specter was dissolved when a stream of rifle rounds hit him in the helm, breaking his shields in an instant and offlining him before he had a chance to react to the initial fire.

The squad returned fire, the guards with HMGs spraying hundreds of rounds through the door, unable to distinguish between a shadow or a shape without actually being inside the room, while those with shields tightened together to fill in the gaps left behind by their fallen companions.

But this was exactly what their opponent wanted, and now their flanks were more exposed, since the two remaining shield-carrying bots had moved closer together.

There was another pair of flashes inside the room, and the last two soldiers carrying shields were offlined, again by X-801 fire, and those wielding Specters renewed their suppressive fire, riddling the entire room with bullets. But their weapons were quickly silenced when precise rifle fire from their opponent offlined them one by one, reducing each of them to nothing but dust.

Once the final guard had fallen, the Xel'Tor stepped out from the shadows, wounds he had sustained when hit by multiple HMG rounds rapidly healing as he walked into the well-lit hallway.

He tossed the rifle in his right servo away from him, its power crystal drained and now useless to him, and he picked up one of the Specters up from the floor, wielding the massive HMG like it weighed nothing.

With his new weapon in servo, the Xel'Tor ran down the hallway, heading in the direction the riot squad had arrived from.

In his enraged state, he knew nothing but anger, and he needed another target to satisfy his fury. But his hyper-active CPU was also aware that unless he turned the vessel's alarm system off, as well as the surveillance system that he could feel tracking him, he would be overwhelmed by the sheer number of soldiers that converged on his position at the same time.

The Xel'Tor aimed the X-801 at a dormant holographic panel that he was about to run by. Without his enhanced senses, he would not have been able to detect it. But, since his Protocol was active, the almost undetectable electric field the panel created while it was inactive was as obvious to him as a neon sign.

He fired once, and hit it directly, destroying the panel and sending Hard-Light pellets into the electrical systems, which immediately began to eat away at the advanced circuitry, using the electrical current to travel at near lightspeed, due to its unique qualities.

Within a micro-klick of the Hard-Light entering the electrical systems, the lights went out.

And with a single shot, the Xel'Tor caused chaos across the entire vessel.

* * *

><p>Captain Steelclaw was a by-the-book-type mech. When he was transferred from his position of XO of the battlecruiser Silence of the Night to being the first captain of the Hammer, he had followed instructions without complaint, despite the fact he vastly favored his previous job. He did nothing without consulting the numerous military protocols of the Paraions, and acting exactly as it said.<p>

So when an alarm was sounded by Onlooker, Steelclaw had contacted the doctor through his personal comm-link, asked why he had sounded the alert, and dispatched a riot squad upon learning the Xel'Tor was in the process of offlining everyone in his cell. It was what protocol called for when an individual prisoner rebelled against his or her captivity. He did not even issue a notice to the fleet around Fomes, the red gas giant that the Paraions used for various tasks, including keeping their fleets fueled. Only a full riot warranted a notice to the fleet, according to protocol.

Only when he watched a live feed of the Xel'Tor slaughtering the riot squad, did Captain Steelclaw decide to declare the situation a full riot, and warn the neighboring vessels.

But by then it was too late.

The main lights on the bridge went out before Steelclaw could order a message to be sent to the surrounding fleet, the artificial gravity went offline, and the holographic terminals powered down, leaving the bridge in total darkness. But the lack of light only lasted for a moment, since the emergency power system kicked in, and the dim backup lights turned on, along with the backup gravity generators.

"What happened?" Steelclaw asked a damage control officer calmly, unaffected by the sudden lose of power.

"Unknown, still working on getting access to the system from this," the officer, a smaller mech called Shifter, replied, gesturing at the physical keyboard that had deployed from his station following the main power being taken down, the holographic stations requiring too much energy for the backup systems to power. "Got it. All cameras are offline, but data logs show Hard-Light entering the main systems just before they went down. It's possible that the Xel'Tor found a fault in the system, and exploited it. Probably with a shotgun."

That was not good. "Are communications still operational?"

"We have communications inside the ship, but long-range comms are a negative," the Intelligence officer of the Hammer, a large mech called Frontline, answered instead of Shifter. "I tried sending out a hail to any nearby ships after the backups came online, but there's a fault in the system. I can't send out a message."

Steelclaw took in this information, then looked at his navigator. "Can we dock with a station?"

The navigator shook his helm. "Whatever the Xel'Tor did has had an effect on a few of the backups. Engines one and two are cold, engine four is running at half power, and engine three is running at less than one tenth full. I can barely move the ship forward, let alone get us into dock."

"Is a precise sub-space jump an option?" Steelclaw questioned, walking around several bridge crew that ran around the room, attempting to bring power to some non-critical systems without success.

"That's a no-go. Computer's glitched, giving me wrong answers to calculations," the navigator replied. "Any rupture we open would send us on a blind jump, a randomized one. We could end up on the far side of the universe in a thousand centi-vorns, or come out the other side of the jump inside one of the suns in this system in a micro-klick."

Captain Steelclaw paused for a moment at this news. Protocol did not cover this situation exactly. It was vague, so captains could act as they saw fit. But for a mech like Steelclaw, that was difficult, and it took him time to come up with plans that were outside of protocol. Evacuating the ship was an option, since the escape pods scattered around the Hammer were powered by the backup systems, but that was only used when a ship was too damaged to continue fighting or had been boarded by too many enemies to repel. The only other option he could think of would be to put the ship on alert, lockdown all unnecessary areas, and keep the lockdown in place until security forces could deal with the Xel'Tor. His protocol-following processor found that to be the most logical choice.

"Officer Frontline," the captain finally said, addressing the Intelligence officer calmly. "Put the ship at Level Red. Lockdown all critical areas, armories, launch bays, engine room, prisoner cells, secure everything. All guards are authorized to use lethal force on sight, and are to travel in squads at all times."

Frontline wordlessly followed Steelclaw's orders, connecting his station with the universal communications channels inside the ship and relaying the captain's instructions to anyone listening.

The captain turned his attention back to the navigator. "Keep working on the glitch, I want engines back to full power as soon as possible." He didn't wait for a response from the mech before he walked over to where Shifter was seated at his station. "Can we get power restored to the cameras?"

"Not from here, no," Shifter answered. "It's not an issue with the power, it's wiring. All the cameras are linked to a processing unit, which allows them to function on their own and alert an operator when it spots suspicious activity. The processing unit was located near the 'D' cells."

"'Was'?" Steelclaw asked, noticing the wording of the damage control officer.

"Yes, 'Was.' The Hard-Light went through our whole system, and the processing unit for the cameras was one of the first systems it hit. It's gone. We won't have the cameras operational again until we replace it," Shifter responded, before adding dryly, "But if you would like, I could playback the last million breems of collective footage from the whole system."

Steelclaw ignored Shifter's attempt at humor. "That will not be necessary," he said, then left the damage control station and began thinking of his next course of action. The ship was running on emergency power, cameras were down, sub-space drive would do more harm than good if used, long-range communications were offline, engines were essentially useless, and he had a rampaging prisoner loose, who had already offlined nineteen bots.

He was in a tough situation. So how to get out of it?

The captain's thoughts were interrupted by a cry from Frontline, "Captain! You need to hear this!" He typed a command into his keyboard that would turn on hidden speakers on the bridge, and allow allow the crew to listen into the communications channels onboard the ship, a system he hadn't made sure was active before addressing Steelclaw.

The system was online, and the communications that came through the speakers caused the entire bridge crew to come to a halt and listen.

_"Did you see him?"_ A soldier on the comm asked.

_"Affirmitive! The Xel'Tor's here!"_ Another soldier answered, raising his voice to be heard over gunfire in the background. _"We have four casualties, but we got him pinned down at hall D- Wait, he got behi-"_ The soldier was cut off by a new burst of gunfire.

_"He's behind us!"_ A new guard cried. _"How the frag did he do that?!"_

_"Shift fire!"_ What seemed to be the squad leader ordered. _"Shift fir-"_ He was cut off by the thunderous report of an X-801.

_"The Sergeant's down!"_ A fourth guard yelled. _"We nee-"_ He, too, was cut off by an X-801 being fired.

_"No, no, no! Stay back!"_ The guard who first reported the Xel'Tor got behind them shouted, his rifle firing almost constantly, accompanied by metallic pings as the bullets hit their mark. _"Stay ba-"_ There was an audible snap over the link, followed by a low growl, and then silence.

_"Delta squad, do you copy?"_ The first soldier who spoke asked, then cursed when his question was met with silence. _"Slag. Echo squad, double ti-"_ A long, continuous burst of HMG fire cut him off, followed by other weapons returning fire.

_"He's here already!"_ A new guard reported, then the link went silent.

Frontline had muted the audio. "There's more reports like that one coming from the comm, but I think you get the picture, sir."

Steelclaw certainly got the picture, and he didn't like what it looked like. The soldiers were getting slaughtered. "How many?"

"I can't make contact with Delta, Echo, Omega, Bravo, and Sword squads," Frontline replied. "I think it's safe to assume what happened to them."

The captain put a neutral look on his faceplate and kept it there. Between the five squads, that was forty soldiers, and with the other nineteen added in, the total was just under a seventh of the entire security force on the Hammer. Normally with a ship as large as his, there would be a fighting force three times that size, but since the Hammer was a prisoner vessel, there was a smaller number of soldiers onborad in order to make way for the captives, who outnumbered the guards four to one.

But, with at least fifty-nine offlined, that ratio was now closer to five to one. And would likely grow before this was over.

"See if you can unlock the armories for the rest of the squads," Steelclaw instructed. "They will need more firepower."

"Yes, sir," Frontline acknowledged, then began working to unlock the armories while keeping Level Red active, while at the same time connecting his station back into the communications channels of the Hammer to listen in on the conversations between squads.

The captain looked around the bridge after giving instructions to Frontline, searching for any member of the bridge crew who needed orders. But he found that everyone present was busy with their appointed tasks, like they should have been.

With his presence not required at the moment, he walked up to the upper level of the bridge, where the door was located. He then turned and gazed around the bridge, the higher position giving him a better view of the bridge than his captain's chair, located on a slightly elevated platform below him, ever could.

Steelclaw sighed quietly as he watched his bridge crew work, trying to find solutions to their situation, only to fail and try something else.

He missed his old position on the Silence of the Night.

* * *

><p>Recruit BM-115, a former miner who hadn't found it necessary to take a name after joining the Paraions, sprinted down a hallway that was just a few hundred meters from the bridge, rifle attached to his backplates so he could focus solely on running. Around him, his fellow members of Zetta squad, and the unit they joined up with, Tango squad, gave him suppressive fire, lighting up the otherwise pitch black hallway with orange Hard-Light rounds.<p>

BM-115 was trying to get to the M-98 Hydra Cannon that his squad leader, Chains, had taken from an armory they raided just before meeting up with Tango squad, a slightly larger unit with nine members. The Xel'Tor had made Chains a priority target, and he had been the first to fall when the two units made hard contact with the escaped prisoner. But despite their superior numbers, and the extra firepower they recovered from the armory, they were losing ground. Fast.

The recruit instinctively ducked his helm when one of the mechs he was running by was distintergrated by unnervingly accurate Specter fire, shields offering almost no protection from the HMG.

That was the eleventh guard to be offlined since the fight began, and it seemed like their bullets did nothing to the Xel'Tor. BM-115 had hit him several times, of course, and even in the dim light he had seen the Hard-Light rounds he fired try to eat away at the armor of the prisoner. But, the amber light always faded away, leaving no indication that the Xel'Tor had ever been hit. Using standard weapons to try and offline an opponent that could repair himself so quickly was about as effective as using a combat knife to fight an incoming cruiser. All a bot had to do was look at how close they were to the bridge to figure that out. Cyber squad was on their way with riot shields and a number of heavy weapons, but they wouldn't arrive in time if they kept losing ground like this. The Xel'Tor had fought his way though most of the ship, at least from deck D to deck A. And nothing was stopping him.

That was why BM-115 was rushing to the Hydra Cannon. They couldn't offline the Xel'Tor with the weapons they were currently using, the fact they lost elev-

The booming report of an X-801 drowned out the sound from the weapons of his fellow Paraions, and a mech from his squad was reduced to amber ashes.

-Twelve soldiers to the Xel'Tor was proof of that. They needed something bigger, something that would leave nothing for the Xel'Tor's auto-repair systems to regenerate. And that something was a Hydra Cannon.

Another mech he was running by was offlined by HMG fire, and BM-115 ducked and slid, coming to a stop next the Hydra Cannon and the dust that was once his squad leader. With a herculean effort, BM-115 lifted the huge heavy weapon up and placed it on his shoulder-joint, then aimed it down the hallway he just ran down.

It seemed the Xel'Tor finally ran out of ammunition, since only BM-115's fellow Paraions were firing weapons. But he didn't let himself think that offlining the Xel'Tor was going to be easy now. A lot of mechs had been offlined this cycle, and they had the advantage over the escaped prisoner just like what remained of Zetta and Tango squads did.

The jet black shape of the Xel'Tor came running out of the darkness further down the hallway and lept at a member of Tango squad. The guard lost his shields and was offlined so quickly that BM-115 didn't even see what happened to him.

BM-115 aimed the Hydra Cannon, intent on ending the Xel'Tor before he got to anyone else.

But the escaped prisoner moved again, this time crashing into the last remaining member of Zetta squad besides BM-115 himself, and caving his chestplates inward with two powerful blows, one to break his shields, and the other to offline him.

BM-115 readjusted his weapon, but kept his digit off the trigger when the last members of Tango squad attacked together, firing their rifles at full-auto.

The Xel'Tor ignored the rounds hitting him, and jumped into the air, forcing the two Tango members to aim upward. As the escaped prisoner came down, he kicked the barrel of one of the soldiers' weapons toward the other, and then landed on the guard, crushing his helm beneath his pede while the second soldier was offlined by the redirected fire of the first guard's weapon.

With no weapons to keep the corridor lit, the hallway descended into darkness. But in that blackness, BM-115 saw two red optics look directly at him.

He fired at that moment.

Even long after it was first designed, the Hydra Cannon was still one of the most powerful and advanced infantry weapons the Paraions ever designed. What made it so successful wasn't the missile-shaped Hard-Light projectile it fired, but the fact that the projectile split into dozens of micro-missiles after firing, with each one only slightly less powerful than the initial one, made it such a feared weapon.

The orange Hard-Light missile flew out of the Hydra Cannon's barrel, then seemed to be suspended in the air for a nano-klick while it split apart, before all the projectiles accelerated to hypersonic speeds and zeroed in on the Xel'Tor.

The missiles impacted, and for a brief moment there was a star in the hallway, blinding anyone who looked at it.

The light faded a micro-klick after detenation, as if sucked into a blackhole. And the hallway was dark again, apart from the rapidly cooling slag that was once the floor, walls, and ceiling of the blast zone.

BM-115 waited for the feeling of relief that accompanied victory, but it never came. He was still on alert, still on the high of battle. He felt like he was still being watched.

The Xel'Tor, somehow, someway, avoided the Hydra shot.

The recruit pulled his secondary weapon from his hip, a Binary Heavy Pistol, and aimed it around the hallway as the Hydra Cannon ejected an empty power crystal, and replaced it with one of the remaining two inside the weapon. There was no way the Xel'Tor should have been able to avoid that shot, and yet BM-115 could feel the escaped prisoner nearby, watching, waiting. It made the recruit feel like he was being hunted, or played with.

A faint, metellic clang from off to his right reached his audio receptors.

BM-115 whipped his pistol around and fired three shots from where the noise originated, but in the brief glimpse he was given by the light from his bullets, he saw there was nothing there, just a locked door.

A louder clang came from down the hallway, behind the impact zone of the Hydra shot.

The recruit fired another three rounds in that direction as fast as he could pull the trigger, and again he saw that nothing was there. The Xel'Tor was playing games with him. He _hated_ games.

He would have had his optics adjust to the darkness and amplify the light a thousand times, but he was onboard a ship with no windows, and had no power, there was no light to amplify. Not even the slag from the Hydra Cannon shot provided light, since the material the slag had been made of was designed to cool rapidly. He was fighting blind.

BM-115 felt, rather than saw, movement off to his left, and he fired in that direction. But, like the previous two times he had fired, he saw that there was nothing where he heard the noise.

"Where are you…?" The recruit whispered under his breath, listening for sounds that signaled the Xel'Tor's movements, ignoring the voice of Officer Frontline using the universal communications channel to ask for status updates from Zetta and Tango squads. He would talk to Frontline later, right now he needed to focus.

He never noticed the furious, blood red optics slowly open directly behind him.

The loud snap of metal tearing sounded throughout the hallway, and BM-115's offline frame fell to the floor, with his severed helm unceremoniously dropped next to him.

The Xel'Tor relieved the mech he just offlined of his Hydra Cannon, as well as the heavy pistol he had been using. He then looked down the hallway, toward the bridge.

His heightened senses could feel every vibration in the floor he stood on. Every step a Cybertronian took, every weapon that fell to the floor, he could feel, and even distinguish between the two. And he felt Cybertronians moving in that direction, behind a locked door. Movement meant bots.

And bots meant targets for his fury.

With an animalistic growl, the Xel'Tor ran toward the bridge.

* * *

><p>Captain Steelclaw continued watching his bridge crew work. Most systems were still unoperational, or online but not responsive. And despite numerous attempts to repair to replace critical components, no issues had been solved. The Hammer was still severely crippled by the Hard-Light that had passed through its electrical system.<p>

Frontline's reports had no good news in them, either. The Xel'Tor was still tearing through Steelclaw's security forces, and had been steadily moving in the direction of the bridge since he escaped his cell. And now he was so close that Zetta and Tango squads were apparently engaging him just a few hundred meters down the hallway away from the locked door behind him, with Cyber squad moving to assist. If they did not get communications up and running soon, he might have to order an evacuation.

Steelclaw felt the floor shake beneath him, and faintly heard an explosion from behind of the locked, airtight door behind him. That did not seem good.

"What was that?" The captain asked Frontline.

"Zetta squad's leader reported taking a Hydra Cannon from an armory," the Intelligence officer answered. "Felt like they just used it."

"Contact Sergeant Second Class Chains, and confirm that they are the cause of that disturbance," Steelclaw ordered.

"Yes, Captain," Frontline acknowledged, and focused on his station, likely already tapping into communications.

Steelclaw went back to looking around the bridge, watching for any sign that he was needed somewhere.

Shifter was still at his station, working on restoring systems lost when the main power went out. It did not seem like he required help, but it also appeared that he had not made any progress since he first began trying to restore systems.

The navigator was also still working, trying to solve the glitch in the system that prevented the Hammer from being able to open a stable sub-space portal. He, too, seemed to have made no progress in his task, like Shifter. Steelclaw had some knowledge of sub-space, but not enough to be of any assistance to the mech, so kept searching the bridge.

"Sir," Frontline said, causing the captain to turn his attention to him. "I can't raise anyone in Zetta or Tango squad, they've gone dark."

Steelclaw's optics widened a fraction of an inch in alarm. If Zetta and Tango squads were down, then there was nothing between them and the Xel'Tor. "Unlock the bridge armory. We need to ge-"

The door to the bridge exploded in a blinding flash, and Captain Steelclaw simply ceased to exist.

The light from the Hydra Cannon shot faded, and the Xel'Tor jumped over the molten metal that had once been the door and landed in almost the exact position Steelclaw had been standing. He aimed a Binary pistol at Frontline and fired.

The Intelligence officer saw the shots coming, and rolled away from his station and took cover behind a console. But, despite his quick reaction, the Xel'Tor still managed to take down his shields and hit him with two more rounds, leaving him in pain, but functional.

An engineer who had been working on repairing a power converter deployed the only weapon he currently had access to, a servo-blaster. He fired multiple shots, but the shots fired by the older weapon were ineffective against the Xel'Tor, and he was offlined by a trio of rounds from the escaped prisoner's Binary pistol.

Several other members of the bridge crew deployed servo-blasters and took cover, trying to avoid the enraged mech's deadly aim. But even though they rushed behind cover, two crew members fell to precise Binary fire.

Frontline took advantage of the fact the Xel'Tor was occupied with the other members of the bridge crew, and rushed to the armory on the bridge to grab some more serious firepower, limping slightly due to being shot in one pede. He reached the armory within a micro-klick, due to it being close to his station, and he unlocked it as quickly as he could and reached for a deactivated X-801 on one of the racks. From the footage he had seen before the power went out, a Vaporizer had been the only weapon that knocked the Xel'Tor down in one shot, so it was logical to assume multiple shots would offline him. He just nee-

A Hydra Cannon shot hit Frontline directly, reducing him to stray ions in the air and turning the section of the bridge he had been standing into molten slag.

With his heavy weapon depleted of ammo, the Xel'Tor threw the empty Hydra Cannon at an engineer who had been trying to run between cover, the huge weapon hitting the mech with enough force to break his shields. The escaped prisoner finished him off with a single shot to the helm.

The Xel'Tor shifted his aim to the navigator, who had been too shell-shocked to take cover, and unloaded the last four rounds in the power crystal of his Binary pistol, shattering the mech's shields before hitting him twice in the chestplates and offlining him so quickly that his pedes remained locked.

Without even watching his latest victim off to the floor, the enraged mech dropped the Binary pistol and lept at Shifter, who happened to be the closest bot to him. The smaller mech was unable to offer much resistance, and was offlined within half a micro-klick.

Some members of the bridge crew deployed swords and axes, preparing themselves for close-quarters combat while continuing to open fire on the Xel'Tor. They knew they had little chance of defeating the enraged mech, but they also knew Cyber squad was on their way, and that they would be bringing heavy weapons. If they could last long enough for them to arrive, they had a very real chance of living through the cycle.

But luck, or fate, was not on the side of the crew.

As the Xel'Tor turned and began to engage the rest of the bridge crew in a one-sided close-quarters battle, the offlined frame of the navigator slowly tipped backwards, and fell on the control panel of the helm. His chassis pushed the lever on the physical panel that controlled the engines, and pressed the controls for activating the sub-space drive, sending the Hammer toward an unstable portal to the extra-dimensional space between realities.

And outside the Hammer, suspended beneath a nearby refueling station by no visible metal or force, was a Hard-Light Projector, a weapon that fired a solid beam of Hard-Light, and delivered enough power to break the shields of almost any type of ship in only a few micro-klicks, depending on its size.

The Projector's sensors, operated by an advanced VI, detected the energy of a sub-space rupture being opened, and, as with all unauthorized ruptures, sent a warning message to the prison ship, ordering it to power its sub-space drive down and report its status.

When the VI received no response, and the Hammer continued moving toward the rupture at a slow pace, the construct reviewed protocol, and came to the conclusion that the crew of the vessel were defecting, or the prisoners onboard had taken control.

Neither scenario was acceptable, according to protocol.

The VI powered up the Hard-Light Projector under its control, aimed it at the Hammer's midsection, and unleashed a solid wall of Hard-Light on the prisoner ship. It effortlessly cut through the ship's shields, destroyed eighty percent of its interrogation and holding cells, incinerated Cyber squad as they moved down the final hallway they needed to navigate to reach their destination, and reduced the Hammer to a pair of useless, two-hundred and fifty meter long pieces, one containing the engine room, and the other containing twenty percent of the prison cells along with the bridge.

The actions of the VI may have destroyed the Hammer, but a sub-space rupture did not require power once opened, and would not close until the vessel that opened the portal passed through it, or the sub-space drive created what was called an Antirupture, which caused the original rupture to close.

So, despite the fact the bow of the Hammer had little power, no engines, no control, and no sub-space drive, the momentum it had achieved when its engines were active remained constant, and it continued flying toward the rupture.

Less than half a klick after the VI effectively destroyed the Hammer, the bow of the vessel reached the portal.

And at the same moment as the last remaining crew member was offlined by the Xel'Tor, the Hammer passed into sub-space, and the rupture closed behind it, leaving no trace behind as it began its journey into the unknown.

* * *

><p>My white-hot rage faded, and my vision returned to normal, after the last Paraion fell at my pedes. Unlike when the first time my Protocol activated, I was not confused by finding myself in new surroundings, in a completely different area.<p>

I looked around the room that must have been the bridge, not needing to adjust my optics to the dim lights around the room due to the streaks of blue and black coming from the view port.

The door to the bridge was gone, and I could see sub-space passing by in the edge of the hallway, where whatever had shot the ship had hit.

The bridge was littered with the frames of offlined bots. Some of them had clearly been shot by the pistol I picked up when my Protocol was active, and many others were broken and twisted in grotesque manners.

But not like when my Protocol deactivated for the first time, I did not feel guilt or disgust at seeing what I had done. I didn't feel anything, in fact. No sadness, no anger, no repulsion, no satisfaction, nothing. I felt nothing. And I had no problem with that. I had intentionally and knowingly activated my Quriomus Protocol, this is what I expected to feel after it finally deactivated.

My pedes started to weaken abruptly, and I let myself slide down the side of a station next to me. So my energon levels were getting low, about time. I had silently been wondering why I had been able to stay standing after my Protocol had been active for so long. I had gone through my energon at a much faster rate the first time my Protocol turned on, but I also had used my jet form at the time, so that may have burned through my energon quicker than just staying in true form. Yes, that was the most logical conclusion.

I turned my helm and looked out the view port. The blue and black streaks of sub-space were swirling, spinning around and merging with one another in an otherworldly dance of color. The display was beautiful in its own way, almost like a straight, two-toned Aurora Borealis. To me, they resembled Arcee and I, at least in how they looked. But I didn't react to its sight like I normally would, I was too focused on what caused me to activate my Protocol in the first place.

My spark, my _everything_, was gone. And Optimus was offline.

I felt numb, hollow, just thinking about it. Arcee was offline, taken by a bullet fired by a Paraion while she was critically wounded and unable to defend herself. I had no doubt she would have kicked their aft had she been standing up. Probably trick the bot into shooting one of his or her comrades, disarmed them, and then cut their throat with one of her servo blades. That was how she liked to fight, with nearly blinding speed and quick, precise strikes. She could beat anyone except Optimus in a spar if she put all her effort into a fight. I think the only reason I occasionally won one of our sparring matches was because she just didn't put all her effort into them… Or, she had just let me win out of pity. We wouldn't be sparring again… Or talking, for that matter.

Tears began to form in my optics, and I blinked them away, though I could do nothing to stop my thoughts. I had done everything I could to keep my feelings a secret from her, practically blackmailed Bumblebee from telling her for me. Probably should have let him, looking back. Would have made it easier in the long run.

But I hadn't let him tell her, and by the time I finally decided to tell her, she was offlined, adding another name to the list of people I had been very close to, and had lost. My human mother, my brothers Jim and David, and now Arcee. It wasn't a long list, but when it was a matter of the heart or spark, that didn't matter. It was still enough to turn you numb, and not follow the advice you gave to someone you loved with your all. Losing that someone puts you into a position you can't imagine until you are in it, and are totally and completely alone.

Like I was now.

The tears started to form again, and this time I didn't blink them away, I let them form while continuing to gaze out the view port, remembering the femme who captured my spark as I watched the streaks of blue and black dance around each other. Her laugh, her smile, her humor, her kindness, I spent time thinking about everything about her, and how I would never see her again.

Tears began to drip down my faceplate, and for the first time since my human mother was killed, I cried. I didn't sob or wail or cry out, but I simply cried, and silently wept for my everything.

I cried until my energon levels reached a critical low, and, mercifully, darkness took me.

* * *

><p><strong>(Human calendar) July 1, 2013 6:22 P.M (UTC-6:00 Mountain Standard Time)<strong>

**(Cybertronian date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since Golden Age)**

**Star system R136a1, Path Kethona galaxy (Known as the Large Magellanic Cloud to humans)**

Above a planet so hot that its surface was beginning to boil, the Apex Sentinel floated in space, motionless.

Its design was not artistic, but neither was it utilitarian. It was between the two, with some designs meant to be pleasing to look at, and others meant to only do their jobs. And at one-hundred and ninety-three kilometers in length, the ancient Calvori vessel was large enough to be considered a planetoid, and also half again the size of a Prime-class fleetcarrier, the largest spacecraft fielded by either the Decepticons and Autobots. An impressive fact, considering it originally was created by an organic race.

A golden shield, strong enough to not only take massive amounts of fire even from Cybertronian weapons, but also withstand the incredible heat of the system's star, hugged its hull, keeping the ship safe from the heat that was turning the planet below into a comet. Its hull was lined with thousands upon thousands of Combustion Cannons, Omega Missile batteries, and Warden anti-fighter cannons, giving it enough firepower to take on a pair of Kaon-class dreadnoughts, and win.

A hanger covered with an atmospheric shield was at the bow of the ship, and it went all the way to the vessel's engines. Once, the hangar had been the Apex Sentinel's main cannon, a primitive coilgun that had only been able to fire twenty-one ton round at sixty kilometers per micro-klick, but it had been since been removed to better suit the needs of the neutrals that called the ship home.

Since its rebirth as a Cybertronian neutral vessel, it had attracted members of all factions from the war, and even some who had not been involved at all. Once there had only been a few hundred neutrals onboard, now there were tens of thousands of bots walked its halls, operated its systems, and repaired and refitted it constantly. Many small groups of Cybertronians had joined the Apex Sentinel as well, and their numbers swelled the population onboard. But the massive vessel was far from being crowded, and any bot who wished to join the crew and live in peace with those already living on it were welcomed to join.

On the ship's enormous bridge, surrounded by other bots working at or repairing terminals, stood the Apex Sentinel's captain, a golden femme called Delta.

She stood at thirty-one feet in height, tall for a femme, but not as tall as others. Her optics were yellow and appeared cool or even cold, but in reality the color of her optics made it a bit harder for the average bot to see the kindness in them, the steadfast determination to keep her crew safe from harm. Her personality revealed this more so than her optics. She was lax in formal titles much as 'Captain' or 'Ma'am,' she made the safety of her crew her chief priority, not whether a task was successful or not, and she did not tell the bots who followed her who they could or could not court.

That particular decision had led, in one way or another, to nearly half the population of the Apex Sentinel being sparklings, and nearly a quarter of the fully-grown bots courting or sparkbound. Delta herself had been asked out by a number of mechs that followed her orders and instructions, partly because she was considered to be physically attractive, and partly because she refused to send anyone into unnecessary harm. She had yet to accept the advances of a mech under her command, and didn't plan to, unless she felt like she had met the one meant for her. Being the leader sometimes called for some personal sacrifices, such as romance. Most who had never been in command had a hard time grasping that fact.

Delta looked out one of the large view ports of the bridge, down at a small, shielded location on the planet the Apex Sentinel was orbiting. More than two-hundred of her bots were down there, mining as much Gold as they could from a vein of the precious metal that was just under three kilotons in total reserves, while also extracting Xieron ore from a deposit that exceeded a megaton in size. Those were two resources they always were in need of.

Gold had multiple purposes for Delta and her bots. One was for electrical conductors for the powerful shielding of the vessel itself, as well as the shield generator that those on the planet's surface were using to keep the heat of the system's star away from their operations. Another use for the metal was trade. The Apex Sentinel wandered the stars, and had encountered many alien races, and some of those races had access to vast reserves of raw, processed energon. Only a few discovered the wide variety of uses energon had, but they were willing to trade rare metals for large quantities of the lifeblood of the Cybertronian race. And with more than eighty-thousand Cybertronians onboard, Delta needed to get as much energon as she could, whenever she could.

And Xieron was, while not strong compared to most Cybertronian metals, still stronger and resistant to heat than Iron or Titanium, the primary metals used in the initial construction of the Apex Sentinel by the Calvorians, and it helped them continue the constant process of upgrading or repairing the immense vessel.

But despite knowing how necessary it was to have workers on the surface, Delta still worried for their safety. The surface of the planet outside the shielding around her bots was more than sixty-five hundred degrees kelvin, and was being hit by huge amounts of solar radiation from the system's star, both of which would cause serious damage if a Cybertronian had prolonged exposure. And even though the shielding was keeping any heat, and most of the solar radiation from the star, from coming inside their work zone, the ground itself was still hot enough that the Gold they were mining was in liquid form. They were hard workers, she would have to make sure they had a few cycles off when they returned to the Apex Sentinel.

Delta looked at the view port on the opposite side of the bridge from where she stood, where the system's star could be seen behind heavily tinted view ports. It was an energetic blue hypergiant that was rapidly shedding its mass, and would go hypernova within the next thousand centi-vorns, she guessed. And despite the fact they were more than a billion kilometers from its surface, the Apex Sentinel still required its shields to be active at all times, or it would become like the planet it was orbiting. She was grateful for the fact the world below was not closer to the star. It would have been impossible to recover any resources from the planet if that had been the case.

The door to the bridge opened, and Delta turned to see her XO, Flightstorm, walk through the entrance with his son Wildwing right on his heels, animatedly talking to his sire and holding a picture he had started to draw that cycle. Full of life, that one.

"How is the mining operation coming along?" Delta asked.

"Slowly," Flightstorm answered, then quietly directed his son to go to another part of the bridge for a few klicks while he spoke with the captain. The grey and red mech walked over and stood at Delta's side while Wildwing happily moved to the opposite side of the bridge and began to work on his picture silently. "A few bots had to be taken back to the ship when their radiation levels went beyond the safeties we established before they went down to the surface."

"Any casualties?" The Apex Sentinel's captain asked, a trace of worry in her voice. Cybertronians were almost immune to radiation, but it could be fatal to them if the levels they were exposed to eclipsed the sizeable amount a bot could naturally expel from their systems.

Flightstorm shook his helm. "No, thankfully. Docs got to everyone quickly. No one's going to have any permanent damage." He turned to her slightly. "But you know it's just a matter of time before someone else on the surface needs to be evacuated, and someone else after them."

Delta sighed quietly. She was aware that the mining operation was now running on borrowed time, with workers beginning to fall victim to radiation. Gold and Xieron were valuable to the Apex Sentinel, but the life of a bot was far more important. "Yes, I know."

"Should we bring the rest back and leave the system, trade what we've already mined?" Flightstorm asked, letting her know what his opinion on what they should do while disguising the statement as a question.

The Apex Sentinel's captain considered the option for a moment, then shook her helm. "No. Send them some radiation flushers, that will let them work for another cycle or two." She hated her own order to keep the workers down on the surface for the time being, but she also had little choice in the matter. The ship was low on energon, and had been since they began taking more and more neutrals, Autobots, and Decepticons onboard. And organic races payed premium amounts of energon for Gold. As much as she hated to, she had to keep the crews working for as long as possible, and give them the chance to mine as much metal as they could.

Flightstorm nodded. "Right away, ma'am," he said stiffly, his background as a former Decepticon making it impossible to not acknowledge a superior formally, and opened a comm-link to a resupply team that he had been keeping on standby. He was not angered or frustrated at Delta's decision, and they both knew it. He was annoyed that they did not have the option of bringing the bots down on the surface back home as soon as they wanted.

The grey and red mech finished relaying the captain's orders, and closed the link. A short silence formed between the two commanding officers of the vessel, before Delta broke it. "How is Cyberfrost?"

"She is doing well, thank you for asking," the XO replied. "She and Dawnfire just started teaching their first class of sparklings."

"History or art?" The golden femme asked. For the last eight jours, Cyberfrost had been going through the process of becoming one of the teachers on the Apex Sentinel. With the sparkling population onboard being as large as it was, there was a mentor needed somewhere, and Cyberfrost had wanted to help in whatever way she could, mostly by wanting to teach sparklings the importance of learning history or how to express themselves through art.

Flightstorm chuckled. "Both. She couldn't choose between one or the other, so she and Dawnfire decided to teach both in their class."

"I bet Wildwing loves that," Delta said with a smile, glancing over her shoulder-joint to look at the mechling, who was still working on his picture excitedly.

"He does," Flightstorm said, also looking over his shoulder-joint at his son. "He loves being near his carrier all cycle, also enjoys playing with the other sparklings there." He gave Delta a brief look. "And my 'Frost loves being able to keep an optic on him at all times."

"She still worries about him after what happened last orbital-cycle?" The Apex Sentinel's captain asked.

Flightstorm gave a small nod, still focusing most of his attention on his son. "He managed to trap himself in an escape pod and travel nearly fifty-thousand light-years until he landed on the planet Earth. Of course she worries for him," he said. "And I worry for him as well. He's driven by the desire to explore and examine things he hasn't seen before. It was that desire that got him inside the pod in the first place. Primus was watching over him when he landed in the midst of Autobots willing to be his temporary care-takers. But if he gets himself into a situation like that again, he might not land among Autobots."

Delta understood, or at least she believed she did, the concern Flightstorm and Cyberfrost felt for their son. He was adventurous even for a sparkling, and had an unusual habit of climbing everything he could. It was natural for his creators to fear for his safety, especially after being separated from him for nearly two mega-cycles once.

"We made it more difficult to inadvertently activate the ship's escape pods. He won't be leaving again unless you go with him," the golden femme reassured as they both continued watching the seekerlet work on his picture, which was beginning to look like both of the bots who had taken care of him on Earth, standing on a hill, walking side by side. "Does he still talk about them often?"

"He does," the XO answered. "They were good to him, managed to keep him from being too affected by our separation. He looked up to both of them, loved them like family." He chuckled again. "He still hopes we can go back and visit them."

"And you have to keep telling him, 'Maybe,'" Delta concluded, and gave Flightstorm a sympathetic look when he nodded. "Sometimes we must lie to those we love, in order to protect them from the truth."

Flightstorm sighed quietly. "I am aware, but that does not mean I need to like lying to my son."

"Never said you had to. You just have to make your son happy," the golden femme said, smiling faintly.

The conversation between the Apex Sentinel's commanding officers came to an end when the door to the bridge opened, and a Velocitronian femme stepped into the room.

The Velocitronians were one of the many groups of Cybertronians who had been encountered by the Apex Sentinel, and had joined its ranks two vorns ago, shortly after the massive ship arrived in the Andromeda Galaxy in search of resources. They were Cybertronians who had been living on the planet Velocition since the cycles of the Golden Age, and had brief dealings with the Autobots aboard the Ark after the population of Cybertron mostly dispersed. Their society had been built around speed, and no one on wheels could go faster than they could. Their builds tended to be tall and slim, or more streamlined than average Cybertronians, to support their love of speed and racing, habits they had since put on hold until Cybertron could be restored, and its great surface repaired and ready for racing courses to be built. They were the least numerous faction onboard, numbering only two-hundred and fifty. This was due to the fact Velocitron was a small, barren desert world. Those onboard were, in fact, seventy percent of the former population of Velocitron.

But despite their small numbers, they were still valuable to the ship, and knew how to mine every last ounce of metal out of rock. Many of those on the surface of the world below were members of the small faction.

The femme who stepped onto the bridge was Override, their leader.

She was red in color, and had yellow accents that turned into racing stripes when she was in her alt mode. Her optics were orange, and carried a hardened, cool look, with kindness just below the surface. The look of a seasoned leader who had been through tough trials. At thirty-nine feet in height, she towered over most femmes. This was mostly due to how Velocitronians were built less heavily than normal Cybertronians, and were less suited for direct combat. This would normally make her a liability in battle, but her speed, skill, and strength made up for her lack of durable armor. She was also considered to be 'Hot,' by the less mentally mature single mechs onboard, to the others, she was 'Downgraded' to stunning.

Whether or not she was aware of that fact, however, was a matter that some crew members discussed. The group that believed she wasn't aware argued that since energon and raw materials had been so scarce on Velocitron, relationships on that world had been exceptionally rare and almost frowned upon, and as a result had no idea she was attractive. And the group who believed she knew suggested that maybe she just wasn't interested in a relationship.

Delta hated having to listen to her bridge crew gossip about things that didn't involve them, or even mattered. Besides, Override was a leader like her, she likely viewed romance in the same manner that she did. Something that had to be sacrificed in order to keep the bots under their commands safe.

Override searched the room for a moment, then spotted Delta and Flightstorm and walked over to them. "Captain Delta, Commander Flightstorm," she greeted formally.

"Override," the two commanding officers greeted back in similar manners. It was clear the Velocitronians' leader was on the bridge on official matters, not social like she sometimes was.

"I just heard that a group of bots have been admitted to an infirmary, and three of them are my Velocitronians," Override said. "What happened down on the surface?"

"Their radiation levels went beyond the safe zone. They were taken back to the ship before they could suffer any harm, and are now being treated by the docs," Flightstorm answered.

The leader of the Velocitronians took a moment to process what the XO said, then asked, "When are the rest of the workers being evacuated?"

Delta shared a brief look with her SIC before refocusing on Override. "They aren't. Not for another cycle. The Apex Sentinel is short on resources, and right now this operation is our best option for getting us through the next jour."

Override did not react to being told her bots were not being taken out of danger, being the leader that she was. "The Apex Sentinel is always short on resources," she said, not with a tone of anger, frustration, or exasperation, just a factual statement. "But resources are still easy to come by on this vessel when compared to the situation on Velocitron."

"That may be," Delta conceded. "But the population onboard is also more than two-hundred times larger than Velocitron's was, even during its golden cycles. We go through a much larger amount of resources in a far shorter period of time."

The red femme was silent for a moment before she replied, "I see your reasons and understand them, but the safety of my Velocitronians are my chief concern. I formally request that they are evacuated before their radiation levels get any higher. The metal they have already recovered can be traded for enough energon to run the ship for at least a jour."

"Your request is denied," Delta said. "Traveling uses up a lot of energon, and we do not know if the next system we visit will have any exploitable resources. And as the one responsible for all onboard, I must make sure we have as much raw materials as we can get before moving to another system. I am sorry, I really am, but I must ask your bots to work for one more cycle before we evacuate them."

"When you asked to come aboard this ship, you and your Velocitronians agreed to become part of its crew and follow its commanding officers. This is an instance where you must trust us to bring your bots home safely," Flightstorm added.

Override looked between the two commanding officers of the Apex Sentinel, standing noticeably taller than both and looking down at them, but she nodded. "Of course, officers. I thank you for hearing my request."

Delta gave the other femme a mild look. "I have told you many times to not address us so formally, I only tolerated it earlier because you had a serious matter you wished to discuss."

"I am aware, I just can't help it," Override said, changing her tone to a slightly less serious one. "Optimus Prime awoke the leader inside of me when his Ark arrived on Velocitron, I cannot help but think back to that time and look at how he carried himself, and try to do what he did."

"He is an excellent leader, you can't find a better bot to learn from," Flightstorm said, silently recalling the brief time he had the privilege of meeting the Prime when he went to Earth. "But relaxing when not in on the battlefield does every bot good, whether they are Cybertronian or Velocitronian."

"Point taken," the red femme said, though it was unclear whether she planned on following the XO's subtle advice to let herself act normally. She changed the subject, "How is Cyberfrost handling her first class of students?"

While Override and the two commanding officers of the ship began to speak of another topic, Wildwing, who had been working on adding the blue and pink to the Arcee in his picture, suddenly froze in place, and he tilted his helm like whenever he encountered something that he had not seen before.

There was a funny feeling in his spark, one he hadn't felt before. It felt almost like sire's bond with him, but far, far stronger, more powerful, yet also somehow further away and untouchable. For a reason he did not know, it felt familiar to him, like a long-lost comfort or guardian. Wildwing found that strange.

The funny feeling changed, and felt almost like how sire felt when he was showing Wildwing how to do something, only in that funny, stronger-yet-further-away feeling. It felt like the feeling wanted him to look down.

Wildwing followed what the feeling told him and looked down, at the picture he was drawing. He had the outline of Arcee, but he hadn't colored her in very much, only one of her shoulder-joints and servos, as well as some of her chestplates.

The funny feeling became less noticeable when he looked at his unfinished picture of her, and Wildwing felt as if a gentle servo turned his helm to look at the part of the picture that Shadowstreaker took up. The feeling got stronger, and Wildwing felt a sense of urgency come from it, but he did not understand what the feeling was telling him. Was it saying? Was he supposed to go somewhere? Look for something important? Get back to carrier in time for rechargetime stories?

The feeling of a gentle servo turning his helm happened again, and Wildwing found himself looking at a view port close to the front of the bridge. Urgency filled him again, this time much firmer and clear in its meaning. There was something outside he needed to see. Something that had something to the nice mech who helped take care of him on Earth. And he needed to find it quickly.

Wildwing followed what the feeling told him and got up from where he was lying on his tank and drawing, and rushed to the view port as quickly as his little pedes could carry him.

From the other side of the room, Flightstorm noticed his son suddenly leap off the floor and run to the front of the bridge, leaving his picture behind without a second thought. "Wildwing?" He asked, stepping around Override so he could begin to follow the little mechling. "What's wrong?"

His son didn't answer, and continued running to the front of the bridge without changing course, even going so far as to go through the pedes of a bridge crew member and causing them to nearly trip to keep from stepping on him.

"Wildwing!" The grey and red mech said in a disapproving tone, both shocked and surprised his son would be as reckless as he had just been, as well as confused by his unusual behavior, but that was pushed aside while he focused on reaching Wildwing. "Stop _right_ there, young mech!"

Wildwing didn't stop, and he reached the far end of the bridge and climbed up onto the sill of a view port, looking in every direction almost frantically, as if searching for something.

By the time Flightstorm, now accompanied by Delta and Override, reached Wildwing, nearly the entire bridge was watching the scene.

Flightstorm picked his son up and looked at him sternly, while at the same time sending him emotions that let the little seekerlet know he was more concerned than angry. "Young mech, what has gotten into you?"

Wildwing turned his helm so he could continue looking out the view port, searched for a brief micro-klick, then pointed one of his little digits out into the void. "That."

Delta, Flightstorm, and Override looked at where the mechling was pointing, then blinked in surprise.

There, floating in the vacuum of space above and away from the Apex Sentinel, was a ship.

It was one, perhaps two, thousand kilometers from where the Apex Sentinel was parked in orbit. It was two-hundred and fifty meters in length, twice as tall, and thrice as wide, from what Flightstorm saw. And it appeared that what was in front of them was only a section of a spacecraft, since the back end of it was cleanly cut off, as if carved by a photon laser.

Delta looked at a sensor operator. "How come our scanners didn't pick that up?"

"Don't know, I just calibrated them a few breems ago," the operator replied. "It might be the solar radiation from the star is interfering with our instruments."

"Then calibrate them again. I want to know where that thing came from," the golden femme ordered, then looked at Wildwing as the operator began to follow her instructions. "How did you know that was there?"

"I didn't. But the funny feeling did," the sparkling answered innocently.

Flightstorm gave his son a confused look. "What funny feeling?"

"The one that wanted me to look out the window," Wildwing answered, as if that should have been obvious.

Before Flightstorm could wonder what the seekerlet meant, the operator Delta ordered to recalibrate the sensors reported, "Delta, there are Cybertronian life signals onboard that ship!"

The captain gave the operator her full attention. "How many?"

"Not sure exactly, the star's still causing some interference," the operator responded. "Best guess would be between two and five-hundred."

"Do we know how long that ship has been here?" Delta asked, tone making it clear this was her chief concern for the moment. The solar radiation coming from the star could prove lethal to a Cybertronian after just half a breem of exposure. If that ship had been floating aimlessly for nearly that amount of time, the bots onboard were as good as offline unless their ship had shielding, which Delta highly doubted it did in its present condition.

"Less than five klicks," another operator answered instead of the one Delta questioned. "Now that we recalibrated, my instruments are giving proper readings, and it appears they detected an unusual burst of energy a few klicks back, but didn't spike until now."

Then there was still time to get those bots off their vessel. "Flightstorm," the captain said. "Get a boarding force together and get everyone you find off that ship."

"At once," the XO acknowledged, then handed his son to Override. "Watch him while I'm gone, will you?" He smiled at the dumbfounded look the red femme gave him, then turned and ran through the door and out into the hallway beyond.

Delta watched her XO leave the bridge before she focused on Override and the mechling. She chuckled at how the veteran leader was looking at the sparkling in her servos like he was a member of a rust-based species. "He is just a sparkling, Override, there is no need to be nervous."

"Sparklings were more rare than _any_ resources on Velocitron, and I have, up until now, avoided real interaction with the sparklings onboard due to the simple truth that I have no idea what to do with them," the Veloctronian leader said, and looked at Delta. "What do I do?"

"You help me draw!" Wildwing answered for the captain, and opened a sub-space pocket and presented the red femme with a writing tool, essentially a pencil that didn't break.

Delta held back another chuckle as Override tentatively took the offered writing tool and walked to another part of the bridge with Wildwing, still looking completely lost as to what she should do.

She looked out the view port, at the section of ship slowly floating by, and at the shuttles that were already leaving the Apex Sentinel and moving toward the unknown chunk of vessel.

This was proving to be an interesting cycle.

* * *

><p>Flightstorm was riding in a troop transport on its way to the unknown section of ship, along with fourteen other shuttles surrounding the one he was in.<p>

There were other bots in the shuttle with him. Wraith Squad, a former mercenary unit that had been active in the first cycles of the war for Cybertron. They had done jobs for the highest bidder during the war, seeing the entire conflict as nothing more than a way to get quick credits. But when the economy of Cybertron collapsed, and the actions of the Decepticons came to light, they realized their foolishness and went neutral, but still took the occasional job from the Autobots in exchange for raw materials and energon.

The Squad's crimson-opticed tank, Gravelneck, sat next to Flightstorm, taking up two seats in the shuttle. He was a massive mech, well over twice the height of the XO, and had shoulder-joints as broad as Flightstorm was tall. His paint was dark green, and grey camouflage crisscrossed his frame, which gave him an aura of intimidation. He carried a Plasma Mortar, a weapon usually mounted on tanks, and he wielded it easily. But despite his appearance and immense size, he was a kindly mech, never yelling or losing his temper unnecessarily. Calling him a gentle giant off the battlefield was an accurate description of his personality.

Gravelneck's sparkmate, a femme seeker called Angel, was seated next to her mate. She was primarily dark pink in color, although the edges of her wings and shoulder-joints had purple accents. Her optics were blue, and carried the look of her unusually bubbly and outgoing personality. Her preferred method to solving situations was diplomacy, but the long combat knives attached to her upper pedes proved that she was not afraid of the use of violence if it was required.

Scorch, Angel's twin sister, was sitting on the floor of the shuttle, looking like she didn't really want to be on the tiny spacecraft. Being a twin, she had the same optics and frame as Angel, but she reversed her colors, partly to symbolize how different the two sisters were. While Angel was bubbly and friendly, Scorch was blunt, crude, and often rude to anyone she had not met before. She was also a pyromaniac, and carried a modified flamethrower she had taken from a Decepticon Pyro she had offlined.

Wraith's sharpshooter and hacker was a mech called Clockwork, a bot as dark as the night and as silent as the void. Flightstorm had only heard him speak twice, the first being when he spotted an asteroid heading for an unshielded organic home world, and the other when his favorite sniper rifle was destroyed. Currently, the XO had no idea where the mech was, but suspected he was sitting in the darkest corner of the shuttle.

The first of the two leading figures of the small squad was another femme seeker called Secura, who happened to be the elder sister of Angel and Scorch. Her optics were dull violet, and her only colors were different shades of grey, since her logic-driven processor found that decorating her frame was unnecessary. She did everything she could to watch out for her younger siblings, and the twin Photon SMGs she carried proved that.

The final member of Wraith Squad was Voltage, a Praxian who stood at thirty-two feet tall. He was mostly white in color, with dark blue accents on his shoulder-joints, servos, helm, and knee-joints. His light green optics carried less emotion than most, as well as regret and sadness just below the surface. He said little, just enough to issue orders, offer his input to conversations, and answer questions directed at him. He preferred to let his Disruptor Pistols and Rifle do most of the talking.

Flightstorm and Wraith Squad said nothing during their trip to the unknown ship. There was nothing that needed to be said, and Wraith Squad tended to be more guarded when in enclosed spaces with bots outside of their group, even when those bots were the XO of the vessel they currently called home.

Only a few short klicks after the shuttles left the Apex Sentinel, they arrived at the section of the ship and hovered within a few feet of the vessel, doors lined up with the various hallways of the cleanly-cut spacecraft.

"We're here, sir," the pilot of the shuttle carrying Flightstorm and Wraith Squad said, directing his statement to the XO. "We've got about fifteen klicks until the bots onboard start offlining from radiation, so I recommend getting back to the shuttles when that starts to happen, or you get everyone back here."

"Noted, pilot," Flightstorm said, standing up and deploying his Plasma Assault Rifle. He looked at Voltage. "Let's get to the bridge."

Voltage nodded at the implied order. "Move out, Wraiths," he said, and the Squad got to the pedes, and Clockwork materialized out of the shadows.

Flightstorm and Wraith Squad moved out at that, opening the shuttle door and stepping into the unknown ship. They had magnetized their pedes in preparation for what they thought would be a zero-g environment, but were surprised when they felt artificial gravity pull them down to the floor. The ship still had power, despite being cut into pieces.

The shuttle moved away, but would return when Flightstorm called for it, and they began moving toward the bridge was located, according to the scans they took of the ship while they were flying to it.

It took less than ten micro-klicks for them to encounter a bot.

A dull silver mech came from behind a bulkhead where he had taken cover, and opened fire on Flightstorm and Wraith Squad with a heavy rifle that had portions of it suspended around the main body of the weapon, its loud shots lost to the vacuum of space due to the lack of atmosphere.

Flightstorm saw the mech just in time, and fell to the floor to avoid the orange energy rounds the unidentified Cybertronian fired, then moved to a nearby bulkhead and used it as cover. And just in time, too, since the grey and red mech saw that the bullets fired by the unknown mech's weapon began to eat away at his cover.

Wraith Squad reacted in the same way he had, but they also all, apart from Gravelneck, returned fire, literally in Scorch's case, on the mech as they moved to the side like the XO had. But all their return fire was absorbed by an orange shield that flashed around the unknown mech, leaving him unharmed.

Flightstorm leaned around his cover and fired a short burst at their opponent, but it was absorbed by the mech's shield like the weapons fire of Wraith Squad had been. It was clear that lightweight weapons weren't going to take down his shielding.

Voltage, apparently, reached the same conclusion as he had, and turned to Gravelneck. _"Light him up!"_ He ordered through a unit comm.

The massive mech chuckled through the link, and stepped out of cover and powered up his Plasma Mortar. He fired three times after his heavy weapon powered up, and all three plasma projectiles impacted the unknown mech directly. But, amazingly, his shields held out against the weapon used primarily on tanks until Gravelneck fired another three shots and finally shattered the protective barrier and knocked the mech backward.

Before their unknown opponent could bring his lethal rifle to bear, Clockwork popped out from his cover and, without taking even a nano-klick to aim, fired his Phaeston Anti-Material sniper rifle, and reduced the mech's helm to scrap, and his offlined frame fell to the floor.

After the unknown mech was offlined, Flightstorm accessed the universal communications channel connected to every other neutral that had boarded the ship. "All neutrals, be advised, hostile Cybertronians are onboard this ship, and are equipped with shielding and powerful weaponry."

'Got it, Flightstorm,' or a similar statement was most of the responses the XO received, except for one.

_"Tell us something we don't know,"_ Duststorm, a femme who used to be a Decepticon energon seeker, and whose trine joined the Apex Sentinel only a dozen orbital-cycles ago, said. _"We just encountered a pair of them not far from our drop off."_

_"Any casualties?"_ Flightstorm asked, glancing at the offlined mech. He had been a surprisingly tough opponent. If he had chosen a better place to hide and used the element of surprise, he may have offlined one or two members of his squad. And two of them would be even deadlier.

_"Three. My trine and I are the only ones left out of our squad,"_ Duststorm reported, attempting to sound calm and emotionless like she had been taught in the few combat courses she had taken on the Apex Sentinel.

Flightstorm silently cursed. _"Roger that. Have you encountered any friendly bots?"_ He asked, hoping the question would distract the femme from the bots that offlined around her.

_"'Friendly' isn't a word I would use to describe them. We found a couple enslaving overlords in a cell,"_ she said, using her own name for the few Autobots she had met on the Apex Sentinel. She may have been a neutral, but she was still almost hostile to the Autobots, and viewed them as evil, power-hungry bots, while believed that the Decepticons were noble and just in their actions. Flightstorm blamed her views on the fact that the only channels she and her trine could access when out seeking energon off of Cybertron were Decepticon propaganda stations.

The XO chose to not point out that the bots Duststorm viewed as noble attacked the Collected last orbital-cycle for little reason. _"Did you say they were in a cell?"_

_"They are,"_ the energon seeker confirmed. _"I ordered us to move forward, though. No point freeing trash. We were looking for other cells that might have Decepticons in them, but the other two Cybertronians attacked us before we could really search."_

Flightstorm narrowed his optics even though the femme was on another part of the ship. "_Go back and release the Autobots you found. This is a rescue op, and you don't get to decide who we rescue based on what side they chose. After they're free, meet up with another unit and continue searching for other cells."_

Duststorm was silent for a moment, a sign the grey and red mech took as her holding back a protest. _"Understood,"_ she said, then left the universal channel.

The XO left the channel as well, while also adding a mental note to speak with Delta about Duststorm's behavior when they returned to the ship. He motioned to Wraith Squad to move up, and they did.

_"Autobots in containment cells, sounds like this was a prison ship,"_ Secura observed through the squad link.

_"Yeah, no slag, captain states-the-glaringly-apparent,"_ Scorch said. _"Already figured that out."_

_"I was merely thinking aloud, little sister," _the elder femme replied calmly. _"This vessel does not match any design I have seen before, and the mech from before was clearly not a member of the Autobot or Decepticon factions. I am wondering where this ship and its occupants came from."_

_"Save the thinking for later,"_ Voltage interjected, looking further up the hallway and seeing signs of battle, alone with an offlined mech surrounded by ashes and abandoned weapons, all of similar make as the one wielded by the bot they encountered earlier. _"We got a chassis up ahead."_

The seven bots reached the offlined mech, and Angel crouched next to the frame. _"He had his helm ripped off,"_ she said with a slightly disgusted look on her faceplate, having never gotten used to, or liked, seeing offlined Cybertronians. "_Least it was a quick offlining."_

_"Same with everyone else around him,"_ Gravelneck said, then gestured to the ashes and weapons around the Squad and Flightstorm. _"This is probably all that's left of his unit."_

_"So there was a battle onboard before this ship came here, and the bot we fought was a straggler,"_ Flightstorm said. His optics tracked the scorch marks along the walls, following where they led, and saw that a door leading to a dimly-lit room, their destination, was where it seemed the battle had continued. "_Looks like we can answer two questions at once. Move up."_

They did so, and quickly reached the door of what must have been the bridge, which, they noted, had been melted by an unknown weapon. They stepped inside the room and observed the carnage.

The offlined chassis' of bots that looked somewhat like the one in the hallway littered the floor, some shot, and some broken in close-quarters combat. The view port of the bridge let in little light, partly because the bow of the ship was facing away from the system's star, and partly because the view port had still adjusted itself to the light, despite the fact it didn't need to. The ship's sensors likely were being effected by the solar radiation of the system, like the Apex Sentinel's.

_"Clockwork,"_ Voltage said, keeping the observations of the mechs and femmes short. _"See if you can access one of these computers, get what you can off their database. But don't take too long, I don't want to be exposed to this star longer than we have to."_

The silent mech nodded and immediately went over to a terminal to follow his leader's orders, while the others began to search the room for anything else that might tell them where the ship came from, with Flightstorm and Secura walking toward the offlined bots, while Gravelneck followed the twin femme seekers to a part of the floor that had been melted to slag.

Flightstorm crouched down next to one of the offlined bridge crew. _"This one wasn't a soldier, he only had a servo-blaster. Probably a tech that didn't want to give up."_

_"He did not last long, then, if the same group that offlined the unit outside stormed the bridge,"_ Secura said. "_The bridge crew are typically not soldiers. They did not stand a chance against their attackers."_

_"No, they didn't,"_ Flightstorm agreed, looking at several other members of the offlined crew before turning back to the one he was still crouched next to. He pointed a digit at the first chassis. _"Shot."_ He pointed at another. _"Shot."_ And another. _"Helm crushed."_ And one last one. _"Neck snapped."_

_"Multiple methods of battle,"_ Secura noted. _"More than one team of attackers?"_

_"Most certainly,"_ Flightstorm said. _"But unless we find the bots who attacked this ship, we can't know for su-"_

_"I found one that doesn't look like the others,"_ Scorch said, having broke away from Gravelneck and Angel and moved further toward the front of the bridge.

The XO stopped crouching as Secura and the other members of Wraith Squad besides Clockwork walked toward Scorch. He followed after the oldest femme in the group, and rounded the corner of a terminal, and looked at the chassis of the bot that Scorch had found, apparently leaning against the station.

Flightstorm nearly jumped in shock when he recognized the jet black mech, and Voltage noticed this.

_"What is it, sir?"_ The white and blue Praxian asked, almost curiously.

The grey and red mech took a moment to respond, still stunned by seeing the mech. _"That's Shadowstreaker."_

_"The mech who helped take care of your bitlit last orbital-cycle?"_ Scorch asked.

_"Yes,"_ Flightstom replied, still looking down at the unmoving mech. How had he gotten out here? He had been on Earth, and it took mega-cycles to get there from here. Had the Autobots on that world attacked this ship when it arrived in their sector of space? No, that did not make sense. The Autobot forces on Earth did not have the firepower to cut a ship into pieces. The only answer that made sense in the XO's CPU was that Shadowstreaker had been captured by the bots on this ship, and had been part of a riot that led to the vessel's destruction.

But, this conclusion raised two new questions. How had Shadowstreaker been captured, and where was Arcee? It had been clear to he and his mate that those two were close, nearly inseparable, in love without realizing it. If Shadowstreaker was captured, the chances were Arcee had been as well.

Flightstorm opened his link to the universal communications channel. _"Neutrals, be on the lookout for a blue and pink Autobot femme. Average height, slim build, small stabilizer wings on her backplates, her name's Arcee."_

_"_The '_Arcee'?"_ A squad leader by the name of Pathline asked, an Autobot seeker whose unit had joined the Apex Sentinel when they were separated from their main force. _"She's a legend among the 'Bots."_

_"Legend for being a tyrant or offlining noble bots?"_ Duststorm asked through the channel, tone dripping with sarcasm and anger.

_"Lock it down,"_ Flightstorm ordered, adding another mental note about Duststorm. _"We are on the same side here. Now, return to searching for prisoners to release, and inform me if you find Arcee."_ He closed the link into the channel, and looked at the unmoving Shadowstreaker. His son would be devastated when he found out one, possibly both, of the bots who took care of him on Earth were gone. He had adored them, and still did. The only good thing he could see in this situation was that they could either send Shadowstreaker's frame back to Earth for a proper memorial, or repair him and send him off from the Apex Senti-

Flightstorm forced his thoughts to come to a halt as he continued looking at Shadowstreaker, and noticed that there was no visible damage to his frame. His armor was in need of a long visit to the washracks, but overall it was pristine.

The XO felt a nagging feeling in the back of his processor, and he looked at the frames of the bridge crew. They were shot with unnerving precision, had their armor dented or caved in from servos wielding immense physical strength, and the one in the hallway had been offlined with brutal indifference.

He looked back at the inert form of Shadowstreaker. The mech was a good shot, from what he had been able to tell, and certainly possessed the strength to offline bots with his bare servos. He did not, however, have a personality that supported unnecessarily brutal acts of violence. But there was something that could change a mech, make him do things he normally would not. And Shadowstreaker did appear to be completely unharmed, despite the number of offlined crew members nearby.

This situation was becoming familiar.

_"Scorch, did you check for a spark reading?"_ Flightstorm asked the blunt twin.

_"No, didn't think I needed to,"_ Scorch answered. _"If he was online, he would be moving, even if he was close to offlining."_

_"Please check,"_ Flightstorm said.

Scorch looked at the XO for a moment, then activated a scanner and waved it over Shadowstreaker's frame. She raised her optic ridges marginally. _"Huh. He's a lucky aft. Still got a spark pulse,"_ she said. _"Never would have thought he'd still be online, since he's not responsive."_

_"That's probably the reason he's online in the first place,"_ Angel said, thinking of the mech they offlined earlier. _"Why is he down in the first place?"_

_"Lack of energon,"_ Flightstorm said, answering Angel's question before Scorch could even open her mouth to reply.

The blunt twin nodded. _"Yes… His energon's almost gone,"_ she confirmed slowly. _"But how the frag did you know that?"_

_"Long story, I'll tell you later, if I am correct on something,"_ Flightstorm said as Clockwork virtually appeared next to Voltage. "_Did you get any recoverable data?"_

The sharpshooter nodded.

_"Was there any security camera footage in what you recovered?"_ The XO asked.

Clockwork nodded again.

_"I will want to review that when we get back."_ The grey and red mech looked at Gravelneck. _"We're leaving, carry Shadowstreaker out, please."_

_"Of course,"_ the huge mech said, and placed his Plasma Mortar on his backplates and picked up the unmoving black Triple-Changer, then started to walk toward the door, followed closely by his mate and her sister, with the other Squad members following further behind.

Flightstorm moved out of the way of Gravelneck, then accessed the universal channel again. "Our time's up, neutrals. Release what prisoners you can get to, then make your way back to the shuttles, we're going back to the ship," he said, then closed his link without waiting for replies.

The XO turned and walked in the direction of the door, moving to catch up with Wraith Squad and the unresponsive Shadowstreaker. The mech was nearly out of energon, but if what Flightstorm suspected happened to the Triple-Changer was more than a suspicion, then he would be fine after he was given energon. And after that, he would be ready to answer the questions Flightstorm had for him.

Like how the _pit_ he ended up on a ship nearly two-hundred thousand light-years from Earth.

* * *

><p>I became aware that I was online again, and lying down on a hard surface. I could sense a lot of movement around me, and hear voices speaking in the language of Cybertron, but I could not hear the exact words spoken. And for the most part, I did not care. The excruciating emptiness I felt in my spark drowned out what I heard and felt. Arcee was gone.<p>

I opened my optics, and was met by the sight of a metal ceiling far above me, almost as high as the Safe's. It must have been built to allow larger Cybertronians access to the room.

Blinking once at the sight of the ceiling, I sat, noting how I was lying on a berth, and examined the room I was in.

It was an infirmary. Massive in size. White. Sterile. Large, open space near the back for Cybertronians of the Destroyer class, along with a door that was built for bots of their size. Perfect for treating patients of all types. I was in the center of the room, and there were berths all around mine, each one occupied by either an Autobot or Decepticon. They looked to be in perfect health, but seemed weak. Possibly low on energon.

Medics and doctors were moving to different areas of the room, checking on bots on the berths or the larger Cybertronians in the back. None of them were the same color like the Paraions tended to be. That was good. And they were nearly overwhelmed by the sheer number of patients in their infirmary, judging by how they never seemed to stay with a patient long enough to utter more than a few words before moving on.

I slid my pedes off the berth, stood up, and made my way toward the door. It was clear my presence would not be missed by the staff, and I needed to find out where I was. I had been onboard the Hammer when everything went black. This was certainly not the Hammer. The ship must have left sub-space and been found while I was inactive.

Patients looked up at me curiously as I passed by, but I did not look back at them and continued on. It took nearly half a klick to reach the door from my berth, not long, considering how large the room was.

But before I reached the enormous entrance, one femme and two mech seekers blocked my path.

They were all similar in height at around thirty feet. Each of them were black and purple in color, with noticeable changes in how they used the two dark colors, and their optics were similar shades of red. Their armaments were minimal and underpowered for bots of their size. They were energon seekers, designed more for recon than combat.

"XO says to keep you here, Autobot," the femme said, as if the name tasted sour. Her tone suggested deep resentment and open hostility toward the Autobots, resentment and hostility born from being fed biased information. And her trinemates seemed to have the same beliefs as her, considering their wings twitched twice at the femme's words, a sign of challenge among seekers. They likely only had access to Decepticon propaganda during the war.

I regarded the femme evenly. "I do not know you or your XO, therefore their orders to not carry weight for me." My voice was dull, flat, empty. It sounded how I felt now that my spark was gone.

"He saved your life. You should be grateful, _bot,_" the femme said with a slight hiss in her tone she was attempting to keep hidden.

"I have been held captive for an unknown length of time," I said. "Being contained to a single room, by order of a mech whose loyalty I do not know, is not acceptable at this time."

The femme gave a faint scoff. "Hmph, typical Autobot. Always trying to get your way, expecting everyone to bow down and worship the ground you walk, never listening to the bots whose backplates they used to build their cushy lifestyles, and labeling anyone who stands up to their oppression as a 'Terrorist.'"

I did not react to her statement. Her hostility toward the Autobots was clouding her judgement, her reasoning. It would only be logical to not take her words personally. "Your hatred of the Autobots originates from prolonged periods of time where you only had access to Decepticon channels, and only heard the stories they gave to you. It has led you to believe the Decepticon cause is just and good, and that its commander is noble. Both of these conclusions are false."

The wings of all three trine members twitched, and one of the mechs bared his dentas in a half snarl, though they seemed to be covering up surprise that I knew part of their background. "It doesn't matter where we were during the war. We still knew what nobility was when we saw it."

"The atrocities committed by Megatron and the Decepticons during the war disprove your claim," I said.

The femme narrowed her optics at me like I had personally insulted her. "Atrocities? It was total war! There's always collateral damage in war, whether you're leading a revolution, or trying to keep your _slaves._"

Hmm. Decepticon propaganda must, evidently, be focused on convincing those listening to its channels that the Autobots are to blame for every war crime they committed. This femme genuinely believes the Autobots were trying to enslave the entire Cybertronian race, and is completely unaware of how wrong she was. It was almost tragic. "Collateral damage is caused by unforeseen circumstances coming into play, which complicate a battle and require immediate solutions. These solutions are not always perfect, and innocents are sometimes caught in the crossfire. This is, indeed, a fact of war. But the crimes of which I speak were not accidental. They were planned operations carried out by the very Decepticons you believe noble."

"The pit are you rambling about?" The second mech asked, tone suggesting disbelief.

My gaze shifted to him, not blinking as I stared into his suddenly nervous-looking optics. "Vorn zero, orbital-cycle fifty-two of the war: Decepticon forces from the 17th Infantry and 7th Armored Division assault the femme-dominated neutral city-state of Uraya. Nine-hundred and eighty-eight thousand femmes, and more than two-hundred thousand sparklings, are offlined over the course of two solar-cycles before Autobots led by Optimus Prime come to its defense and halt the invasion," I said, recalling the information I read in a data pad once. "Megatron's officially issued reasons for the attack: Preventing an attack from Autobot forces, and attempting to apprehend caste system supporters hiding in the city."

The femme shrugged. "Seems like a good enough reason for me. I would've attacked anyone who was plotting to attack me, too. The caste system supporters would have just been a bonus." Her wings, along with those of her trinemates, twitched in amusement.

"Unofficial, and suspected real reasons for assault: Access to large, genetically diverse population of femmes, to be used when Decepticon numbers fell and replacements on the frontlines were required on short notice. Aftermath of battle: Vast majority of femme and sparkling population side with Autobot cause, mildly reducing the difference in troops between the two factions," I added in monotone.

The wings of all three bots shrank back in distress and mild shock, but the femme shook her helm in refusal. "No, that's not something the Decepticons would do. That assault prevented an army of Autobots from attacking Vos and killing its civilians to devastate the number of seekers in the Decepticon ranks. It saved more than fifty-million bots from being offlined, as well as kept a critical shipyard from being sabotaged. You Autobots tried to cover up your plot by saying the majority of the offlined femmes were unarmed."

She was in denial. She didn't want to believe the truth. And that was understandable, with the example I gave. It was a battle that still had many unanswered questions. Accepting the least disturbing version of a story was common, both among Cybertronians and my former race.

She and her trine required a different example.

"Vorn seven, orbital-cycle twenty-one of the war: City-state of Tarn is nearly destroyed by missile-strikes from Vos, and forty-four percent of Vos is leveled by a three multi-megatron Fusion missiles from orbit. Total casualties amount to nearly three-hundred million, the majority of which from Tarn. Conclusions reached by several Decepticon investigation teams: Autobot saboteurs took control of Vos missile defenses and bombarded Tarn, then called in Fusion missiles-strikes from orbiting Autobot war crusier to cover up their activities."

The femme and mechs glared at me. "I would be very careful what you say about Vos, Autobot," the femme said, voice a dangerous whisper.

"Findings of Autobot Intelligence: Coded transmissions intercepted from Decepticon governor Shockwave's office suggest Decepticons ordered Vos Air Commanders to bomb Tarn, in order to prevent the officials from breaking away from the Decepticons after finding their rule to be cruel and unjust, then destroyed a portion of Vos to prevent Air Commanders involved from speaking the truth. Aftermath of bombings: Tarn is declared a wasteland, and inhabitants of Vos call for air-strikes on Iacon and other Autobot city-states. City-states of Vos, Altihex, and Perihex join the Decepticon cause willingly, Decepticon ranks swell with new recruits in the form of seekers from Vos, while Autobot territories are ravaged by three mega-cycles of hit-and-run strikes from furious seekers from other parts of Cybertron."

The trine's wings fell in horror, and the mechs exchanged an uncertain look, but the femme shook her helm stubbornly. "No, no that's not possible. The Decepticons wouldn't destroy an entire city-state just because they didn't agree with them, and they wouldn't_ bomb_ their own city just so they could blame the Autobots."

"Then explain why the survivors of the Vos bombing joined the Autobots, or how the Autobots were able to send Fusion missiles when their forces were busy attempting to take Crystal City at the time of the bombings," I stated.

The femme had no answer.

"Centi-vorn two, vorn nineteen, orbital-cycle eighty-one of the war: Decepticon assault of the Hydrax Plateau Autobot spaceport ends in the defeat of Autobot defenders, and the surrender of all civilians working within the spaceport," I said. "However, all civilians are found offline following the battle, totalling sixteen-thousand in number. Official investigations conclude the workers were caught in the fire during the assault, or targeted by Autobot troops, in order to prevent Decepticon numbers from increasing even marginally."

The femme nodded her helm, looking relieved that the conversation was not focused on Vos or Tarn. "Yes, the Decepticons held memorials for the civilians offlined in the battle." She attempted to glare at me, but it was weak. "But you Autobots accused the Decepticons of being the ones who targeted the civilians, even when they did more for the families the fallen left behind than the Autobots did."

"The truth the Decepticons covered up, and was only discovered in the final cycles of the war by Autobot Intelligence: Following Autobot defeat, all civilian workers were executed on sight, in order to further tarnish the Autobots' reputation by blaming them for the needless offlinings, while at the same time preventing Autobot forces from receiving shipments of resources from the Hydrax Plateau, and honoring those offlined. Aftermath of assault: Decepticons gain the willing support of the city-states of Tryron and Liegus, Autobots lose the ships and resources of the Hydra Plateau."

The three trinemates shared looks, but the femme continued to shake her helm in denial. "But… But that's not something Lord Megatron would order. He wouldn't offline a bunch of unarmed civilians after he'd won a battle. His moral code from being a gladiator wouldn't allow him to."

It was time to make her see. "Centi-vorn ninety-seven, vorn thirty-four, orbital-cycle three of the war: A plot to poison the Core of Cybertron is thwarted, saving the lives of the twenty-billion bots that remain alive on the planet. Story given by Megatron, and widely accepted by his followers: Autobot forces attempted to place antimatter bombs in the Core, to destroy the planet they could no longer control."

The femme looked at me, optics almost asking me to stop talking. "Don't say what I think you're going to say. Do-"

"The truth," I interrupted. "Known only to the Autobots until after the end of the war: Nineteen divisions of Decepticon infantry, armor, and seekers attack the Core, intending to poison it with Dark Energon, a rare, twisted form of energon that corrupts anything it touches. Megatron's reasons: To dominate the will of all Cybertronians who were not given countermeasures like his Decepticons. And only Optimus Prime's tense negotiations with the Decepticon leader, even during the heat of battle, prevented Megatron from succeeding."

None of the trine said anything, though their wings spoke for them. They were trying to deny the truth, to not see how the dots connected, to make themselves go back to believing the lies of Megatron without a second thought. They were distressed, shocked, lost and feeling betrayed. The truth can hurt at times, but knowing about it was always necessary.

"The Decepticons have been keeping things from you since they started the war, and its so-called 'Noble' leader has betrayed you again and again," I stated. "Everything you blame the Autobots for, was not caused by them."

The trinemates said nothing, just kept up their silence.

I didn't waste anymore time, and walked around the femme to get to the door. I had spent an almost illogical amount of time showing them how their trust was misplaced. It was only logical to leave them to their thoughts.

They didn't try to stop me from leaving this time.

I reached the door, and it opened to reveal the area beyond.

It was a hanger, an immense one that stretched at least seventy kilometers in either direction, with shielding sealing one end of it, which seemed to lead into space. The ceiling was about two kilometers above my helm, and I was standing on a walkway an equal distance from the floor and the opposite side of the hanger. A tram system was attached to the walkway, and any walkway in sight, likely made for convenient travel throughout the vessel.

Bots of all sizes and types were moving around me. Destroyers, Annihilators, Brutes, Pyros, seekers and average Cybertronians who hadn't had their spark transferred into a frame built for war were transporting materials, making repairs, or constructing buildings throughout the hanger, between the many walkways that crisscrossed the area. Judging by the mixture of Autobots and Decepticons, I was on a neutral ship. A large one.

Two younglings, one Praxian one seeker, less than a quarter of my height ran toward me, interrupting my observations as I watched them go by, not attempting to get out of their way.

They did not seem to mind having to go around a large Triple-Changer, and continued running next to each other, laughing as they played a game of some sort, not even giving me a glance. And it seemed that most bots on the walkway behaved like the sparklings in that regard. I wasn't getting any looks from any of the bots walking by me. No distrustful looks. No curious glances. No acknowledgement at all, not even from the sparkling and younglings, which, I noted, were very high in number, along with femmes in various stages of the carrying process. They all just continued on with their business.

However, that wasn't surprising. This ship was clearly vast, and its population equal to a small city. If one was to stop and look at every Cybertronian they hadn't seen before for more than a micro-klick, they would end up standing in the same place for solar-cycles. An illogical waste of time.

I turned away from where the younglings ran off and started to walk in the opposite direction, toward a nearby tram that was taking passengers. I did not know where it was going, on account that I had never been on this ship before and was unfamiliar with its transport systems, but it led somewhere other than here, and that was my first step to finding the bridge, the first destination I would seek out. It was the most likely place to find out how I came to be onboard this ship, and where, exactly, this vessel was located in the universe. Finding out that information took priority.

"Shadowstreaker!" A voice behind me called over the sound of the crowd and the seekers passing above, sounding distinctly familiar.

I paused. The bot had called me by name, my real name. I had not shared my name with any neutrals besides Wildwing and his creators. And since the voice was a mech's, it could only be Flightstorm, and that in turn could mean one thing. I was on the Apex Sentinel, the ship he had been XO of since before Wildwing was born.

I turned around and looked up. A grey and red Cybertronian jet was hovering above the walkway, nose pointed down at me.

The jet transformed, turning into the familiar form of Flightstorm and landing a short distance away from me. "It's been a long time, Shadowstreaker."

"It has," I said plainly.

Flightstorm didn't seem to take note of my lack of enthusiasm. "I honestly didn't expect to see you again after we left with Wildwing," he said. "And I most _certainly_ didn't expect to find you surrounded by offlined bots, onboard the drifting wreck of a ship in the Path Kethona galaxy."

So that was where I was. "And I did not anticipate finding myself there."

"No, you definitely didn't," the grey and red seeker agreed. He gave me a serious look. "And that begs the question of how you ended up getting all the way out here."

I didn't answer, mostly because I was trying to keep myself from thinking about what I did to end up here, and what caused me to willingly activate my Protocol. But, no matter how much I tried, I couldn't ignore the agonizing, empty feeling in my spark.

"Yeah, I figured it was one of those stories," Flightstorm said, appearing to read my distress despite the fact my faceplate was blank. "That's why I cleared out a room for us to talk. I ordered Dustrom and her trine to keep you in the infirmary, so I could come and get you as soon as you onlined. Seems she didn't do her job very well."

I ignored the majority of his statement. "Lead on, then."

Flightstorm looked at me for a brief micro-klick, then nodded and transformed, before activating his jets and flying in the opposite direction I had been walking.

I transformed and flew after Flightstorm, staying back so he could lead the way to the location he wanted us to go.

After flying for a few klicks, Flightstorm landed in front of a door on a walkway a few levels above the one the infirmary was on.

I landed next to him as he opened the door, revealing a small room with a table, a few chairs, and a video screen on the far end. Very simple space.

Flightstorm stepped into the room and gestured for me to enter with his helm, then closed the door once I entered the room. "Have a seat, and then we'll start," he said as he walked over to an energon dispenser on the wall and began filling two cubes.

I walked to the table at sat down at the end, the furthest possible position away from the door. It gave me a clear view of the room, allowed me to watch the door at all times without looking like I was, and would give me time to analyze any other Cybertronian that entered the room and react accordingly. Flightstorm was one of the only bots I knew onboard this ship, and paranoia was the logical response to entering a confined, unfamiliar place after being kept captive for a lengthy period of time. And it never hurt to be prepared for attack.

Flightstorm finished filling the cubes and turned around. He paused when he saw the position I had chosen at the table, and raised one optic ridge slightly. "You're safe here, Shadowstreaker," he said as he moved to the table and sat in the seat across from me. He set one of the cubes down in front of me. "You don't need to worry about a surprise attack. Relax."

"I have not had the luxury of relaxation for a long time," I said, sliding the cube Flightstorm offered me off to the side. My energon levels did not feel low, like they had been when my lights went out. I likely had been given energon after being brought here. There was no need for it right now.

"Since we found you onboard a prison ship of a design we've never seen before, I am not surprised to hear that," Flightstorm said, taking a small sip from his cube. He looked at me, a curious yet serious look in his optics. "Let me start this conversation by asking how you ended up there in the first place."

"The explanation to that question requires an explanation," I said.

The former Decepticon looked around the empty room, then back at me. "I've got time."

I considered not telling him the story, since it would eventually lead to topics I did not wish to discuss, such as Arcee… And how she was gone…

I locked down that thought and decided to tell Flightstorm the story. Not desiring to speak about past events was caused by sorrow, anger, or pain someone experienced during those events. Those were emotions. I was driven by logic now, I had no use for emotions.

"Very well," I said. "I am not able to provide an exact time or date, but sometime ago, our sensors detected unknown Cybertronian technology located on a moderately-sized asteroid passing Earth. I investigated, along with Jetfire and Springer. And during that investigation we discovered a research station built throughout the interior of the asteroid. From what information we were able to uncover, the station was constructed to study a ship at the core of the asteroid. The Infinite Reverence, the personal ship of the Thirteen."

"_The_ Thirteen?" Flightstorm asked. "How did you determine that?"

"We found data logs from the leading researcher on the station. We also spoke to the primary AI of the ship, he informed us of its name," I replied.

The grey and red mech's optic ridges rose in surprise. "Ah, that would do it," he said, sipping from his cube again. "Go on."

"It was just before we spoke to the AI, that we encountered a spherical computer. It was taken over by the AI of the ship, and it… Stunned me, for lack of an appropriate word," I said. "It transferred something to me, showed me images and visions I cannot see long enough to decipher."

"That doesn't sound useful," Flightstorm deadpanned, though his optics had an interested look in them. "It sounds more like a hinderance."

"The purpose behind the transfer, is yet to be seen," I agreed. "Only one of the visions I was given during the transfer was clear."

Flightstorm sipped from his cube. "And what was it?"

"It was of a being of great power and evil speaking to me, and referring to me as 'Xel'Tor,'" I answered.

The former Decepticon gave me a confused look. "That isn't a title I've heard before. What does it mean?"

"That, I do not know," I admitted flatly. "The name does not appear in any of our records, and Optimus Prime copied a large portion of the Hall of Records before the Ark left Cybertron. All that we could learn about the title is that it is not a word in any known language."

"So it's an old title, then. Old enough that the Hall of Records has no data on it," Flightstorm concluded, giving me a mildly humorous look. "And here I thought you were a younger mech."

I did not share his amusement. "It is an old title, and an important one, to those who are aware of its significance, and know the identity of its holder."

The grey and red seeker seemed to understand what I meant. "The ship we found you on, the bots onboard captured you because they somehow found out you're this… Xel'Tor?" He asked, although it sounded more like a statement.

"You are correct, in a way," I responded. "The organization they were a part of captured me, but the vessel you discovered me on was not part of that operation."

"Alright," Flightstorm said. "So how did this… Organization, capture you?"

I did not respond immediately. I was trying to not think about how they captured me. Arcee and Optimus would be brought up if I did, and they were something else I was trying to keep blocked from my CPU. Thinking about them would only cause me more pain than I was already in. "We received a message from my carrier, informing us that she had left a 'Gift' for me at a set of coordinates that were sent with the message."

"And why would something from your carrier be unusual?" Flightstorm asked, interrupting me from continuing. "Contacting their creations is what carriers do, and with unnerving skill. I_ still_ get an occasional message from mine, and her transport used a space bridge to flee to NGC 3212 in the Eridanus Cluster."

"My carrier is Solus Prime," I stated without emotion.

The former Decepticon's optic ridges rose again. "Ah. Well, that would make it important," he said. "That wasn't brought up during my brief stay on Earth."

"It was not relevant at the time," I said.

"Apparently not," Flightstorm said. "Continue."

"I went to investigate the coordinates, but they were a trap," I said, leaving out any mention of Arcee and Optimus. Didn't want to think about them. "The organization that captured me knew I am Solus Prime's son, and used that as a way to lure me out from our base, and into their ambush."

Flightstorm looked at me oddly, like he was filing a piece of information away for later use. "You keep referring to the bots that captured you as members of an organization," he observed. "What do you know about them?"

"Little. They are called 'Paraions,' an organization founded by a mech by the name of Extremis. Their main base is on a mostly aquatic world with two suns," I replied. "They have access to a number of Cybertronian databases, as well as vast amounts of technology from the Age of the Primes. They are studying this technology constantly, and have made more progress in recreating it than scientists of the Golden Age ever did."

"That is… An impressive feat, all things aside," the grey and red seeker said. He looked at me curiously. "If they had access to that technology, why did they pursue and capture you?"

"Because I am the Xel'Tor," I responded. "I am 'The Key to many Doors,' in the words of Extremis."

"So, they took you so you could... Unlock something," the former Decepticon said. "What was it?"

"It was more than a single object," I said. "Extremis took me to a complex built by the Primes, a structure so massive it was built into the crust of the planet of their headquarters. Eighty-six point four percent of its systems were restricted unless accessed by the Xel'Tor. By me. Thirteen percent of the systems could only be used by a Prime or I. Only a total of point four percent of its systems were unlocked for any Cybertronian to access."

Flightstorm seemed to understand the significance of that piece of information. "They have eclipsed the Golden Age in technology, and they only have a small fraction of the systems available. No wonder they wanted you. If you had unlocked those systems, their technology would have jumped forward light-years." He froze and looked up at me. "You did leave those systems restricted, didn't you?"

"I do not possess the knowledge of how to access any system in that complex. I could not have unlocked any of its systems even if I had wanted to," I answered. "But even so, I did not wish to help them."

"They probably didn't like that very much," Flightstorm said.

Flashes. A moleculon knife cutting my shoulder-joint. Fists impacting my helm. A plasma torch melting armor. Maniacal laughter.

I blinked the memories away. "No. They did not."

"Is that when you were transferred to the prison ship we found you on?" The grey and red seeker questioned, the look in optics suggesting he knew, or at least suspected, that I had been interrogated on the ship.

"It was," I said.

"And how long were there?" Flightstorm asked.

"I do not know," I replied. "Time is difficult to track when in a cell."

Flightstorm nodded. "Alright," he said, sipping from his cube. "What about the others we found on the ship? Do you know any of them?"

"No. All prisoners aboard that vessel were kept separated. And I am not familiar with any of them," I said. "How many others did you bring here, along with myself?"

"Three-hundred and thirty-six, according to the docs treating them in the infirmary you were in," Flightstorm answered.

"There used to be many more than that," I said. A feeling of guilt entered me. In a way, I was responsible for why most of the prisoners were not down in the infirmary, recovering. But at the same time, many captives most certainly would have found being offline would have been preferable to continuing to be a prisoner of Scalpel. And, although my reasons for activating my Protocol were not noble, I also was inadvertently the reason there were freed prisoners in the first place.

I could not decide if those two technicalities canceled each other out or not.

"We guessed as much," Flightstorm said. "So, how did the ship end up becoming a drifting piece of scrap?"

"I escaped my cell. A guard got distracted, and I took advantage and took his weapon, fought my way through the ship," I explained, leaving out the details of my Quriomous Protocol. Mentioning it would mean explaining what it was, and why I willingly activated it. Not something I wished to think about. "I eventually reached the bridge. My weapons ran out of ammunition then, and I had to resort to close-quarters combat. At some point, the ship's FTL drive was activated, but a station or another ship opened fire before it could fully power up. The reason for this, I suspect, is to prevent their technology from falling into the possession of others. But the important fact is, the ship, despite being reduced to the state you discovered it, went to FTL, and eventually made it to the same system as the Apex Sentinel, where you found the others and I."

The former Decepticon finished his energon and rested against the back of his chair. "That's quite the story."

"It was worse to live through," I said.

"I don't doubt that," Flightstorm said. "But." He raised two digits briefly before lowering them again. "There are two things that I feel you didn't tell in full."

I did not change the emotionless look on my faceplate. "What do you feel I have kept from you?"

Flightstorm regarded me flatly. "Well, first off, you didn't go to investigate the coordinates in the message by yourself, like you said. Optimus Prime and Arcee were with you."

If I had not felt empty, I would have reacted to Flightstorm's statement with surprise. But since I did feel empty and hollow, I just kept giving him a blank look. "How are you aware of this fact?"

Flightstorm pressed a button next to him on the table, and the video screen began to play security camera footage of me in the holding cell on the Hammer, audio included. "We recovered some information from their computers when we found you. It took twenty bots on the bridge more than a breem to give each file a brief look, but they finally found something you were in. Going by the time of each piece of footage, you were onboard that ship for twenty-two solar-cycles. Most of that time was spent being interrogated, but there are a few points that are interesting." He paused the footage just before Scalpel could begin an interrogation session, and gave me his full attention. "But we'll get back to those in a moment. Tell me how you _really_ got captured."

My emotions threatened to seep into my mood, but I forced them out as much as I could. "We were ambushed by drones. They nearly shot Optimus Prime's servo off, and Arcee… Her spark was almost pierced. Our communications were jammed, and Arcee was running out of time, so I... Told Optimus to take her and run out of range of the jammer, so that he could get in contact with the others and return her to base. I stayed behind and fought, and was eventually captured."

"And Optimus and Arcee?" Flightstorm asked.

I didn't reply. I couldn't. My mouth stopped working, and I struggled to maintain my stoic mentality. My spark, my _everything_, was gone. "They are… Gone."

"I see," Flightstorm said with the odd look in his optic from earlier. He was taking mental notes. The former Decepticon let the footage start playing again, but quickly started to fast-forward through it, then stopped when Scalpel entered the cell again after I had spat in his optic, and was slowly revealing his knowledge of my feelings for my spark. "Let's go back to those interesting points I mentioned. The first one's coming up."

I watched the footage play mutely, though it was making me relive the insane mech's speech. The sudden knowledge of my feelings for Arcee, the casual taunts, the mocking sympathy, the… News. That alone wasn't enough to break my emotionless behavior, but when I saw my Quriomus Protocol activate, I almost lost it. Not from seeing from the other side how terrifying it was, but because it made me feel like I was experiencing the loss of my spark again. It was painful to even think about.

The grey and red seeker paused the video again when the image of me offlined the first four guards within two micro-klicks. "Goes on like that until the camera went out about a klick later," he said, looking at me patiently, as if waiting for an explanation.

I took a moment to form a reply, then started my answer, "That was my-"

"Quriomus Protocol activating," Flightstorm interrupted factually, flat look on his faceplate.

I blinked in curiosity. How did he know what the Protocol was? "How do know about the Quriomus Protocol?"

"You're not the only one who has one, you know," the former Decepticon replied, tapping the side of his helm and giving me a knowing look. "You and I, we're probably the only two mechs alive who have it lodged in our helms."

"When did you realize it?" I asked, suppressing my surprise. The odds of a mech having the Quriomus Protocol was one in one point seven trillion. The odds of there being living two mechs with the Protocol, with the Cybertronian population as low as it was, were astronomically low.

"Long time ago, before 'Frost and I really even knew each other," Flightstorm answered. "It was only about four or five orbital-cycles after we left Cybertron, and we were on a full name basis with each other, barely talked. Our transport landed on a planet to resupply on energon and metal for repairing our ship. We chose a bad place to land. Cybertronian marauders were using the planet as a base to attack any ships that entered the system. They attacked us as soon as we landed, targeted only the mechs, tried grabbing any femme they saw. I was calm and professional throughout the battle, right up until one of our attackers went to grab Cyberfrost." He looked off to the side, as if recalling an event. "In that moment, I felt anger the likes of which I've never experienced before or since, and it felt like I descended into a dream. When I became fully aware again, I was standing over Cyberfrost, and the marauders were all offline. Later, when our medic was examining me, he found I had Imprinted on her a jour prior." He looked back at me. "So, when did your Protocol first activate?"

I didn't want to respond, to think about something that involved the femme I loved so much, but I had little say in the matter. All I could do was keep my thoughts to a minimum. "It was the solar-cycle before I was captured. A human terrorist group named MECH was active at the time. Their goal was to trap and study one of us on a… Thorough level. They had not been able to truly succeed, until they allied themselves with a femme by the name of Airachnid, and captured Arcee. My Protocol activated then, and I destroyed them before they could begin to 'study' her."

Flightstorm nodded. "So you Imprinted on Arcee?"

I set my jaw at the reminder. I _had_ been trying to not think of her. "Yes, I did."

"And do you understand the significance of that?" The grey and red seeker asked.

"I do," I said flatly. The explanation I received from Optimus, Jetfire, Ratchet, and Moonracer wasn't something you forgot, even without a perfect memory.

"Do you? Do you _really_ know?" Flightstorm asked, a searching look in his optics. "Or do you just know what the Autobots have on it from the Hall of Records?"

I blinked in mild puzzlement. What other sources of information about Imprinting were there? "I do not understand. What else is there to know?"

Flightstorm chuckled without humor. "Ha, you'll be surprised," he said, finishing off the energon in his cube. "Firstly, Imprinting isn't initiated by the mech or the femme… Well, technically it is, but that is a topic of debate among our medics and scientists. From our findings, and, with some of us, personal experience, the Imprint is not a conscious decision like some data pads say. The spark acts on its own."

"That does not change my understanding of Imprinting," I informed. Jetfire said I had Imprinted either consciously, or my spark had Imprinted on her without my knowledge. The information Flightstorm was giving me was not something I had not heard before.

"It isn't supposed to," Flightstorm said. "It only confirms the theory that bots do not have control over Imprints, they happen on their own."

"Then what is the point in discussing Imprinting?" I asked, not wishing to talk about something relate to Arcee. It physically hurt. "It is illogical to discuss something when there is no new information being exchanged."

The grey and red seeker saw through my words. "You don't want to talk about something that, for you, is associated with Arcee."

"How would you feel, if the femme you loved more than anything in this life was taken from you, before you even had the chance to tell her how you felt?" I asked, voice dead. "And you saw the footage, what he said, she's gone."

"But is she really gone?" Flightstorm asked in turn, tone suggesting he knew something I did not. He rewound the footage back to when Scalpel entered my cell for the first time, but kept it paused. "This is the start of the second point I wanted you to look at. Take a look at the way that Scalpel mech holds himself. See the arrogance? The twisted giddiness? The way he is looking at you like you'll be another victim?"

"Yes," I replied without looking at the screen. I had seen that the first time I saw Scalpel, I did not need to be informed of what I had seen.

The former Decepticon moved the footage ahead to when the Cortical psychic patch failed to get the information Extremis wanted Scalpel to recover from my helm. Whatever that was. "Now look at this one. See how that arrogance has turned to frustration, the giddiness to rage? Or how he now views you as an annoyingly difficult target?"

"I do," I responded, again without giving the screen a glance. No point in looking at something I had already seen.

Flightstorm skipped ahead in the footage again, stopping it at the exact moment Scalpel entered my cell on the second cycle. "Now, do you see how he's carrying himself this time? How he's a _little_ less arrogant? A _little_ less giddy? And views you more like a challenge than the usual victim?"

"What is your point?" I asked. Why was he asking me to look at footage of events I lived through?

The grey and red seeker skipped to when Scalpel entered my cell the next cycle. "How about how he carries himself the following cycle? How that arrogance shrinks..." He skipped to the following solar-cycle. "That giddiness turns to frustration…" He fast-forwarded the image to the next cycle. "How his frustration increases…" He skipped again. "Every…" And again. "Single…" And yet again. "Cycle." He went straight to the end, back to the moment Scalpel entered my cell for the final time, and gave me a serious look. "Right up until _this_ moment. Why do you think that is?"

I did not answer, partly because I wanted Flightstorm to finish his thought before commenting, and partly because I did not wish to try to get in the helm of an insane interrogator I offlined.

"I will tell you why," Flightstorm said. "It is because you proved too resilient to his interrogation methods, and cycle after cycle you would be standing there, taunting him with his continued failure of breaking you. And finally, he had enough, and searched for a weakness in your resolve. Can you guess what that was?"

"Arcee," I said without pause.

The former Decepticon nodded. "And the fact you didn't know what happened to her after Optimus retreated with her," he said, then pointed at the screen without looking at it. "He used that against you, gave you the worst possible news. He lied to you so that he could finally break you."

Almost every part of me wanted to believe that, to go back to feeling the world again. Almost. "And how do you know he is not lying? He could have known Optimus Prime and Arcee's fates since the beginning, and was waiting to use the information until he had exhausted every interrogation technique."

Flightstorm held up two digits. "Two things," he said as he lowered his digits again. "One, if Scalpel knew about their fates when he first walked through the door, he would have told you immediately. He is sadistic, enjoys the emotional and physical pain of others. Why would he wait so long to break you?" He rested against the back of his chair again, his optics shining with what seemed a smug look. Highly inappropriate, considering the conversation. "And then there's point number two."

"And what is the second point?" I asked tonelessly. I wouldn't, _couldn't_, let myself revive my hope right now. As logical as Flightstorm's argument was so far, there was still a possibility he was wrong. I wouldn't survive having my hope being destroyed twice.

The odd look Flightstorm had earlier joined the smug one. "It is the fact that if the femme a mech's spark chose as its second half is offlined, and he has a Protocol, it activates as soon as they pass to the next world, and it never again turns off." He gave me a quick once over, humor replacing the two looks in his optics. "And since your Protocol isn't active…"

In that moment, it was if the universe had color again. I had been deceived, my hope was never gone. My spark, my everything, was online. She had to be, otherwise my Protocol would still be active. "A- And Optimus?" I asked, my flat voice now shaky. I was still recovering from Flightstorm's statement.

The former Decepticon gave me a look that bordered between amusement and incredulity. "Shadowstreaker, you said Arcee had almost been shot through the spark. How, in Primus' name, would she be able get herself back to your base without being carried?"

Whatever doubt I had left evaporated. Optimus and Arcee were online. They were online. My optics had been clouded from the truth. I wasn't alone. I never _had_ been.

"I see you're in shock," Flightstorm observed with a smile. "I'll be outside for a while." He stood up from his seat and turned to walk to the door, but he paused and looked back at me. "You know, there is one more thing about Imprints that we've found…"

I gave him my full attention, curiosity most certainly written on my faceplate. "And what is that?" I asked with a smile, still reeling from finding out my spark was alive.

Flightstorm's smile widened, and he leaned forward, optics shining with an odd mixture of mischief, humor, and happiness. "It's that Imprinting is a two-way phenomenon. The Imprint sent by the spark of the one who initiates the process, cannot be accepted by the mech or femme who is Imprinted on… Unless their spark Imprints back."

I froze, completely, and I struggled to form a single thought. What?

The former Decepticon's smile turned into a grin. "I'll let you think about that for a while." He turned, opened the door, and left the room without another word.

It took me a few micro-klicks to realize he had left, and when I did, all I could do was look at the door blankly. What. Just. Happened? He… Just said my Imprint couldn't have been accepted without Arcee's spark Imprinting back. Tha- That meant she loved me, like I loved her. Her spark wouldn't have Imprinted back unless she did.

With a thunk, I fell back into my chair. The signs had been there the entire time. The fact she told me about her sisters so soon after I arrived, how she _didn't_ hunt me down and offline me when I accidentally saw her in the washrack, the way she ignored embarrassing events like I did when I was with her, but also didn't let them keep her from spending time with me. And also how she was always at my side if I was in the med-bay. She would wait for me, even if I was out for mega-cycles.

I internally Gibbs slapped myself. I had been so afraid of ruining our friendship, so careful to keep how I felt secret, that I didn't see the _glaring_ signs that had been there all along. I was, without a doubt, the stupidest, most _oblivious_ mech alive.

Time to change that.

With a resolve as firm as starship armor, I stood up from my seat and marched toward the door.

I was going home.

And I needed a ride.

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><p><strong>So yeah, I dropped a few surprises at the end. And then left it at that. But you blame me? I mean really, this thing went on for more than 25k words, and I have way too much narrative to go through it all in one go.<strong>

**But, I can say, without having a double meaning this time *I swear!* that I have been planning and looking forward to this next one for a very, very long time. :P**

**Now, there are some things I must say in this author's note. Firstly, the characters of Wraith Squad do not belong to me, they belong to DaLintyMan, who was kind enough to let me use the characters. Duststorm and her trine *whose mechs are unnamed at the moment* belong to KayleeChiara, who also was nice to me and let me use her character. So, thank you both for that, and I hope I didn't change them too much for your liking.**

**And the only other thing I have here is that there are some Halo references scattered throughout this chapter. I will give you a cookie if you spot them WITHOUT cheating and using Google. Lol.**

**This chapter's credit song is "Epic Rock - Fallout" This song is more suited to the tone I have set in this story for the last few chapters. It relates to the interaction between Shadow' and Arcee, how they are linked, how Imprinting works. It is epic in how it sounds, but at times it seems like Shadow' and Arcee are talking through the song, if that makes any measure of sense. It fits perfectly.**

**Please leave some feedback telling me what you liked, or didn't like, about the chapter. I really appreciate and love all types of feedback. They help me improve my craft. :) And thank you all for taking the time to read this ridiculously long chapter. I will see you soon.**


	36. Journeys

**Before I get to the author's notes, I would like to ask any who pray to add the people of the Philippines to their list of prayers. The typhoon that hit them recently is perhaps the worst one in hundreds of years, and many people have lost their lives to it. Please, keep the people of the Philippines in your thoughts and prayers. And to the few people who read this story in the Philippines *The site tells me what countries I have hits from* I am praying for you everyday, and hope help arrives to your you fellow countrymen in time.**

**Okay, to the chapter.**

**This one kicked my BUTT. I wrote some things one way, and I felt like they were rushed, I wrote them another, and they seemed cheap. It was a frustrating chapter, especially with how long it took me to write it all out. But at the same time, it was hard NOT to take so long. This one is almost ten thousand words longer than my last one. That's like another CHAPTER longer. And to put into perspective just how long these last two have been, the combined total of these chapters is about 60k, right? Well, the first Harry Potter novel, and I looked this up, is 66k words. In total. Basically, in terms of length, I've given you all the first Harry Potter novel in these last two. So to get to the point, I would recommend reading this in parts, as there will be clear places where you can stop to take a break. But, you can also just read it in full.**

**As always, I thank each and every person who reviewed, followed, or favorited this story since I last said this. It means a lot to see people wanting to know what my next update will contain. :)**

**Guest (Now known as SunnySides) - Yeah, took him a while, didn't it? Lol.**

**As I said, I take all my feedback seriously, and I try to treat others like I want to be treated. I do not always succeed in that goal, but it is always what I shoot for.**

**All three Lord of the Rings in two days? Holy crap. Those things are quite dense. It would be great to write at the pace you read. Think of all the updates you could write!**

***Looks at date* Didn't do so good in updating quickly, did I? Oh, well. At least I didn't go away for a lot longer. :)**

**DaLintyMan - True, but there were other references in the last chapter that were a lot more subtle. You might see them if you go back and look.**

**Guest - Well then stop shaking, for the chapter is here! ... Finally... Took more than a month and a half to finish this one.**

**dragonbookaddict - Thank you for thinking so highly of this story, and apparently me. I try to keep myself humble, and simply enjoy writing. But, it is always a great thing to see your work be enjoyed as well. I hope you like this chapter as much as my other ones. :)**

**John Primus - Well, there's a lot of things I have planned for this story, and at times it's going to go well away from the plot line of Prime. In fact, there aren't too many episodes I plan on having be chapters, and what ones I do plan on are going to be quite different than the show, as I have made a number of changes to the universe as a whole. I honestly do not know when my next episode-based chapter will be, but I will probably have a few more.**

**James92046 - There many stories I have come across that have held my interest at that level. I am honored that you currently see Fate Calls as that. Hopefully, you will keep finding it interesting and entertaining. As for the last bit of your review, no comment.**

**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.**

* * *

><p><strong>(Human calendar) July 1, 2013 7:37 P.M (UTC-6:00 Mountain Standard Time)<strong>

**(Cybertronian Date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since Golden Age)**

**Star system R136a1, Path Kethona galaxy (Know as the Large Magellanic Cloud to humans)**

"So, let me see if I understand you correctly," Delta, the captain of the Apex Sentinel, who I had met roughly ten klicks ago, said. "You want me, someone who you not only have just met, but also someone who lost almost an entire squad of bots barely a breem ago, to not only give you passage on my ship, go two-hundred thousand light-years out of our way to bring you back to your planet, a place where dozens of us offlined in a battle against Decepticons. Not only _that_, but you are asking us to potentially fight those Decepticon forces just to reach aforementioned world, then also use up all that time, effort, and resources, and not see them replaced?" The golden femme leaned against the bridge's holotable, which displayed an image of the system the ship was in. "All to get back to some femme you've been serving with. Is that about right?"

My left optic twitched slightly at how Delta referred to Arcee as 'Some femme,' like she wasn't important. But, that was my own fault. I didn't do a very good job of really explaining who, and what, Arcee was to me while asking the captain to give me a ride to Earth. Didn't even mention her name, come to think of it, on account of wanting to speed through the process of requesting passage so I could get moving to Earth, and giving only the barest of explanations to Delta. Going to have to do a better job of keeping my emotions from affecting how I speak, even if those emotions are literally the happiest I have ever felt.

I took a breath to regain control of myself. "It seems that I did not explain myself very well. May I clarify?"

Delta inclined her helm for me to continue.

"I am not asking you to use this ship to travel to Earth. It is the size of a large asteroid, and, as a result, must be teratons in weight. Using it to travel such a distance would use vast amounts of your energon reserves. What I request is passage on the Collected if, that is, it is still in your possession. It is minuscule in comparison to the Apex Sentinel, and would use the least amount of energon possible during the journey," I explained.

"This vessel, and everyone onboard it, has massive energon requirements that have to be met." The captain looked at the holotable, focusing it on the planet I could see out of the ship's view port. "To meet them, we must mine precious metals and sell them to organic races, whose planets are home to great deposits of refined energon. Even with this relatively easy method of acquiring energon, we still burn through it very quickly. Everything we do has the goal of giving us energon. If I give you what you ask, we will use more energon than we can gain, and we will fall into a shortage. And that is something we have not had in a vorn." She glanced at me, yellow optics appearing cool to the average bot, but I saw the kind look in them. "I can't let that happen again."

A pang of sadness and disappointment entered me, but I pushed them aside. "Then how about letting me take an escape pod? Program it to bring me to Earth?" I asked. The escape pods of Autobot ships could be directed to head for coordinates entered into their basic computers, and since this ship had both Autobots and Decepticons calling it home, Autobot engineers might have given the escape pods of this ship that feature. It wouldn't be comfortable for a mech my size, and it might only take me to the Sol system, not Earth itself, but I had to get back. And as long as Arcee was there when I returned, it would be worth any wait.

"We don't have the luxury of giving our escape pods computers," Flightstorm, who was standing next to me, answered instead of Delta, optics carrying a knowing, sympathetic look. "They are very basic. The most high-tech feature they have is a tracking beacon we can use to locate other escape pods. That is the sole reason we were able to track Wildwing's pod last orbital-cycle."

The sad feeling came back, and I couldn't keep it out this time. There was nothing that could get me back to Earth. The Apex Sentinel, the Collected, even an escape pod, all unable to bring me home. I couldn't get back. I couldn't reunite with her.

"I know you want to return," Delta said, evidently seeing my change of mood. "But we must put the needs of this vessel ahead of yours, even if you want to reunite with the courted you have been apart from for some time."

"We aren't courteds," I corrected mildly, beginning to pace next to the holotable, trying to think of other ways I could get to Earth. "But that doesn't mean we're not more than that."

The captain raised one optic ridge. "And how would that be?"

"We have Imprinted on each other," I said, still thinking of alternative methods of getting to Earth. "I learned of my own Imprint just before I was captured, and only found out of how Imprints are a two-way phenomenon during my conversation with your XO."

Delta's optics widened slightly at that, and glanced at Flightstorm, who nodded in confirmation. She turned back at me, optics now containing an apologetic look. "I am very sorry, but we can't do as you ask," she said. "All I am able to offer you is an invitation to join our crew, and the promise that we will eventually return to that general area of space."

"That won't be enough," I said. "It could be a centi-vorn before you make your way back."

"It might," the golden femme acknowledged, tone neutral, yet sympathetic. "But there does not seem to be another option. We can't afford to travel all the way out to Earth without replenishing the energon we would lose."

Delta's statement caused me to realize something, something that I could not believe I hadn't realized earlier. We had my carrier's Forge. Optimus could just make the energon they needed. Although, that would take several cycles of constant work, given how much energon Delta and her bots would require. But perhaps there was another way.

With an idea beginning to form, I asked, "Tell me, earlier you said that you were mining precious metals you could trade with organics in exchange for energon, what are they?"

The captain blinked at my completely off-topic question, and she and Flightstorm gave each other a confused look before they looked back at me. "It depends on the species. Some only trade for Silver, others for Platinum, Osmium, or Iridium, but the vast majority trade their energon for Gold."

Hmm. Sounds like the lust for Gold my former race possesses is universal among other races. Wonder if that's some type of genetic trait shared in all sentient organic races. "What is the exchange rate between Gold and energon?"

Delta continued looking at me in puzzlement, as if trying to figure out where I was taking this. "It is nearly consistent between all races we trade with. For every ton of Gold we trade, we receive seventy-thousand barrels of processed energon, enough to fill ten-thousand storage containers."

Huh. That was well under a fourth the Gold to Oil Ratio. Either energon wasn't as common on the planets Delta and her bots traded, or the organics they dealt with were taking advantage of how they couldn't live without access to their resources. And assuming greed was universal, I would bet on it being the latter. "And how much Gold is typically involved in one of your trades?"

"Anywhere from a hundred, all the way to two-thousand tons. It depends on how long we have to mine," Delta answered. "Why?"

"Because I am wondering how large our payment will need to be," I said, halting in my pacing to look at the captain seriously. "What if I told you we could provide twice the amount of Gold than your largest trade?"

"I would say that you're full of… Stuff," Delta said, likely keeping her language to a minimum due to the fact there were a few sparklings within hearing distance, watching their carriers or sires working at their stations on the bridge.

Flightstorm seemed to share her scepticism, since he asked, "And the Autobots at Earth just _happen_ to have four kilotons of Gold just _lying_ around your base? Do you become miners in your spare time?"

I ignored the former Decepticon's sarcasm. "No, but we do have my carrier's Forge."

The grey and red seeker rose both of his optic ridges in surprise, while Delta just looked confused, not knowing that I was related to Solus. "You didn't mention that during our conversation."

"It wasn't relevant at the time," I said with a small smile, repeating one of my statements from our discussion.

"What are you both talking about?" Delta asked, glancing between her XO and I for an answer.

I looked back at the captain. "I am the son of Solus Prime," I said, then tapped the mark on the side of my helm. "This mark identifies me as her direct descendant." And possibly more, I wanted to add, but didn't. I had no clue why I had seen the symbol on the building on Ventqura Munitum, whether it meant that the mark on my helm held more meaning than I was aware of. And I likely wouldn't know until I actually got clear and honest answers out of the Primes when I saw them next. But, going by how they acted in my last visit, as well as how they didn't even _mention_ the second Delphic, that wasn't going to happen.

I hate not being able to get answers.

A look of surprise crossed the golden femme's faceplate, before she mastered herself. "You are the son of Solus Prime? The first inventor and scientist of our race? _That_ Solus Prime?"

"Yes," I replied simply, hiding my amusement at how she was reacting to this news. Flightstorm had taken it with a lot less surprise, or at least outward surprise. Delta must be an admirer of Solus'.

"And you have her Forge? The relic that is said to be able to turn anything into anything?" Delta asked.

"I've seen Optimus Prime use it firsthand," I said.

Delta seemed taken aback by this confirmation, but she kept it out of how she behaved. "And Optimus Prime, he would be willing to use the Forge to create that amount of Gold for us?"

"After I have informed him of your constant search for energon, I believe he would do it in a micro-klick," I responded. "He is the type of mech who will go well out of his way to help others."

"Then why not just give us energon in return for taking you to Earth?" Delta asked. "It would be more simple than taking you nearly two-hundred thousand light-years, only to come back and get our energon from organics."

"Two reasons," I said. "The first is that this vessel is more than large enough for humans to see without the aid of technology. Humanity is largely unaware of our existence. If a ship this size were to sudden appear above or near it, it would send them into a mass panic. The other reason is tied to this fact. If you were to use the Collected to transport your energon to the Apex Sentinel, it would only be able to carry a very small amount in comparison to this ship, and it would take a very long time for Optimus to create that much energon. Time that you would lead you to use the energon he had already created, leaving us in a never-ending loop of loading up the Collected with energon again and again, only to not make any progress in filling the storage hangers on the Apex Sentinel." I folded my servos behind my backplates, resuming my pacing. "But, since you seem to have regular dealings with at least one organic race, I believe they are far more prepared to transport large quantities of energon to this ship in a short period of time. Am I right?"

"You are," the captain said. "Nearly all races we trade with have built facilities exclusively for our use. Some have constructed ground-based fueling stations that we must hover over in order for them to attach pipes that pump energon directly into our storage hangers. Most, however, have built space elevators we can dock with and have our energon brought aboard efficiently. A few even have cargo ships that are able to dock with us and transfer our energon in mere klicks." She seemed to think for a moment, likely about what I had said and she had confirmed, then nodded. "I see your point. So Gold in exchange for passage it is, then."

I came to a halt at those words and looked at Delta cautiously. "Does that mean you've changed your CPU and agreed to take me to Earth?" I asked. It certainly sounded like that was what she said, but I had to be absolutely sure with this. I couldn't let myself go back to being as happy as I was before until I knew exactly what she meant.

Flightstorm chuckled at my tone, and Delta smiled. "Yes, it does."

There have been very few moments in my life where I have wanted to jump in the air while pumping my fist in the air and crying, 'YES!' The micro-klick following Delta's statement was one of them. But I kept my reaction inward, and focused on more important things. "I am glad you've decided to help me."

"It will be best for both of our bots." Delta smiled again, then asked, "Now, did you have a plan for getting you to Earth beyond the use of the Collected?"

"Honestly?" I asked in turn. "No. I didn't think that far ahead."

Delta chuckled like Flightstorm had. "Then let's start making one." She looked at a femme who was working at a nearby terminal. "Can you bring up the scans the Collected took during its trip to the Sol system?"

The unnamed femme nodded. "Of course." She began typing at her terminal, and soon the image of the solar system we currently were in was replaced by a holographic representation of the system I had called home for my entire life, both as a human and a Cybertronian.

The three of us turned our attention to the holotable. "What level of Decepticon presence is there in the system? Same as when we were there last?" Flightstorm asked.

"No," I said. "Things have changed since you were there. There's at least two Decepticon ships in the system. The class leader of the Nemesis-class, and an Adversary-class called the Dark Matter. And the only reason the Nemesis didn't intercept you last orbital-cycle was because Starscream was in command. That isn't the case anymore. And there's also a chance Megatron has called for more ships to enter the system."

Flightstorm's helm snapped up to look at me. "You said he was offline when we were there. That he was right next to a space bridge as it collapsed."

"We thought so, too," I said. "But he survived… Somehow. We don't really know exactly _how_ he wasn't destroyed by the bridge. But that really doesn't matter, does it? He's back, and in command of the Decepticons once again. Had been for jours when I was captured."

A look of anger crossed Flightstorm's faceplate, and his optics dimmed slightly, though far less than they would have if he had been using a comm-link. Either he was contacting Cyberfrost through their bond, or she was contacting him. After a moment, he seemed to relax and the angry look left his faceplate.

"You alright?" Delta asked, concern hidden in her voice.

"Fine," Flightstorm answered, a little curtly. He refocused on the holotable. "So a direct approach is still possible, but very ill-advised," He said, focusing the image on Earth and adding two red dots to represent the Nemesis and the Dark Matter.

He clearly wasn't fine, but I chose not to comment. There were some things that needed to be dealt with personally. And Flightstorm's hatred of Megatron was something personal. "Unless you've upgraded the Collected with stealth systems and better armaments, no, I wouldn't advise going straight to Earth. Now that the Dark Matter is on Earth, it can focus on the ground operations while the Nemesis can concentrate on other parts of the system, if Megatron desires. It would tear us apart before we were able to even get close to Earth's moon."

"We've repaired and upgraded it since then, but it still doesn't have proper stealth systems," Delta said, drumming her digits against the holotable in thought. "What about a localized jump?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

The captain zoomed the image out from Earth, and back to the Sol system as a whole. "First, we jump to the outskirts of the system, like here, for instance." She highlighted an area of space far beyond Pluto, a little further out than even Eris, I believe. "Then we jump again, this time to a very specific point. Like somewhere within Earth's atmosphere. It will fool the majority of sensors. They're only pointed up to the stars, not to the ground."

"It might fool the long-range scanners, but the energy discharge from a ship jumping into atmosphere would trigger the sensors meant to detect energon signals, both on the ground and in orbit," Flightstorm pointed out. "If we jumped into the planet's atmosphere, we would light up Decepticon scanners even more than we would have by just jumping into an orbit above Earth."

"Which might not be a bad thing," I mused, thinking outloud. Jumping into atmosphere might trigger Decepticon, and Autobot, sensors, but that didn't necessarily mean we would give the Decepticons our exact location. The energy released from the jump would spread outward like ripples in water, and would cover thousands of square kilometers in mere micro-klicks. Granted, it also would be a literal shockwave, and cause extreme winds in the affected area, while also frying any electronics within its damaging limits. But it would also hide the Collected from scanners while the energy was still in the air. And that was what was important.

Both the captain and the XO looked at me. "How so?" Delta asked.

"If we jumped into atmosphere, our position would be revealed, yes, but not our exact position," I replied. "The energy the jump would release would cloud scanners, keep our exact location hidden from the Decepticons."

"Maybe, but it would do nothing to keep us from being visually seen by anyone who looks up," Flightstorm said. "And if we were going to jump into atmosphere, we'd have to do it in a remote area, away from human civilization. The Collected would stand out in an environment like that."

"True," I conceided. "But that's only if we stayed in that area."

Delta seemed to piece my idea together. "You think making multiple jumps in atmosphere will keep the true location of the ship hidden."

"Not only that, but also disguise the energy we would create from jumping in atmosphere again," I said.

"But no matter how many times we jumped to a different location, the Decepticons could still track us," Flightstorm argued. "All they would have to do is watch for the energy from our latest jump, and then jump right on top of us when their sensors detect us."

I went silent when I realized the logic behind the former Decepticon's words, but then another idea formed in my processor, and I said, "Only if we jump to a place they can track us."

Flightstorm blinked puzzlement and shared a brief, confused look with Delta, then looked back at me. "Now you've lost us."

"If we just jump around in Earth's atmosphere, they will track us, like you mentioned," I said, directing my statement at Flightstorm. "But if we modify my earlier suggestion, and instead immediately jump to a location protected by a cloaking field after our initial arrival, we can completely disappear from Decepticon scanners. They'll investigate, of course, but they can't track what they can't see."

The two commanding officers were quiet as they thought about what I said, before Flightstorm refocused on me. "It may just work, but we would need to have a cloaked location prepared for us ahead of time, and be far enough above the planet to see the protected location, which could be a problem. Not only that, but we do not have any cloaking devices on the Apex Sentinel or the Collected."

"We can worry about the location we jump when we know where the cloaked area is going to be. An as for the cloaking device itself, well, you don't one, but our base is cloaked, and my fellow Autobots have the capability to build a portable device on short notice with Optimus having the Forge," I said.

"But they aren't aware we're coming," Delta pointed out. "And unless they have foresight, we would have to communicate with them directly in order for your comrades to build a cloaking device and prepare an area for the ship to jump to. Not to mention the fact the Collected will have to find a place to hide while you are in contact with your base and informing your fellow Autobots of what we need."

"Then jumping to the edge of the system isn't an option. Without stealth systems, the Decepticons could track any communications we have with your base and attack us," Flightstorm said, getting rid of the highlight at the outskirts of the holographic Sol system and looking at the map thoughtfully. "We'll need to jump further in the system, maybe use another planet to hide our readings."

"Or, we could jump into a gas giant," Delta proposed, creating a blue dot in the gas clouds of Jupiter. "It would act like cover, hide our readings from all sensors. The Collected would only show up as a solid object in that atmosphere."

"That could work. It also would disguise our communications," I said, focusing the holotable on Jupiter and positioning the blue dot a bit deeper into the atmosphere. We would have to make sure we were deep enough to be hidden. "That gas giant, called Jupiter by humans, is a very weak radio pulsar. It would overwhelm Decepticon sensors by the time they got close enough to scan us. But it _also_ would make it impossible to lock onto us with the space bridge we have at our base, and scramble the Collected's communications system. That would need to be fixed before I tried contac-"

"Wait," Delta interrupted. "You have a space bridge at your base? Why are we even planning to use the Collected?"

I looked up from the holotable. "Do you have access to secure, long-range, Autobot comm channels?"

The golden femme shook her helm. "No."

"Neither do I," I said. "I'm a front-liner. It wasn't something I ever had to learn. Besides, space bridges work differently than normal FTL. It's far more precise. Any coordinates we could send to Earth would be useless for operating a space-bridge effectively. They could end up opening a space bridge inside the engines, or appear a million kilometers away."

"Alright, I see your point," Delta said. "But, it would be possible to use it while the Collected was in the system. It wouldn't even have to land, if your team used your space bridge to reach the ship."

Flightstorm shook his helm. "Not really. We would have to leave the atmosphere of Jupiter in order for a space bridge to work, like Shadowstreaker said. And the moment we left, the Decepticons could track us."

Delta sighed quietly. "So, jumping into Jupiter's atmosphere and contacting the Autobot base from there is our only option."

"The safest one, yes. And from what I can see, we have completed our plan," I said. We had the ship we were going to take, the location we would travel first, the plan to get around the lack of stealth systems, and a way for bots who followed Delta and Flightstorm to not only replenish, but gain more energon than they would use getting me to Earth. What else did we have to go over?

Delta returned the image on the holotable to the overview of the entire Sol system. She and Flightstorm examined the map for several micro-klicks, and then nodded. "You're right, we do," the captain agreed.

"So, when do we leave?" I asked, perhaps a bit too quickly. I was letting my excitement affect me again.

Flightstorm smiled. "Eager to get back, are we?"

I checked to make sure there were no sparklings within hearing range, but didn't seem like there were. Good, didn't want them to hear this. "You bet your _aft_ I am."

Delta laughed. "It will take a few solar-cycles to gather a crew and supplies for the journey, and also get word around to the crew that this is an opportunity for some to join Optimus Prime on Earth with you."

"You'd do that?" I asked curiously. She clearly cared for everyone on this ship. Sending members of her crew away to join another probably wasn't easy for her. But I wasn't complaining. We needed all the help we could get on Earth.

"Of course," the golden femme answered. "We travel constantly, and bots will come and go, and then sometimes come back."

That made sense. Jetfire and Springer had said when they first arrived they had accompanied Flightstorm and Cyberfrost on their search for Wildwing primarily to look for Optimus, and that decision ended up leading them right to him. "Okay, so after gathering a crew and supplies, how long will it get to Earth?" I hoped it would be quickly, but since it took nearly two mega-cycles for the Collected to get to Earth the first time, that wasn't going to be the case.

Flightstorm gave a small shrug. "Depends on how far we push the ship. We replaced its old FTL drive for a more up-to-date version since we last saw you, but it's not up to Autobot or Decepticon standards," he said. "Best guess? A mega-cycle, plus a few solar-cycles."

Well, that wasn't as bad as I expected. Not as fast as I wanted, but it would have to do. "That's more than acceptable. Less time than I thought it would be, in fact."

"Glad to see you're not disappointed," Delta said. She dismissed the image on the holotable and brought up a crew roster, from what I could tell. They were starting to plan the journey already. "Now, why don't you go explore the Sentinel, Shadowstreaker? You already said you've been captive for a long time. Exploring will do you good."

I shook my helm. "I don't think so. I can help with planning the trip."

"She's not saying you can't," Flightstorm said, looking up from the crew roster. "What she's saying is that you should relax. And I agree with her on that sentiment." He gestured toward the door with his helm. "Go explore, unwind from your captivity, take some time to relax." He gave me a knowing look. "Believe me, I can tell you need it."

I wanted to argue that I was fine, but I knew I wasn't. Not really. My sessions with Scalpel were still fresh in my processor, and I hadn't forgotten how I was inadvertently responsible for probably more than a thousand bots losing their lives. Then again, no one would forget that.

"Alright," I finally said. "But tell me as soon there's something I can help with."

"We will," Flightstorm affirmed as he went back to looking over the list with Delta.

I turned and started walking toward the bridge, now a mixture of emotions. So many were gone because of what I did. And there was no getting around that fact. They were _gone_ because of _me_. Because I activated my Protocol knowing exactly what would happen when it became active.

_'You did not know everything, young one,'_ a voice said, sounding like it came from all around me, filling the air. It sounded like countless voices forming a single, great voice filled with so much wisdom that nothing could compare to it. I had definitely heard it before.

It was one of the voices I heard after visiting the station.

I whipped my helm around, searching for the voice's source. But there was nothing out of place, just bots working at their terminals, some giving me an odd look for my nearly frantic movements.

What?

_'You did not know the full effect your actions would cause, even when you were warned through dreams. You acted without thinking,'_ the ancient voice said, again sounding like it came from all around me. _'It was foolish of you.'_

'Are… You in my helm?' I thought, directing the question at an unseen being as I looked around the room again, searching for the source of the voice and not finding it. Where else could it be coming from? And what was it saying about me being warned through dreams? Was it meaning the repeating dream I had before I was taken?

The voice ignored my question. _'Your actions are not fitting the role you are to take.'_

'What are you talking about?' I asked.

It ignored me again. _'The power within you cannot be unlocked until you are proven to be worthy of attempting to master it.'_

What the flying scrap? 'Who _are_ you?!'

As quickly as the voice arrived, it vanished, and I felt a pressure in my helm that I wasn't aware of release.

I was left standing on the bridge with one thought.

What the hell?

* * *

><p><strong>July 3, 2013 1:51 A.M<strong>

**Somewhere in Motuo county China**

Arcee hung completely motionless from a pipe in a hidden 'Con base, dangling above two Decepticon drones who were unaware of her presence.

Jazz was off to her left, hanging from another pipe, sword already out and at the ready as he waited to land on the Decepticon wielding a Thermo Missile Cannon.

They were both waiting on Prowl's command, who was with Jetfire and the twins, trying to stay out of the sight of a large Decepticon patrol that was passing the containers they were using for cover.

_"Steady,"_ the stoic mech ordered through a universal channel, keeping a servo raised while he carefully watched the patrol passing by.

None of the Autobots moved or made a sound, they just waited, and watched.

The patrol passed by the containers Arcee's fellow Autobots were hiding behind, but they were still in hearing distance. Prowl held off on giving the order to take out the 'Cons near them, likely so the patrol could get further away and not hear their comrades offline. But Arcee knew she and Jazz could offline all three without making a sound, and she knew that Prowl was aware of this fact. He was making sure they weren't discovered.

As the patrol continued moving away, Prowl said, _"Get ready. Wait for my mark."_

Wordlessly, Arcee and Jazz let go of the pipe, letting themselves hang precariously by just their crossed pedes. But they both had been enough recon missions to learn a few tricks. They wouldn't fall.

Arcee slowly and quietly deployed her servo-blades, their edges gleaming even in the shadows. She positioned her servos over the Decepticons below her, one for each drone, aiming for their necks. If she executed her move correctly, they would be offline before their processors registered a threat. And that was what any great scout wanted to accomplish during any encounter with the enemy.

Eventually, the sounds of the patrol moving faded away, and Prowl closed his servo into a fist. _"Mark."_

Simultaneously, Jazz and Arcee uncrossed their pedes and fell toward the 'Cons beneath them.

The Decepticon below Jazz was stabbed through the spark with the saboteur's sword, ending his life before he detected movement above him.

Arcee took her targets down just as silently, using her servo-blades to nearly decapitate both Decepticons when her weapons entered their necks and she pulled them toward her frame, severing all his vital cables.

"Quick an' quiet, just da way Ah like it," Jazz said as he pulled his sword out of the Decepticon he offlined and returned his servo to normal. He looked over at Arcee. "Nice takedown, by da way."

The blue and pink femme didn't pay attention to the compliment and faced Prowl and the others as they stepped out from behind their cover and moved toward she and Jazz. "We have about fifteen klicks until that patrol makes another round."

"Fourteen klicks and thirty-eight micro-klicks, to be precise," Prowl stated. He looked down hallways that went in opposite directions, yet both led to computers that might contain valuable intelligence, from what their scans told them. "We will not have enough time to cover both locations and plant the charges. We need to split up." He gestured Arcee toward the twins. "Arcee, take the twins and go down the Southern hallway. Jazz, you will accompany Jetfire and I down the North passage."

"Got ya, Prowler," the saboteur said as he went to join the seeker and Prowl, while the twins traded places with Jazz.

"Understood," Arcee acknowledged as the twins took up spots behind her. "Plan for evac?"

"Same as it was when we entered the base," the stoic mech replied. "Access the computers if we can, then plant the demolition charges and make our way out of the base. If we are unable to accomplish either objective, call Ratchet for a space bridge. Do not attempt to hold your location for long, if you come under attack. We are outnumbered a hundred to one in here."

Arcee nodded once. "Roger," she said, then deployed her Photon Burst Rifles and moved into the Southern hallway, with the twins taking out their swords and following after her as Prowl and the others started down the opposite hallway.

They went through the hallway without encountering any Decepticons, and reached the computer room, a multi-leveled area filled with server farms.

"Keep your helms moving, stay alert," the blue and pink femme ordered. "Plenty of ambush points in here."

"Yeah, yeah," Sideswipe said dismissively as he focused his attention to their left. "Already on it."

"Only _after_ she told us to look out for Decepticons," Sunstreaker pointed out.

The red twin huffed. "Details."

"Just saying that you're lying," Sunstreaker said.

Sideswipe used his shoulder-joint to shove his brother, almost causing the older twin to crash into one of the many rows of servers. "Shut up, Sunny."

Sunstreaker shoved Sideswipe back as he returned to his proper position, though only enough to make him stumble for one or two steps. "Well, _someone's_ touchy this cycle."

"Can you blame me?" The younger mech asked rhetorically. "We haven't pranked anyone in ages! Not since-"

"Uhem," Sunstreaker interrupted by clearing his throat, giving his brother a meaningful look and subtly gesturing toward the femme who was leading them.

Sideswipe got the message and stopped talking, hoping that his near-slip up had gone unnoticed by Arcee.

It had not. But Arcee was grateful the twins were making an effort from mentioning Shadowstreaker while she was present. All the Autobots were doing that recently, in fact, but the twins had to make much more conscious effort than the others, mostly because of their mischievous nature. It did nothing to sooth the emptiness in her spark, but at least they were trying to help her by not adding onto it.

Roughly a klick after the twins fell silent, the trio found a clearing in the servers. It had four entrances, one for each direction, and in the middle was a terminal connected to a computer below it, beneath a duraglass floor.

The computer itself was larger than the one they had at base, but not by much. It also didn't seem to have a lot of processors, only hard drives. It seemed to Arcee that it was made to store information, not process it. Which was good for them. Hacking into a computer built to analyze information was more difficult than accessing one made for information storage.

"Cover me, I'm going to start the hack," Arcee said, returning her servos to normal so she could interact with the computer, and starting to type at the terminal, beginning her work by working on getting past the login screen.

The twins made no verbal acknowledgement, but they moved into positions on either side of Arcee, optics already shifting between one of two entrances they silently agreed to guard, watching for signs of Decepticons.

The blue and pink femme bypassed the login screen just as the two brothers moved to guard the entrances, and she examined the system she was dealing with. Redundant password, using letters and characters from multiple alien languages. Perpetual passkey-changing software, popular for fighting hackers. And an alarm set to trigger when even a single character in the password was entered incorrectly. Basic security.

Arcee opened her sub-space and took out a S.P.I.K.E, a highly-advanced infiltration tool used by scouts to help them hack into computer systems and store data. It worked by flooding a targeted computer's system with sextillions of zettabyes of junk data every micro-klick, slowing both its operating speed and security response by simply bombarding its system with many times the data it was designed to process.

She attached the S.P.I.K.E to the side of the computer, and within moments, she had bypassed the computer's security, partly because she had taken the time to install some extra software into this particular S.P.I.K.E, which she had been using since she was given one of the first seven prototypes near the end of the war.

"I'm in," Arcee reported when she bypassed the security on the terminal, already combing through the computer's system for files that might be of interest.

"Good, then we can get out of here soon," Sunstreaker said, idly spinning one of the swords in his servos.

The sound of many pedes running across the floor suddenly reached the audio receptors of the Autobot trio, and a shouted command carried through the air, "Spread out, find the Autobots!"

Sideswipe looked at Arcee. "Um, could you hurry up a bit? We're gonna have company soon."

"Going as fast as I can," the blue and pink femme said cooly, copying files and transferring them to the S.P.I.K.E as fast as she could type. "Keep them distracted when they arrive. I only need a few klicks to copy everything."

The twins shared an eager look. "Distractions are our speciality," they said in unison, then changed the way they held their swords so that one was held normally, and one in a reverse grip. Then they crouched, as if in waiting to spring, and they spread their pedes in the familiar stance of Triev'nasor, a popular and incredibly difficult martial art the twins practiced. It had five tiers of escalating difficulty, and they were masters of in all of them.

The movements and shouted commands of the Decepticons got louder and louder, until finally a squad of drones appeared at the two entrances Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were standing in front of.

Before the leaders of the squads could open their mouths to order the Autobots to surrender, the twins were on them, swords just flashes of light as they slashed their way through their opponents.

A Decepticon near the rear of the squad raised an EMP Shotgun at Sunstreaker and fired, but the elder twin avoided the shot by jumping up onto one of the nearby rows of servers and dropping down on the offending Decepticon, offlining him by running one sword through his tank and the other through his helm.

Sideswipe ducked under the swinging servo of an axe-wielding Decepticon, then offlined him by stabbing him through the chestplates and slicing upward, effectively cutting his upper frame in two. "You done back there?"

"Nearly," Arcee replied. She sensed movement from behind her and whipped around, deploying a Photon Burst Rifle and shooting a Decepticon through his optic without taking the time to aim. "Contacts six o'clock. Make a wall."

"On it," the twins said at the same time, then backed up to take defensive positions around Arcee. They started to spin their swords in a circular motion, creating a makeshift shield around the three of them.

The Decepticons continued firing at the Autobot trio, but the spinning swords of the twins caused many of their shots to ricochet, with some even hitting the same Decepticons that fired them.

Soon, the Decepticons stopped firing, and the battle became a stalemate, with the Decepticons unable to harm the Autobots with the twins' swords protecting them, and the Autobots unable to move from their position without being shot by multiple weapons.

_"Can we call for that space bridge, now?"_ Sideswipe asked through a communications channel, watching the Decepticons around them warily.

Arcee, knowing they were out of time, stopped scrolling through the files and quickly examined the last three on her screen. One was labeled as 'Resource requirements by unit,' one was what appeared to be a roster of Decepticons on Earth, and the last was titled, 'Cyberium.' She chose to download the last file into her S.P.I.K.E, and then detached it from the side of the terminal. _"Arcee to base, we need a space bridge,"_ she said through another channel that Ratchet would hear.

_"Opening now,"_ Ratchet said, before closing the channel from his end.

The space bridge appeared in front of Arcee and the twins, between them and one of the squads of Decepticons.

As soon as the bridge opened, Arcee sprinted forward, with the twins right behind her.

The Decepticons opened fire again, well aware that their enemies were making their escape, and determined to prevent them from getting away.

Arcee stopped next to the space bridge and deployed her weapons to provide covering fire for her fellow Autobots. She took down a pair of Decepticons just before they could shoot Sunstreaker, dodged a shot meant for her helm, and allowed another shot to graze her shoulder-joint. The pain was something she had felt many times before, and since Shadow' was gone, her feeling of pain and touch had dulled. She didn't even feel it this time.

The blue and pink femme continued firing until both twins made it through the space bridge, then she returned one servo to normal, opened her sub-space, and pulled out a Trident Charge.

The Trident was a new weapon Optimus had made after the ambush that took Shadow', _her_ Shadow', away from her. It was a simple black and red sphere, not much larger than a grenade, and could be planted on almost any surface. The explosive inside the Trident, however, was far different than a grenade. Its charge was two milligrams of antimatter, set for a timed detonation. It would explode with the force of approximately eighty-six point four tons of TNT, enough to incinerate everything in a thirty meter radius, and level any structure within a hundred meters of the explosion.

Arcee set the timer and tossed the Trident toward the Decepticons, then retreated into the space bridge, the green portal quickly closing behind her.

After Arcee made her escape, the Decepticons stopped firing, and the one remaining squad leader walked toward the Trident and stared down at it, uncertain of what it was. He hadn't seen any grenade that looked like it, so he ruled out the possibility that was what it was. But it was also too small for a demolition charge. He concluded that it was an EMP charge, which would damage the computer systems around he and his fellow Decepticons.

That would _not_ make the higher-ups happy.

The squad leader picked the Trident up off the floor and went to throw it toward the ceiling, where its damaging effects might be lessened by distance. But just before he could throw it in the air, the timer inside its casing hit zero.

And everything within its blast radius was turned to ash in an instant.

* * *

><p><strong>July 2, 2013 2:12 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

The first thing Arcee noticed when she exited the space bridge was Prowl standing at the bridge's entrance, servos behind his backplates, with the other Autobots that had been on the mission with her standing further in the room, along with Ratchet and Moonracer.

"We failed to obtain useful information. Was your recovery successful?" Prowl asked.

"Yes," Arcee stated simply. She pulled the S.P.I.K.E out from her sub-space, and tossed it to Ratchet just as she was entering the ops center, who caught it deftly and gave her a mild glare before beginning to connect it to the workstation, likely disapproving of how she handled the high-tech device. But she didn't care about his opinion. She got it to him. That was what mattered.

Moonracer brought up the data contained in the S.P.I.K.E the moment Ratchet established a connection. "Looks like most of the information was logistics. The number of shuttles filled with replacement soldiers arrive every jour. The locations of hidden energon mines, and how much they're producing. Lists of every weapons cache they've found in the last six jours." She opened the last file Arcee managed to copy. "Now this is interesting. The composition of the alloy in this file is identical to the armor fragment that Sh- _we_ recovered with the Delphic," she caught herself before she could mention Shadowstreaker, but Arcee knew whose name she was going to say.

"Even explains how to recreate the alloy in detail," Ratchet said, continuing where Moonracer left off. "How much of each metal needs to be used, what temperature is needed to fuse them together properly. We could use this data to create sheets of our own alloy and test the effects different types of weapons have on it."

"Didn't we already have that?" Sunstreaker asked.

"No, we had a fragment, and that isn't a solid source of data," Moonracer answered. "We were only able to determine what metals were used to create it, but not how it was made or how much metal was needed to create different amounts of it. We also couldn't test our weapons on just a single fragment, could we?"

"Point taken," the yellow mech said.

Prowl cut into the conversation, "How long will it take to create sheets of armor for testing?"

Ratchet gave a small shrug. "Don't know. It depends on when Optimus returns from his recon mission with Ironhide and Bulkhead, and he can use the Forge to build what we need, after we explain the process needed for its creation. The Forge is limited by what its wielder knows, after all."

"And the other information recovered?" Asked the SIC.

"It will take us a few breems to go over all the data, and at least a few solar-cycles of work to locate everything listed there. But overall, it seems like solid intelligence," Moonracer replied.

"Dat' not somethin' we get a lot," Jazz said, optics shining behind his visor. "It' nice ta hav' a good cycle."

Internally, Arcee agreed with Jazz, but she didn't share his happiness. It was hard to be happy at all, in fact. And it would be some time before she started to really recover from losing Shadow', _her_ Shadow'. "Am I required for anything else?" She asked Prowl emotionlessly.

The stoic mech looked at her, optics carrying an understanding few saw. "You are not."

"Then I will take my leave. I'll be down in the Safe. Bring my S.P.I.K.E there whenever you're finished with it," the blue and pink femme said, turning on her heel and walking toward the hallway.

No one followed her.

The walk down the hallway was uneventful, and she reached the elevator quickly and pressed the button to begin her descent.

Visiting the Safe had become part of her routine after a mission. It would help her get out of her battle mentality, relax. But she was finding it hard to do so lately. Her CPU kept focusing on the burning hole in her spark, the void Shadow's loss had created. As well as the knowledge that he had loved her like she loved him.

Arcee locked down the emotions that pushed against her walls at the thought of her partner. He was gone, her opportunity to tell him what he meant to her was gone. Nothing was changing that. She couldn't let herself focus on all the chances she had to tell him in the past. All they would do is add more to the emptiness she felt.

The elevator reached the Safe, and the blue and pink femme stepped out, moving to the shooting range.

She deployed one of her Photon Burst Rifles and started shooting at targets, CPU still focused on the subject of her deceased partner, despite her best efforts.

He had been so close to confessing how he felt, if she was correct in what he was going to say before the mission that took his life. It hurt, knowing that. Arcee suspected it would _never_ stop hurting. She would recover, yes, but she didn't want to let the hole in her spark be filled. That was Shadow', _her_ Shadow's place. And it would remain empty until she was Home, and she had a chance of being with him there.

Arcee took a bit of comfort in that thought, and continued shooting targets.

* * *

><p><strong>(Human calendar) July 5, 2013 10:09 A.M (UTC-6:00 Mountain Standard Time)<strong>

**(Cybertronian Date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since Golden Age)**

**Star system L251c7, Path Kethona galaxy (Know as the Large Magellanic Cloud to humans)**

I watched as bots started loading the last of the supply crates into the Collected's cargohold, stepping directly into the hold by using a lift the crew of the Apex Sentinel had added since the smaller ship was last on Earth.

The ship had been given several other upgrades and modifications since I first saw it, not including its new lift and FTL drive. More armor plating had been added to its hull, making it even more block-like than it was an orbital-cycle ago. An energy shield was now protecting it, though it was only strong enough to withstand a few dozen kilotons of damage before it broke. Anti-missile lasers had been installed as well, along with a pair of Ion cannons on top of the vessel, and ship-to-ship missiles.

In all, it was a much more formidable opponent than it had been when it was on Earth, but it still probably wouldn't be able to fight any Autobot or Decepticon ship larger than a frigate. Hopefully, we wouldn't encounter Decepticons when we got to the Sol system.

'When I get back home,' I thought with a small smile. I was beyond eager to get underway. I had been gone for far too long, and I wanted to get back, see the others again… Arcee especially. We were in need of a very long and serious discussion about, well, everything. How I got captured, my time on the Hammer, how we felt about each other… How I escaped from the Paraions.

My mood dropped at that thought, and I looked at the bots who were loading supplies onto the Collected, a few of which had been on the Hammer like I had. I had been visiting the infirmary the bots from the Hammer had taken up, talking with as many as I could. The reactions they had to finding out I inadvertently got all of them out, but also caused many more to offline, were… Mixed, to say the least. Some thanked me profusely for helping to get them out of the living hell that was being a captive of Scalpel, others hated me and tried attacking me for leaving them the only living member of squads that had been captured together. Those that reacted with thanks made my guilt less noticeable, and those that reacted with anger multiplied it. They canceled each other out, and left me well aware of how I hadn't known, or honestly cared at the time, what the effects of my actions would be, like the voice had said.

I forced myself to think about something else. The ancient voice was something I had _no_ idea how to react to, or be able to figure out who it was without speaking with Optimus when I got back. Until then, I should keep it off my CPU, I won't get an answer by just continuing to think about how little I knew of the voice over and over again, as if some hidden piece of information would become clear to me. I believe doing that qualified as the definition of insanity.

My thoughts were put on hold when I felt little servos grab at the edges of my armor, followed by the sensation of something small climbing up my backplates and up on my helm.

Wildwing's happy, upside-down faceplate appeared in my vision. "Hello!"

I smiled without a thought. "Hello again, Wildwing," I greeted. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" I hadn't seen Wildwing since I onlined on the Apex Sentinel, mostly because I was either wandering around the immense vessel, or helping to prepare for the Collected's journey to Earth. He had classes with his carrier and another femme, from what Flightstorm said, so I hadn't actively gone in search of the mechling. But, I was happy he had found me instead. It was hard _not_ to be happy when he was around.

"But now you're here!" The seekerlet said happily. He produced what seemed like a drawing from his sub-space, but he had it turned around the wrong way. He didn't appear to notice. "Here! I want you to have this!"

I chuckled and put a servo up next to my helm to let Wildwing climb off. He did, and I saw that he hadn't changed much in the last orbital-cycle. But, I wasn't surprised by that. Sparklings grew at an incredibly slow rate compared to humans, to account for the fact Cybertronians didn't offline from old age. Ironically, Wildwing was probably about fifteen times as old as I was, considering the Apex Sentinel had only been under the control of the neutrals for three vorns, and a femme's carrying cycle typically lasted only about six jours. "That's very nice of you to give me a blank sheet, Wildwing. I shall cherish it always."

Wildwing tilted his helm in confusion at my deadpanned joke, and he looked at the paper in his tiny servo. "Oh! Opps!" He said, then flipped the paper around so he could see it, nodded his helm in satisfaction, and turned it back toward me.

It was a picture of everyone at the base at the time Wildwing left, standing near the lone tree and looking up at the stars, with the tiny figure of Wildwing sitting on my helm while the teens sat on Optimus' shoulder-joint. The detail of each part of the picture was impressive, even more so than when he was on Earth. He must have been practicing a lot since then.

"Now, _that_ is a great picture," I said, carefully taking the small sheet from Wildwing so it wouldn't rip. "And it was very nice of you to give it to me. Thank you."

"You're welcome!" The seekerlet said happily, then pulled a literal stack of more sheets of paper out of his sub-space. "Want to look at more?"

I smiled again. "Of course."

"Yay!" Wildwing cried. He then picked one of the pieces of paper out from the others and held it up for me to see, this time making it face the correct way the first time. Only Arcee and I were in this picture, and we were next to each other on a hill. "I finished this one when sire brought you here and you were recharging."

My first instinct, due to not speaking with sparklings often, was to correct him and say I had actually been dangerously low on energon, not recharging. But I pushed that aside since a mechling his age shouldn't know that. "Well, you did a great job on it. It's very nicely detailed."

"Thank you!" The seekerlet said, putting the drawing back into the stack and taking out another picture. This one was of him watching TV with Jack, Miko, and Raf, tilting his helm curiously at the screen while the three human teens smiled at his antics. "I made this one after carrier and sire came to Earth to find me."

"It's accurate to what would happen," I said.

"I think so, too!" Wildwing returned the drawing to the stack, then pulled out another. He looked at it, then very quickly put it back into the stack with a mildly displeased look on his faceplate. Unusual for him.

"What's making you upset?" I asked.

The mechling gave a very quiet huff, something else that was unusual for him. "Nothing," he said, very obviously lying.

"That is not the truth," I stated factually, looking at where Wildwing had placed the drawing back in the stack. "Why do you not like that one drawing?"

"Because I can't finish it," Wildwing answered, crossing his tiny servos over his chestplates in what was very close to a pout.

"Just because you can't finish it doesn't mean it should be something you don't like," I said calmly. He was legitimately upset about not being able to finish his drawing, and that didn't suit him at all. "Let me see."

"But it isn't done!" The seekerlet protested, as if he didn't want me to even think about it until it was finished.

"But it will be," I said. "And if I see it before it's done, I can see how much you improved it."

Wildwing seemed to be trying to come up with an excuse not to show me his picture, but then he dropped his optics in defeat. "Okay," he said slowly, as if he had punished. "But you can't laugh at it!"

"Wildwing, I don't laugh at the things you do unless you _want_ those around you to laugh," I said. "I will not laugh at an unfinished drawing."

"Promise?" The mechling asked, looking up at me searchingly with his innocent fuchsia optics.

I raised the servo that Wildwing wasn't sitting in. "I promise to not, in any way, shape, or form, laugh at your incomplete picture," I said. "Now, show me it."

My words caused Wildwing to go right back to his usual, enthusiastic self. "Alright!" He turned the page, and I blinked several times in surprise.

It was a picture of Arcee and I, like the second drawing I had seen was, but in this one we were kissing, rather passionately, I noted. My servos were wrapped around her and resting on her backplates, while her servos were around my neck. Our optics were closed, as far as I could tell, like we wanted nothing to do with anything else for that brief moment. It made me want to get back to Earth all the more, but also made me incredibly confused. How did Wildwing know how I felt about Arcee?

"Wildwing, why did you draw a picture of Arcee and I like that?" I asked, not looking away from the picture as I continued analyzing its details. It didn't seem to be as incomplete as the mechling made it sound. There were parts of Arcee and I that were not even drawn at all, along with the background, but it was detailed enough to still be looked at without even having to think about what it was.

"Because I saw it in my helm," the seekerlet said, as if that was blatantly obvious.

"But why did you see it, and picture this image in your helm?" I asked. It was possible that Flightstorm had told him I was more than a little attracted to her, since that mech knew how I felt after just one visit, but he didn't seem to be the type to tell the secrets of others, even to family. And Wildwing was too young to really understand the significance of romance. Had he just seen his creators kissing, and wondered what Arcee and I would have looked like if we did the same?

Wildwing gave a little shrug. "I don't know. I just did. I make pictures from things that I see, and I kept seeing that in my helm, so I made it a picture."

Well, that gave no answers. "If you kept seeing it in your helm, why haven't you been able to finish it?"

The mechling's wings drooped slightly. "Because I lost it."

"You lost it?" I asked, optic ridges lowering in confusion. "How did you lose an image you kept seeing?"

"I don't know," Wildwing said, sounding a little upset at how he hadn't finished the picture. "I just lost it, and I can't find it again."

"You forgot the image?" I inquired. That was… Unheard of for a Cybertronian. Our CPUs were the largest and most complex storage devices in the known universe. We _never_ forgot anything, no matter how brief or unimportant. The only way to forget something was for the information to be corrupted or deleted from our processors. That was nearly as unheard of as just forgetting something. And something was telling me it wasn't as simple as that.

Wildwing shook his helm. "No, I remember the picture. I just can't make it appear again."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I can't see what the picture in my helm looks like anymore," the seekerlet answered. "It won't come back when I think about it. Same with the feeling that I should draw it."

That was a new piece of information. "What feeling?"

The mechling blinked at me. "I just said what it was."

"Yes, yes you did," I said. "But where did it come from?"

"I don't know," Wildwing said. "But it wanted me to draw my picture exactly like it wanted to." He held the drawing up a little higher. "It wanted it to be this."

That sounded… Odd. "So, you didn't know I care about Arcee the way your sire cares about your carrier?"

The mechling tilted his helm curiously and looked at the incomplete picture with new-found interest. "Is that why you and her are doing the thing carrier and sire sometimes do with their mouths? Do you do that?"

Now, this is just getting awkward. "No, no, no. We haven't done that. Well, not that I don't _want_ to. It's just that we haven't."

Wildwing's helm tilted further. "Then how can you care about her like sire cares about carrier?"

Okay, time to get back on topic. "Wildwing, this… Feeling you got, when did you first get it?"

The seekerlet looked up slightly, as if trying to think more clearly. He seemed to find his answer, and he focused on me again. "Right after I got the feeling that said you were floating in the ship outside, the one the thingies on the bridge couldn't find."

Wait, what?

Before I had a chance to ask Wildwing to clarify what he meant, he looked at the bots that were loading crates onto the Collected, and his faceplate lit up. "Ooo, this will make a good picture!" His excited faceplate looked up at me. "Let me down, please."

I was too confused to refuse his request, and I crouched to let Wildwing get an angle for beginning his drawing. If what he said was true, he knew I was on what remained of the Hammer before the sensors of the Apex Sentinel even knew it was there, let alone that bots were onboard. That shouldn't have been possible. We didn't share any type of bond, and he didn't have any scanners on his frame. Was this feeling he had really the reason the Hammer was found? And if so, was it random? Or did it come from something, _someone_?

"He has had a lot of those lately," the voice of Cyberfrost said, and the small femme appeared at my side.

"A lot of what? Knowledge of things he shouldn't?" I asked.

Flightstorm appeared on my other side and answered in the place of his mate, "No, strange feelings he can't place or understand."

"Yeah, I'd say so," I said, watching as Wildwing began to sketch outlines of the bots loading crates onto the Collected. I looked fully at the seeker. "He drew the start of a picture of Arcee and I kissing because he felt he should, but he can't anymore."

"We know," Cyberfrost said, her voiced laden with maternal worry. "He's been drawing pictures of things he's never seen before."

"Or of places we've never even told him about," Flightstorm added.

"Such as?" I prompted.

The former Decepticon looked at me flatly. "Like Megatron's fortress of Darkmount, the inside of Trypticon Station, the ruins of Tarn. Places we decided not to inform him of until he was older."

That was… Disturbing. For a sparkling to draw places like Darkmount, where countless bots, femmes especially, went through unimaginable emotional and physical pain and suffering, wasn't something they should have any knowledge of at all, let alone enough to draw a depiction of it. And for him to draw Trypticon Station, where Megatron experimented on his own soldiers with Dark Energon, was almost as alarming, same with drawing the ruins of Tarn. He shouldn't have knowledge of _any_ of those places until he was _much_ older, yet he already did.

"How long has he been drawing pictures of places he shouldn't even know about?" I asked.

"According to him, since you showed up on a destroyed ship, floating in front of us," Flightstorm answered. "He says the first feeling he couldn't describe appeared when you arrived."

"Yeah, he said that. Also said, in his own way, that he knew I was on the Hammer before your sensors did," I said as Wildwing began to fill in the outlines he had drawn. "Is that true?"

Flightstorm nodded. "It is. He and I were on the bridge when it happened. One moment he was drawing, the next he was running through the bridge and looking out the view port like a comet just went by."

So, my arrival was the first time Wildwing experienced something he couldn't place. But why? And where had the feeling come from? I heard stories of human children having almost a sixth sense at times, something that faded with age and tended to not be taken note of. It wasn't a stretch for sparklings to have the same ability, but with Wildwing, I got the feeling it was more than that. There was no way he got that feeling on his own, knew what it meant, and that it involved someone he knew. No, something or someone sent him that feeling and told him what it meant. But who and why?

"What did he describe the feeling as?" I questioned.

"Like something was guiding him, telling him that it was important to stop drawing and look out the view port," Cyberfrost said. "Like-"

"An unseen bot was speaking to him," I interrupted. What she was describing was _very_ familiar. It sounded like Wildwing had contact with the voice that spoke to me after Megatron sent me into stasis, then again just a few solar-cycles ago, and perhaps even showed its presence when I refused to help Extremis. But then again, maybe he hadn't. The voice showed it was perfectly capable of communicating with me verbally, at least in my helm, why wouldn't it actually speak to Wildwing instead of just sending feelings, or talk to me when I didn't help Extremis? Was that _really_ the voice I felt something akin to approval from? Or was it something else entirely?

I saw Cyberfrost look at me in my peripheral vision. "How did you know that?"

"I've had an experience similar to what he described," I said. "But instead of getting a feeling I couldn't explain, a voice spoke in my helm."

"That _definitely_ didn't make you sound like a schizophrenic," Flightstorm quipped, earning him a look from his sparkmate.

"Yes, yes, very funny," I said. "Doesn't make my answer false."

"Wasn't saying that it did," the former Decepticon said. "Just wanted to point out the fact it made you sound more than a little crazy."

I shook my helm. "With everything that's been happening to me lately, that was a very sane statement in comparison."

"Somehow, I don't doubt that." Flightstorm looked back at Wildwing, who was nearly finished filling in the outline of the Collected. "That's why 'Frost and Wildwing are coming with us to Earth, to see Optimus Prime."

I understood their reasoning. "Since you've never encountered something like this before, you are hoping Optimus will be able to tell you how and why Wildwing is getting these feelings."

"More condensed than the explanation I would have given, but yes," Cyberfrost said. "We feel that he is having these unexplained feelings for a reason, but that reason is beyond us. Hopefully Optimus Prime can see what we can't."

"The Prime has the habit of doing exactly that," a femme's voice said from behind the three of us.

The three of us turned around, and I saw two Autobot seekers of Jetfire's height, one red, white, black, and gold in color, while the other was only silver and black, being led by an admittedly attractive red femme with yellow accents. Couldn't touch Arcee from where I stood, though.

She was very tall for a femme, only six feet shorter than I was. Her chassis was of a very slim build, almost to the point of making her look fragile and vulnerable to even non-lethal weapons, but I suspected that wouldn't be the case in battle. A curved sword was attached to her backplates, and twin missile launchers were built into her servos. Her orange optics carried the firm and calm look of an experienced commander, but I saw a trace of genuine kindness and caring hidden in them.

The femme reminded me of little of Elita-One, although she lacked that certain... Something that Elita had in how she carried herself, and this femme didn't. But I had no clue what that something was. It was one of those things you couldn't place, yet knew what it was as soon as you saw it.

Flightstorm nodded at the two seekers, who I recognized from War for Cybertron as Silverbolt and Air Raid, the other Autobot seekers from that part of the game. "Air Raid, Silverbolt, we were expecting you here half a breem ago," he said.

"We were delayed," Silverbolt said in a voice that carried authority.

"By?" The former Decepticon asked.

Silverbolt looked at Air Raid, who had a smile that had yet to leave his faceplate. "By Air Raid's habit of making things more complicated than they should be."

"Oh, come on!" Air Raid protested. "You know you loved taking the scenic route."

"'Scenic,' isn't what I would describe the fighter-launch bays," the silver and black seeker said.

Air Raid scoffed. "That's because you have no desire to have fun."

"Did you break anything?" Flightstorm cut in, then continued when Air Raid shook his helm, "Good, then it wasn't a repeat of last time. Get onboard, we're leaving as soon as the workers are done loading supplies." He looked at the femme as the two Autobots walked toward the Collected. "I was expecting to see those two, but not you, Override."

'Override? Is this the same Override the crew of the Ark encountered on Velocitron way back during the end of the war?' I thought, thinking about the entry I had seen in one of the historical data pads I read during my training. I kept my thought to myself.

"Most things in life aren't expected," Override said in a voice that matched the look in her optics. "But that doesn't mean they're all bad."

Flightstorm raised one optic ridge at her answer. "I didn't know you were a philosopher. I assume you mean you're here for a good reason?"

"I am," Override replied. "I wish to join you in your journey."

"Why?" The grey and red seeker asked. He didn't sound hostile or suspicious, just merely curious.

"I am hoping to become a part of Optimus Prime's team," the red femme said.

Flightstorm and Cyberfrost seemed surprised by this, and I was as well, but I declined from speaking. "What about your Velocitronians?" Cyberfrost asked.

Override looked at white and navy blue femme. "Blurr is a competent leader, willing to look out for those who aren't under his command as well as those that are. And… My presence isn't required for my Velocironians to survive. They're safe here, under Delta and Flightstorm's command. I would be of more use if I was where the war still rages."

"Can't deny that you would be," Flightstorm said. "But are you sure want to leave? You would be missed here, and Delta's probably going to want to know of your departure ahead of time."

"I have already informed her of my decision. And as for those who I leave behind, there will come a time when I will return. I am certain of my choice," the red femme answered, then turned her attention to me. "You are called 'Shadowstreaker,' correct?"

I nodded. "That would be my name."

"And you are a part of Optimus Prime's team?" She asked.

"I am," I replied.

Override offered a servo, and I shook it. "Then allow me to formally introduce myself, even if the formality doesn't hold as much meaning when you have already heard my name. I am called Override. It is a pleasure to meet you, Shadowstreaker. If Optimus allows me to join your team, I look forward to working with you." She released my servo, bid the three of us a short farewell, then walked toward the Collected without another word.

I watched her go, confused at her behavior. "Is she always so… Formal?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Flightstorm said.

"But she's really a nice femme," Cyberfrost added, the smile that had been painted on her faceplate when I saw her last finally appearing. "She just has trouble relaxing, mostly because she never had a chance to before she and her Veloctronians joined us."

"Then hopefully she will learn how to," I said. "But then again, I've yet to see Optimus relax."

"That seems to be a theme in leaders," Cyberfrost said, giving her sparkmate a meaningful look.

The former Decepticon blinked at her in surprise. "What are you looking at me for? I relax."

"Taking inventory isn't relaxing," the white and blue femme said. "Doing things like painting or sitting are relaxing."

"To _you_ they are," Flightstorm pointed out. "And to me, taking inventory is relaxing."

"Still wouldn't hurt for you to just sit down once in a while," Cyberfrost informed.

I put the sparkmated pair's banter at the back of my CPU, since I noticed Duststorm was one of the bots loading supplies onto the Collected, along with her trinemates. I hadn't seen her since I coldly informed her of how the Decepticons really were. And to be honest with myself, I really shouldn't have done that. Of course I hadn't been my usual self at that time, but my behavior was still unacceptable. I should have been more civil and understanding in that conversation. She and her trinemates had been following the Decepticons for so long, and I just completely shut down her attempts to argue with me. And learning that the ones responsible for the worst crimes of the war are actually the bots you believed were the most noble and just group since the Golden Age would be a great shock, one that I should have told her gently, instead of being uncaring and blunt. Apologizing would be a good idea.

I glanced at Flightstorm and Cyberfrost. "Excuse me, I need to go make something right." I walked toward Duststorm and her trine without waiting for an answer, smiling down as I past Wildwing on my way to the three seekers. When I was within about fifty meters of the femme seeker, I came to a stop. "Duststorm."

The black and purple femme seeker looked up at me, then went back to loading crates. The two mechs didn't even react to my presence or statement.

I wasn't surprised by that response, in fact I deserved it for how I acted, being my usual self or not. "I just wanted to apologize for how I acted, how I told you all the things I did. I wasn't myself at that time, but that isn't an excuse for being as cold toward you as I was. So… I am sorry."

The trine made no indication that they heard me, or even that they were listening to my words. They just kept loading supplies.

I sighed quietly and turned to leave. I couldn't blame them for ignoring me, I really hadn't gone through that conversation well, and now they refused to even listen to my apology. It felt wrong to just walk away without hearing a response from them, like I hadn't meant my words, but I had. And if they wanted to ignore me, I couldn't stop them.

"Do you honestly mean that?" I heard Duststorm suddenly ask.

I came to a halt and turned around. The femme seeker had stopped loading supplies onto the ship, and was looking at me intently, while her two trinemates watched from behind her.

"I do," I answered.

"Then why act like that?" Duststorm asked, tone wary yet firm.

"I thought someone I love more than anything was offline," I responded. "I felt nothing at that point, and cold logic was all I was running on. And when you stepped in my path, treating me as you did, I felt like you needed to be shown the truth. I stand by that principle, but not the method I used to show you. I should have been respectful of you and your trinemates, not the indifferent mech I was when I spoke to you last. To make it worse for me, I found out the one I thought was gone was actually online the whole time, making my reasons void. But even if my reasons _hadn't_ been false, I was still wrong for talking to all three of you in the way I did. And for that I am sorry."

The femme seeker seemed to take note of my sincerity, but didn't comment on it. "I accept your apology, and I hope you accept mine."

"Yours?" I asked, raising an optic ridge. She had said nothing about apologizing herself, and she didn't need to. I had been the one at fault, after all.

"We… Fact-checked everything you said," Duststorm answered in a quiet voice, wings twitching uncomfortably. "There wasn't anything firm to support most of your claims, but the changes in political power shifted in the ways you said it did. Checked some sensor readings from the assault of Hydrax Plateau as well. All Autobot forces were either offlined or driven away, and all civilians were accounted for as online, then once the 'Bots were gone, weapons fire was detected inside the spaceport, at the same time Decepticons 'Reported' Autobots firing on unarmed bots." She looked away from me, optics looking disturbed. "Some of our other findings were more disturbing. Like Uraya, the Core... Vos…"

"The truth can hurt. A _lot_," I said. "Especially when the truth is so far from the lie you were fed for so long. I should have taken that into account when I spoke to you and your trine."

"Yes, you should have," Duststorm readily agreed, and the wings of all three trinemates bristled for a brief moment before relaxing. "But at the same time, it was in our best interest to hear it."

I shrugged. "Maybe it was, but that doesn't excuse my behavior."

"It doesn't, but we also pushed you too far without realizing it," the femme seeker said. "And that, in turn, isn't what we should have done. So, I am sorry for treating you in the manner that we did."

"I have double-layered armor, there's nothing to forgive," I said.

"Good. But this doesn't mean I like Autobots now," Duststorm said without any humor, a serious look set on her faceplate. "Your motives are still too suspicious from where I stand."

That… Didn't make sense, but I was also an Autobot, she wasn't. And any well-organized faction who claims to have only the goal to provide complete and total freedom for all, and started from the remains of many higher-level groups in a caste system, will look suspect to those that believe everyone has a hidden agenda. So I suppose her distrust was understandable. "There's no rule that says you have to like us."

"I wouldn't follow it even if there was," the femme seeker said in a voice that was a trace less serious, though it was hard to tell whether that was because she felt she had made her point already, or if she was deadpanning.

"I don't doubt that," I said. I saw movement out of my peripheral vision, and when I looked, I saw Flightstorm standing at the top of the loading ramp on the Collected, gesturing for me to join him. It was time to go. I looked back at the trine. "Seems I'm out of time."

Duststorm and her trinemates looked around, and noticed the other bots had finished loading supplies onto the ship. "Looks like you are," the femme said, then looked up at me. "Guess you should be going."

"I should," I agreed. "But, I wish you well, Duststorm."

The femme seeker didn't seem to know how to react to my statement. "Um… You, too?"

I chuckled. "That'll work." I looked at the other two members of the trine, who hadn't spoken at all, and had remained nameless since I first saw them. "What are your names?"

The two mechs shared a glance, and one of them said, "I'm Longflight, and he's Steadyburn."

I nodded at both of them. "I hope you both stay safe as well." I left the trine with that and made my way to the Collected, secretly excited almost beyond measure. I was going home.

After I reached the ship and walked to the top of the ramp, Flightstorm asked, "Were you planning on missing the trip to Earth you convinced us to take?"

"No, I was just making sure I didn't leave bitter bots behind," I said, not paying attention to his sarcasm.

The former Decepticon smiled. "I know, and it was good of you to show that Autobots tend to own up to their mistakes, unlike how Decepticons portray them."

We left the exchange at that and went into the ship, passing a number of rooms, using several elevators, until we reached the bridge, where a crew of unfamiliar bots were operating their stations, while Override, Silverbolt, Air Raid, Cyberfrost, and Wildwing were just waiting to get underway.

"We have everything, Trailshock?" Flightstorm asked an earth-colored mech with a ground-based alternate form, taking a seat at a terminal near the door that seemed to serve as the captain's chair, only less formal.

"We're fueled up and ready to go," Trailshock replied. "I'm just waiting for your go."

"Well, then go," the grey and red seeker said. "We have a planet to get to."

Trailshock gave a mock salute. "Sir, yes sir," he said, then pressed a button on his terminal that was separate from everything else.

I felt the Collected shake beneath my pedes, and outside the view port I saw the ship detach from its docking cradle and fall away from the Apex Sentinel, the enormous vessel appear to be the size of an entire world from this distance.

The navigator activated the Collected's engines and we moved even further away from the Apex Sentinel, to get to a safe distance before jumping to FTL, since jumping close to another ship can seriously damage both vessels.

After moving to a safe range, the navigator activated the FTL drive, turning the dots of distant stars into long, deformed lines, and the blackness of space into a never-ending source of light.

And my journey home began.

* * *

><p><strong>July 5, 2013 11:23 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

Optimus stared down at the stack of data pads in front of him. They contained all the reports he was obliged to fill out. Some of them were to go to the United States government, others to Russia, the United Kingdom, or Israel. There were also several that were progress reports written by Prowl, holding results from various tests or experiments conducted by Ratchet and Moonracer, or mission debriefings.

These were all things he knew he had to do. But for a reason that escaped him, he could not find the will to pick up the first data pad, even after he had been trying to force himself to do so since he sat down exactly fifty-three klicks ago. Perhaps it was because he was worn out from the skirmish he and Smokescreen had with the Decepticons had earlier in the cycle. Or maybe his CPU had been jostled by the Brute who hit him with his hammer before Optimus had offlined him with the Star Saber.

It also might have just been because he didn't want to work at that very moment. But it also didn't matter what he wanted. He was Prime, he was required to do the things others could not. He had learned and accepted this fact long ago. And working nearly at all times was one of his many duties.

With a light sigh, the Prime forced himself to pick up the data pad on top of the stack. It was a message from Director Theodore Galloway, forwarded from Agent Fowler with the title, 'Tell this dumbass to step off already.'

The message was, another, formal request for the Autobots become a unit in the United States military. It was the usual one the Director of National Intelligence sent, saying it would be in the best interest of not only the Autobots and the United States, but also the world, if they joined as an official, highly-classified military unit. He brought up multiple threats he said that could be totally stopped with their cooperation. Human terrorists that had evaded capture, several ongoing wars, unstable governments with access to nuclear weapons. All of them, he claimed, were greater threats than the Decepticons posed. As was typical of his requests, he left a space at the bottom for Optimus to write his response.

'That man is extremely ignorant,' Optimus thought. The Director was foolish if he truly believed the latest human conflicts were more dangerous than the Decepticons. Only the humans' two World Wars were comparable to the war for Cybertron, and even those were a fraction of the size. For all the violence in their short history, the humans had yet to experience true, total chaos across their entire world. Cybertronians had.

And even with the cause of that chaos above and on their planet, Director Galloway still believed human matters were of greater concern. Optimus wondered how the man would react to knowing the only reason the Decepticons hadn't openly invaded was because Megatron wanted to enslave them instead of outright destroying them, and that the Autobots were the only remaining obstacle standing in their path to completing that goal. The Director probably would not believe what he was told.

The Prime signed a large, two-letter reply, 'No.' Then he placed the data pad to the side, and picked up the next one in the stack. It contained the summary of all the data Arcee and the twins had recovered from the Decepticon computer system, including results from the tests Moonracer and Ratchet had conducted on the armor they had him create three solar-cycles ago with Solus' Forge. They were already making progress in finding a possible weakness in the Decepticons' upgraded armor, which would return the playing field to its previous state, or perhaps leave his Autobots at an advantage, considering they had an armory full of advanced weapons, the Star Saber, the Omni Saber, and the Forge of Solus Prime. But Optimus did not focus on that one piece of information. His attention was drawn to two different ones.

One was that, finally, Ratchet had finished his examination of the remains of the drones and bots that took one of his Autobots, and almost took another. And after exhausting all sources of data, the medic had reached a conclusion about the origins of the offlined bots and drones.

They had never stepped onto the surface of Cybertron, like Autobots and Decepticons. They had been members of an unknown faction.

He was not surprised by Ratchet's findings. The technology they wielded was beyond anything the Autobots had, and was rivaled only by the artifacts of the Thirteen. If the Decepticons had access to that technology, they would be using it. And since they were not, the only remaining possibility was for the bots to have been part of a group of Cybertronians he was not aware of. It did not sit well with him to not know who was responsible for taking the life of one of his soldiers, and almost another and his own, but at the same time he could not do anything about them at this time. All he could do was wait for a lead.

The second, and perhaps even more distressing, piece of information that caught his attention was unusual activity in Decepticon logistics. At least three times a jour, the massive amounts of energon and raw materials gathered on Earth were loaded into the cargohold of the Nemesis, transported to freighters waiting near Pluto, transferred, and then taken to an unknown destination.

The act of transporting resources to other solar systems was not uncommon for the Autobots and Decepticons, especially among the latter. But the quantity of resources being taken out of the system was very strange. More than fifty-thousand storage containers filled with processed energon, three-hundred kilotons of common metals and elements, and nine kilotons of rare elements were being transported to another location every jour. Just one of those shipments could last Decepticons in the system for orbital-cycles, yet Megatron was sending it all away. Why? What was his former brother up to?

Former brother. There was a title Optimus once never believed he would give to Megatron. But how long had it been since he thought of him as 'Brother'? The battle for the Core near the end of the war? After the assault of Hydrax Plateau? The destruction of Tarn and the bombing of Vos? The invasion of Uraya? Or had it been after Megatron's assassination of Halogen, not one klick after the High Council declared _him_ Prime, and not Megatron? Optimus was no longer sure.

And now look at them, two former brothers literally waging war against one another. Planning, gathering intelligence, sending bots into battle, fighting over the fate of entire species. Their creators would be both proud and ashamed, though Optimus doubted Megatron thought about them like he did anymore. All he did was plot. And now the Prime was clueless as to what his latest scheme was. What was his plan? And what was he willing to destroy to accomplish it?

Knowing that sitting in his quarters and wondering would not bring him answers, Optimus set the data pad aside and picked up another. This one didn't contain alarming information, but it was still important.

It was Shadowstreaker's official file, or as official as it could be when they were off the main database, and it was in need of updating. Optimus had yet to add OIA, or 'Offlined In Action,' to the document, despite the fact it had been more than a jour since the battle that he did not walk away from. Before that cycle, the Matrix had given him a feeling about the young mech, like he had an important part to play in coming events. It had given him the same feeling about several other bots he had met, including Arcee, Bumblebee, and Elita, though he had told no one of what the Matrix said. But had it been wrong about Shadowstreaker? About Bumblebee? And about Elita and Arcee?

No, it hadn't been wrong. He felt in his spark that Bumblebee completed his role at the First Battle of Tyger Pax, where he saved many lives that otherwise would have been lost. That proved the Matrix didn't make mistakes, it was _always_ correct. But at the same time, how could it be right in this case? Shadowstreaker was offline, he was a soldier Optimus failed to bring home, yet another friend he had lost. His story was over. All that was left to do was close his file. He would officially be registered as OIA, and his name would be added to the long list of names Optimus intended to honor properly at the end of the war.

So then why was the Matrix still telling him Shadowstreaker had a part he had yet to play? And that he should keep his file as it was?

The Prime heard his door open, and he looked up to see Elita-One stepping into his quarters. He didn't outwardly react to how he felt his mood improve at the sight of her.

"Optimus," the femme greeted after she walked inside, coming to stand in front of his desk.

"Elita," Optimus greeted in turn, placing Shadowstreaker's file down and off to the side, giving the rose red femme his full attention. "What brings you here at this breem?"

"Personal issue," Elita replied.

That surprised Optimus. He had known Elita since Arcee was still considered a femmeling and not a femme, and very rarely did she have an issue, be it personal or related to her duties. "And what issue is that, Elita?"

"I am… Concerned for someone," she answered, momentarily pausing to come up with the word she wished to use.

"Very well. Who are you concerned for?" Optimus asked.

The rose red femme hesitated for a micro-klick, then said, "I am concerned about you."

Optimus blinked in moderate confusion. She concerned about him? Why? He was not doing anything reckless, as far as he was aware. "Why are you concerned about me?"

"I feel that you are letting yourself be taken up completely by your duties," Elita informed.

Now the Prime was fully confused. "My duties have always taken the vast proportion of my time."

"But never _this_ much of it, and it is beginning to worry me," Elita said. "When was the last time you sat down just to sit? Or made time to seek out your soldiers just to talk?"

Optimus had to think for a moment. It had been longer than a jour, he knew that much, but it also hadn't been two jours. It was in between. After another micro-klick of going through his memory files, Optimus found the answer. It had been a mega-cycle before Shadowstreaker's Quriomus Protocol activated, and he destroyed MECH and offlined Airachind. "The 19th of the human jour of May."

"That doesn't seem unusual to you?" Asked the femme commander. "It isn't like you to focus only on your duties. You also seek to learn the thoughts of others, to see how they are dealing with recent events, or what they think about different situations." She looked at him with worry clear in her optics. "That is part of what drew me t-" She cut herself off.

The Prime didn't need Elita to finish to know what she was talking about. She cared deeply for him, and he for her. But despite the teasing of the few others who knew about their feelings, they were both leaders, with Elita officially in charge of every femme soldier, and he in charge of everyone since he was Prime. They couldn't afford to give into their desire to be together, couldn't let their feelings blossom into love, as much as they wanted to. "I have not had little to no spare time recently. Multiple human nations are always trying to get something from us, whether it be as little as economic advice, or military aid. This last jour and a half has been particularly trying. Shadowstreaker's offlining has been difficult for all of us, and there are some human leaders who are having a hard time believing our lives can be ended just as suddenly as theirs."

The rose red femme looked at Optimus for a moment, then stepped around his desk and started going through the stack of data pads next to him. After going through all the data pads in the stack, she looked at the three the Prime had already gone through, and picked up Shadowstreaker's file and slid it in front of him. "Convincing them would be easier if you updated his file, wouldn't it?"

Optimus had no answer for that. Not one he could make sense to someone who didn't bear the Matrix, at least. "It would."

"Then why haven't you updated it?" Elita asked.

"It is not something I can properly explain," Optimus replied.

"Let me try, then. You feel guilty for his offlining," the femme said.

It actually hadn't been guilt, but now that she brought up the topic, he was furious at himself for leaving a soldier behind in combat, even if it was to save another. Perhaps failing to bring Shadowstreaker home really was part of why he had not been very social recently. "My failings as a leader have piled up since the war began. Being unable to prevent Shadowstreaker from offlining is far from my biggest, although I believe Arcee would disagree with me in that."

Elita's optics softened, and she looked away. The entire base was highly aware of Arcee's condition since they lost Shadowstreaker. She was colder and more detached than she ever had been before, even to the point of blocking her siblings when her emotions started to surface. And Optimus knew how much it pained them to see her so… Empty. He hated being unable to do anything for her, as well.

"She… Wouldn't agree, no," the rose red femme admitted. "But that is her grief speaking. She knows nothing else could have been done to save him."

"I could have had more Autobots accompany us," Optimus said.

"How many different scenarios can you create with that logic?" Elita asked, tone clearly indicating her question was rhetorical. "Arcee was fading, you were injured, and you were under attack from an unknown number of hostiles. You had very few options."

"And I chose to leave Shadowstreaker behind," the Prime stated.

Elita shook her helm. "No, you chose to save my youngest sister, and come back for Shadowstreaker once she was in the right servos. That is exactly what you should have done." She placed a servo on his. "My sister and her mate agree with me on that. And if he was here, Shadowstreaker would, too. He was the one who wanted you to leave in the first place."

Optimus looked at the servo on top of his, and resisted the urge to turn his servo and hold hers. He settled for just looking into her optics. "I know."

Elita held his gaze for a moment, then broke away and removed her servo from his. "I should let you get back to work. I need to get some recharge," she said, then walked toward the door.

"Rest well, Elita," Optimus said, and despite his discipline, he could not help but admire her for the briefest moment as she walked out the door, before he forced himself to look down at his data pads.

After she left, the Prime sighed and leaned back against his chair, thinking about how long it had been since they realized they cared for each other, and why they couldn't be together.

Sometimes, he hated being Prime.

* * *

><p><strong>(Human calendar) July 6, 2013 3:38 A.M (UTC-6:00 Mountain Standard Time)<strong>

**(Cybertronian Date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since Golden Age)**

**Unknown location**

Megatron marched through the unfinished halls of _Project:Overlord_, with Starscream and Soundwave silently following behind him.

The seeker was twitching, and he was clearly nervous at how close he was to Megatron, likely because of how much of the warmonger's wrath he had endured since he was revived. Soundwave, however, was totally emotionless as he always was.

Megatron and his two officers had arrived at the unfinished _Project:Overlord_ a few breems ago, after passing through multiple space bridges, and a three mega-cycle journey by standard FTL. The warmonger had ordered the Nemesis to travel to the _Project_ unannounced, as he intended, to conduct a surprise inspection of _Overlord_, and receive a tour of it, which the commander of the construction crew, the Constructicons' leader Scrapper, was giving them.

"As you can see, Lord Megatron, we've restored most of _Overlord_ to its state before your apparent demise," Scrapper said, able to speak without using a comm-link due to atmosphere being present inside the _Project_. "Wasn't easy, though. Had to work every crew overtime to replace the lost teratons of material."

Megatron gave Starscream a fierce, pointed look, at Scrapper's statement, and the seeker shied even further away from him. "All that matters is whether the _Project_ is back on schedule. So, is it?"

"Yes," the Constructicon leader replied. "The construction itself is back on track."

The warmonger smiled, crimson optics filled with twisted excitement. "When will it be ready?"

"Depends on whether you want it finished quickly or with _quality_," said Scrapper.

Megatron's only response was to just glare at the mech.

Scrapper shifted tensely and cleared his throat. "Ahem, right. We'll put our best effort into every square inch of _Overlord_, Lord Megatron."

"Good," Megatron said. "Now, with that clear, when. Will. It. Be. Ready?" He asked, placing a dangerous amount of emphasis on each word of his repeated question. He never liked repeating himself. It infuriated him whenever he had to do so. Other bots should listen the first time he speaks, not the second.

The Constructicon leader wisely took a subtle step away from the warmonger. "With a project of this magnitude and scale, I'd say at least twenty-five orbital-cycles."

Megatron let his breath out in an irritated growl. "That won't do. I want _Overlord_ ready for deployment in no more than a tenth of that time."

Scrapper nearly scoffed like he usually would at being told to build a project quicker, but he caught himself just he was about to open his mouth. "With all due respect, my Lord Megatron, but that's not possible," he said carefully, obviously not wanting to anger the leader of the Decepticons.

His tone had no affect on the warmonger, and Megatron came to a halt in the middle of the hallway, directly in front of Scrapper. "Did you just question me?"

Scrapper's optics widened, and he held his servos up in a placating gesture as he took a step back. "No, no, no. Of course not, Lord Megatron. I would_ never_ question your commands."

"Are you certain about that?" The leader of the Decepticons asked, stepping closer to Scrapper, backing the Constructicon up further. "Because it sounded like you said you weren't going to carry out my orders."

"Of course I would!" Scrapper defended himself, continuing to back up until he backed into the wall of the hallway, while Megatron kept on slowly advancing. "It's just that this particular command is a very tall order, and is impossible t-"

Megatron cut the Constructicon leader off by grabbing him by the neck and pinning him against the wall. "Speak again, and you will find out firsthand that _nothing_ I command is impossible," he snarled assuredly, as if there was no chance he was incorrect.

'Yes, because obviously you can never, _ever_ he wrong,' said the deep, sarcastic third voice Megatron began hearing in his helm, who he had named The Gladiator. 'You're infraggingfailable.'

'Begone,' the warmonger thought at the voice, still glaring Scrapper.

The Gladiator went silent.

"Um, Lord Megatron?" Starscream quietly asked, very carefully taking one step toward the leader of the Decepticons. "May I offer a sug-"

"Speak quickly, Starscream," growled the warmonger, turning his gaze away from Scrapper just enough to glower at his SIC, at the same time tightening his grip on the Constructicon leader's neck.

The seeker flinched at his leader's tone, but offered his input despite his fear, "Before you consider punishment, perhaps it would be best to give Sub-Commander Scrapper a warning? This _is_ his first offence to you, and he is a good construction worker. You wouldn't want to waste his worst, would you… Master…?"

Megatron stared at Starscream long enough to make the seeker laugh nervously and step back, then he glanced at Soundwave, to see what the silent intelligence officer thought of the SIC's suggestion.

The silent mech's helm lowered a fraction of an inch.

The warmonger dropped Scrapper to the floor, his servo immediately going to rub his neck. "For- Forgive me, Lord Megatron," he said, struggling to get the words out from his wounded throat.

"Save your breath," the leader of the Decepticons said, turning and walking in the direction they had been going before he grabbed Scrapper, leaving the Constructicon leader on the floor. "Show me what is still unrepaired."

Scrapper picked himself up off the floor as Starscream and Soundwave began following Megatron. "M- Maybe you'd like to see its overall progress, instead of just what still needs to be done," he suggested, still running his neck.

Megatron glanced down at Scrapper. "Then don't tell me. Show me."

The Constructicon wordlessly followed Megatron's command by moving a little further down the hallway and pressing a button on a control panel, which then began opening a window built into the wall to Megatron's left.

The warmonger waited several micro-klicks for the window to finish opening, then he smiled at what was on the other side.

Overlord had indeed been mostly restored to its former status, but it was still far from finished. Even at this great distance, Megatron could see that entire portions of the Project were nothing more than skeletal structure, or had yet to even have that basic construction process.

Still, Overlord would be glorious when it was completed, of that he had no doubt.

'It looks fasinating!' The Scientist cried in his helm, as if he wanted to take Overlord apart piece by piece.

'Be silent,' the leader of the Decepticons thought at The Scientist.

'He makes a valid point, Megatron,' a new voice said, sounding smoother and calmer than The Gladiator, but deeper than The Scientist, like a being driven by logic.

'Go. Away,' Megatron growled at the new voice, the fourth that entered his helm since he was revived.

Mercifully, the voices went silent, and the warmonger let himself feel relief. He hated those voices.

But he hated the one who spoke next even more, '**Release me...'**

Megatron sighed. He never would be free of these voices.

* * *

><p><strong>(Human calendar) July 7, 2013 12:37 A.M (UTC-6:00 Mountain Standard Time)<strong>

**(Cybertronian Date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since Golden Age)**

**Faster-Than-Light travel, entering edge of Milky Way galaxy**

"So, the humans don't have armor?" Asked Air Raid.

I was lying on my berth in the mechs' general quarters. Normally, a ship this size would have individual berthrooms or four-bot dorms, but the Collected was crewed by a much larger number of Cybertronians than normal, and it resulted in there being only two quarters in the entire ship besides the Captain's cabin. One of the rooms was for the mechs, the other for the femmes. Very simple.

A moment ago, I had been answering a question one of the Collected's crew members asked me about humans, since Flightstorm was in the Captain's cabin with his family. But then the seeker had cut in with his own question before I could finish my explanation. He tended to do that when he wanted something clarified, as I had discovered since we began our journey.

"No, humans don't have armor," I answered. "They're organics, they have to make their armor from scratch."

"That sounds inconvenient," Air Raid said. "Means even a little fall will break 'em."

"That's one of the most common way they injure themselves," I informed.

Air Raid seemed surprised by this fact. "Really? Just by falling down?"

"Well, only the elderly humans, or ones who have a sickness that weakens their structural strength," I said.

"Wait, does that mean they have an organic version of Cosmic Rust?" Questioned the bot who originally asked me about humans, an indigo mech called Freefire, who hadn't been off the Apex Sentinel before we left.

This was getting harder to explain. "No, those with a condition like the one I mentioned appear normal, it is only their internal framework that is effected. Cosmic Rust effects our armor _and_ our internal frames."

"So, they are disabled by these unique conditions," Silverbolt concluded from where he was lying on a berth above Air Raid's.

"Yes, in some ways, but as long as they are careful, and in many cases assisted by equipment and other humans, they can live happily," I said.

"I think this is a bit off-topic from my initial question," Freefire said.

I nodded. "It is, but I had to answer another along the way." I gave Air Raid a pointed look with that.

The seeker raised his servos in defence. "Hey, I can't stop my curiosity. It's how I am!"

I shook my helm and got back to what Freefire had asked, "Distracting questions aside, humanity is a very odd race. They are small, very physically weak in comparison to even many of the animals they keep as pets, can't fly naturally or survive underwater indefinitely, are v-"

"They can't even _fly?_" Air Raid interrupted, sounding very much like Wildwing when he was first told humans didn't have wings.

"Air Raid, shut up and stop interrupting Shadowstreaker," Silverbolt said, apparently trying to recharge since his optics were now closed.

Air Raid huffed something under his breath, but didn't speak again.

"Anyway," I started again. "Humans can also very easily be killed by a large number of gases in their atmosphere, at least when those gases are concentrated. They typically live for a single vorn, perhaps a bit longer at most. And they are very violent, even for a young race. Wars plague their planet constantly, and have since as long as they can remember. Yet, they are also capable of incredible kindness and humility."

"Small, short-lived, physically weak, can't fly or live underwater, can be killed by gases, are war-like, yet can also be peaceful," another mech, whose name I didn't know, summarized. "I have a question for you now, Shadowstreaker. How the _pit_ did they become the dominant species on their planet?"

I considered that question for a moment. There were a lot of things about humanity that made it seem like they shouldn't even be alive, yet they kept on going, expanding, advancing, adapting, but somehow still staying the same. They were walking contradictions, my former race. "I would say through stubbornness, maybe with some luck and craftiness mixed in there somewhere."

"Sounds about what I expected you'd say," the unnamed mech said, then went silent and laid down fully on his berth, clearly intending to join Silverbolt in trying to recharge.

"What about their culture?" Freefire asked curiously as soon as the unnamed mech was satisfied with my response.

I went through human culture in my helm, compared it to Cybertronian culture, and decided it was the closest match to my former race, with a number of obvious differences. "They're not unlike how we were before the war, but there are still many habits unique to the humans, and how we were."

"Like?" Air Raid inquired.

"Like economics, they can't agree on how best to approach them," I said. "The planet is divided into separate nations, and almost every single one of them has a different economic policy, and most of them believe their system works better than everyone else's."

"That's counterproductive," Freefire said, adjusting his position in his berth so he was more comfortable. "When you have conflicting views on economics, one side will always believe they were ripped off by the other."

"Pretty sure that's universal with _all_ economics policies," Air Raid joked, inadvertently stating a partial truth.

I shrugged. "Some races make systems like that work, others don't. Humans are one of the ones that make that system work."

"Still counterproductive," Freefire pointed out.

"I don't think they care whether it's counterproductive or not," I said. "It's how they've been doing their business for generations."

Freefire shook his helm. "They don't make any sense to me."

I chuckled. "You could live on their planet for vorns, think you've figured out everything about humans, then find one little piece of information that changes everything you _thought_ you knew. As I said, they're a very odd race."

"I'd say that's an accurate statement." Air Raid laid down fully on his berth. After he got himself comfortable, he went silent for a moment, then said, "Still can't believe they don't have wings."

I rolled my optics. Why did he find it so unbelievable that some organics didn't have wings? "If that's all you wanted to know, I am going to get some recharge," I said, looking at Freeride to see if he was still looking to continue the conversation, but he was lying down as well.

"My curiosity is satisfied for now," Freeride said, raising a servo to show he was checking out as well.

"Same with mine," Air Raid added, folding his servos behind his helm in an exaggerated motion. "I'm out."

With no reason to stay up, I laid down fully on the berth to try and get some recharge like the other mechs in the room. My berth was a little small for a mech my size, and it was far less comfortable than the one I had at base, but it would do. Thinking of how I was another solar-cycle closer to seeing Arcee and others again also helped me relax.

After lying there for a few klicks, optics closed and focusing on Arcee, I fell into a deep recharge.

But it wasn't as peaceful as I would have liked.

* * *

><p><em>As soon as I fell into recharge, I found myself in a… Primordial-feeling desert. It was at night, and a sandstorm was raging all around me.<em>

_I was barely able to see more than fifty meters ahead of me, partly because of the grains of white sand whipping around me in all directions, and partly because of how there was still enough light that I couldn't properly adjust my optics, provided by bright lights far above me that could only have been stars._

_Giant, black cubes made of water-like metal were at the limits of my vision, surrounding me, and suspended in the air by nothing. Green symbols and runes, written in a language I had never seen, appeared on their surfaces, pulsing multiple times before fading away, only to reappear several micro-klicks later._

_I looked closer at the cubes, straining my optics to make out details in the dark, clouded environment. They looked, felt, old and significant, and the runes and glyphs covering them amplified their… Aura, if it could be called that._

_Out of my peripheral vision, I saw a symbol on one of the cubes appear, brighten to the point it outshone the runes on the cube, and remain there, even long after it should have disappeared._

_I turned my helm to the cube, and saw the symbol being displayed on it was a green version of the one that was on the sides of my helm. But it was inverted, making the symbol appear to be something else entirely at first glance._

_Before I could think on why the symbol was inverted, it morphed, breaking apart and forming into a tendril of transparent green light. It moved toward me almost like a snake or long-necked creature, and stopped only feet in front of my faceplate, floating in the air like it was analyzing me._

_Driven by a curiosity and urge I didn't understand, I slowly reached out toward the tendril._

_The light 'Looked' at my servo as I reached for it, and another, smaller tendril split from the original and moved to cover the remaining distance between it and my servo._

_This second tendril paused inches from my servo for a moment, then brushed against one of my digits._

_With that brief, partial contact, the world exploded._

_The wind increased three-fold, throwing so much sand into the air that the finely divided mineral became a virtual wall._

_Clouds formed an instant, blocking out the light from the stars and splitting the sky with golden lightning that seemed to turn the air both hot and freezing._

_Symbols and images flashed before me at a speed I couldn't even estimate._

_Information flooded my CPU, overwhelming any and all thoughts simply because it was too much for my processor to handle._

_Everything slowed, astro-klicks felt like orbital-cycles, nano-klicks like centi-vorns, micro-klicks like eternities, until finally the information slowly retracted from my CPU, as if to keep me from harm._

_I felt myself fall straight back after the information left my processor, landing flat on my backplates. I couldn't see, not immediately, imprints of the blur of images were seared in my optics. When my vision returned, it was completely _wrong_. Things were made of glyphs and runes, numbers and equations. And _everything_ was like this. My servos, my digits, the flashes of lightning, the cubes, especially the cubes. Even the very _sand_ seemed to be made of symbols, down to the very last grain._

_Eventually, the visions faded enough for me to see things that were actually around me, and not just symbols and runes. Although, there were still lingering flashes and visions and that far more intense than the ones I would get after a session with a Cortical psychic patch, and it seemed like I was still covered in runes and glyphs._

_What the frag is this slag?_

"You should not be here,"_ the ancient, many-toned voice that spoke to me for the second time several solar-cycles ago said, coming from the opposite direction I had been facing when I arrived in this… Place._

_I looked at where the ancient voice came from, and saw a vaguely humanoid being standing there. It shared features with both humans and Cybertronians, but it had many that were its own. No mouth was visible, yet it had no battlemask. Its… Frame, body? One of those two, was made of energy and light, at least I think it was. Kinda hard to tell. It appeared to be armored, but it was also cloaked in robes that shined with more light than they should have. It towered over any being I had met faceplate to… Face. Even Prima would have come up well short of its chest. But its most defining mark were its eyes. They were a purer and brighter white than I had ever seen, and transparent blue smoke poured from them, and disappeared soon after._

_So this was the being who spoke to me. It had to be. "That statement would make more sense if I _didn't_ show up here when I was just trying to recharge."_

_The being just stared at me, eyes piercing my soul without effort. "_You are not meant to be here. Not yet,"_ it said, its many voices not even mildly distorted by the wind and sand._

_"And yet, here I am," I said, or at least I think I said that. Hard to hear in this storm._

_The being took three giant steps toward me, robes fluttering, but not because of the wind. It was when it moved that I noticed it was stepping across a very fine line between the dark I was in, and out of the light of five suns. One red, one white, one green, one blue, and one yellow, creating a strange, almost evening-like light outside of the dark. We were in both night and dusk?_

_Its penetrating gaze shifted to the cube I touched for no more than a nano-klick, then focused on me. _"You are unable interact with just a single Un'Okiv. Your processor cannot even properly comprehend this place. Your time to be here has not yet come. You must leave."

_Instantly, the wind became even more intense, and I could feel myself both in this place and the berth I was lying on. How was the being doing this? It speaks and wind intensifies? The frag is that?_

_I looked up at the being, its form mostly hidden by the sand blowing around me. "Who. _Are._ You?!"_

_The being's eyes flashed, and the two white orbs looked through the cloud of sand as if it wasn't there. _"You have asked that question before. It was not answered. And the passage of time between then and now will not change the response. The better question would be, '_What_ are _we._'"

_With that, I was gone._

* * *

><p>My optics snapped open, and I shot upright. I was back in the berth of my bunk, and the others were recharging peacefully, not even roused by my sudden movement.<p>

I raised my servos up and looked at them. The runes and symbols were gone, same with the numbers and glyphs. Although, green light still flashed before me, taking shapes I couldn't make out before they disappeared. But those flashes stopped completely after a little more than half a klick, leaving me sitting there, with even more burning questions I couldn't find the answers to.

Why can't I seem to ever recharge _normally?_

* * *

><p><strong>July 9, 2013 6:37 A.M<strong>

**Istanbul, Turkey**

Inside a small, cramped, indoor coffee shop, a man sat a table in the corner, carefully drinking the boiling Turkish coffee he bought moments ago.

The man's skin was fair, though that was not uncommon in Istanbul, where nearly twelve-million people visited every year. His hair was blonde, and his eyes were chocolate brown. They contained a look that many mistook for warmth, but in reality, they were cool, calculating, and hardened by war. And at an even six feet in height, he was only a few inches taller than the average local man. This, too, was not uncommon in Istanbul, especially when he was only a visitor.

His name was Ned Booth, formerly the CIA's best intelligence field operative, before he pissed off someone up the chain of command by refusing to kill more than a dozen people, innocent and otherwise, by intentionally blowing up an ammo depot, and he was arrested on the grounds that he was consorting with the enemy and threatened with treason. Those charges were only dropped when a no-nonsense Army general by the name of Shepherd marched into the interrogation room he was being held in, sat down in the chair across from him, and offered him a chance to join what he called, 'The Special Tasks Force of the 141st Division.' A real mouthful, and the general shorted it to S.T.F 141.

Booth joined the S.T.F without hesitating. But, he hated it at first. He had not been allowed to take part in field missions, what he was trained to do, because of lingering animosity between the CIA and the S.T.F, mostly because their fall guy was expunged. And the only reason he could even join the 141 was because he was smart, with an IQ of 147, and he used this intelligence to run covert operations smoothly and with virtually zero collateral damage. But he slowly began to love the new position.

Until he reached Clearance Level 8.

After running his fourteenth flawless operation, General Shepherd had pulled him aside, and revealed where the vast majority of the organization's funding was sent. He showed him weapons, vehicles, equipment, and materials he could have only dreamed of an hour before. Technology that was decades ahead of its time, and a surprising amount of clean energy sources that wouldn't be given to the public for another twenty years. Eventually, Booth had asked how and why so much money was being spent on researching technology.

Looking back, he now wished he hadn't.

General Shepherd had first made him sign a non-disclosure agreement, highly unusual, even by covert standards, then he showed him what_ really_ happened to the Al Udied Air Base in 2009.

Robots. Sentient, alien robots. It was like something out of a bad science-fiction movie, but he had seen the photos, the video, and they were as real as he and the General were. Shepherd had said the Decepticons and the Autobots, the 'Bad' and 'Good' factions of the Cybertronians, as they were called, had been fighting each other since long before humans could do more than grunt and bash things with clubs. And they were both still_ very_ much alive and present on Earth.

It was enough to make Booth feel faint. Aliens were living on Earth, a race so advanced they didn't die of old age, and had technology that made everything they had look primitive in comparison. And General Shepherd, the man he at first believed to be a great and rational leader, voiced his personal desire to form an alliance with the Autobots just before he informed him of his new level of clearance and placed a Level 8 access card into his hand, then dismissed him.

Ned firmly believed that it was impossible to achieve an alliance with the Autobots, at least a real one. How could it be? They had been killing themselves for an uncountable number of years, why would they treat humanity different when their war finally ended? Besides, allies shared information, technology, resources, personnel, pretty much anything that would strengthen both parties. But with the Cybertronians, that couldn't happen. They were titans, usually standing five times taller than a human, perhaps much taller, and they needed different resources than humans. And not to mention the fact their technology was so advanced the S.T.F's best scientists had been studying the weapons and bodies of the Decepticons that the Autobots killed, and they still couldn't even offer _theories_ on how their most simplistic of technology worked.

Oh, yes, they were studying Decepticon weapons and technology. Had been since the Al Udied Air Base was destroyed. Booth knew about Shepherd's trips to the Autobot base, and what he told them. He hadn't _technically_ said they were studying Decepticon technology, but the fact he said they were making weapons that were more effective against the Decepticons left a clear implication. Not that it mattered if they knew or not, the Cybertronian technology only gave scientists ideas on how to develop more human technology, and new ways to treat metal alloys, nothing based on alien tech.

Combine that fact with the logistical issues, and you had an illogical and one-sided alliance. And Booth wasn't the only one who thought so.

Lieutenant Arkeville viewed an alliance with the Cybertronians as an impossible goal as well. Ned quickly saw the advantages of siding with Clancy would bring, and they made preparations. Booth supplied Arkeville and his men with weapons and vehicles, and the former lieutenant gave him valuable, firsthand information about how the Cybertronians behaved in the field. But their alliance was tense, at least on his end. Clancy was far too… Extreme in him his ambitions.

Booth felt a shiver go down his spine despite his coffee and the hot weather. All Ned wanted was the Cybertronians to leave so they weren't a threat to humanity, but the lieutenant wanted to know everything about them. What their insides looked like, how much pain they felt, how to make their own versions of them, whether they had sexes. _Everything_. The man had really had something wrong with him. And Booth was a little glad he was dead.

Ned finished off his coffee and walked out the door, out into the hot, humid climate of Istanbul. He stepped across the narrow street and got into the little two-seat car he had bought with cash from a man outside the city. Clancy had taken the wrong approach to the Cybertronian problem. You didn't fight a technologically superior foe head-on, you annoyed them, frustrated them, made them_ want_ to leave. Made _everyone_ want them to leave.

Ned started the car and began moving through the busy streets of the city. He couldn't accomplish the task he had set up for himself, not yet. He still had information to gather, people to convince, equipment to find. But eventually, he would be ready.

He just hoped it wouldn't be too late for humanity by the time he was, and that he could stay ahead of the people sent after him.

* * *

><p><strong>(Human calendar) July 15, 2013 1:27 P.M (UTC-6:00 Mountain Standard Time)<strong>

**(Cybertronian Date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since Golden Age)**

**Faster-Than-Light travel, fifty-three light-years from Sol system**

I paced back and forth across the bridge floor, too anxious to keep still for more than one or two micro-klicks.

It had been just over a mega-cycle since my… Dream? Visit? Hallucination? I didn't know what it was. And I hadn't been able to make more sense of it than when I first had it. For that reason, I hadn't discussed it with any of the bots onboard. It wasn't that I didn't trust any of them, it just didn't have a place in any of our conversations. Optimus had a better chance of interpreting it, although he probably was going to be just as confused as I was. Seems like nothing normal ever happens to me anymore.

But that really wasn't relevant at the time. We were only a few klicks out from the Sol system, virtually moments away from putting what was essentially my plan into motion. And I was nervous as hell.

How couldn't I be? I had been gone for more than a jour at the least, and I didn't know how long it took to get from Earth, to Ventqura Munitum, then to the system the Apex Sentinel had been in. That was a lot of time to be away without any contact. And many things may have changed since I was last there. My fellow Autobots could have had to move to a new base, or we were now known to the public. They could have formed a permanent alliance with the S.T.F, or some other human faction. The war could have ended, and we just hadn't been tuned into the right channels. Or, one of my fellow Autobots had been offlined.

That one… Was uncomfortably possible. We were always fighting a larger force than our own, and we almost always received injuries. And since I only knew for sure that Optimus and Arcee were still online, I had no way of knowing the fate of anyone else until I was in contact. It was entirely possible a brother or sister-in-arms had perished since I was last on Earth.

Had I lost a friend while I was away?

"We're a few klicks out from the Sol system," Flightstorm said, causing me to put my thoughts to the side for the moment as I listened to what he said. He glanced at how I was pacing, then looked back at his terminal. "You planning on wearing out the floor?"

"No," I answered without pausing in my strides. "I'm just trying to keep myself relaxed, think."

"Normally I'd say you're doing right thing, then. But you should probably find another way of thinking," suggested the former Decepticon. "Because you seem more nervous than when you first started pacing."

"I agree with the Commander in that regard," Override said from where she stood near with bridge door, with Silverbolt and Air Raid on the side opposite of her. "Instead of clarifying your thoughts, your pacing is making you more agitated."

I wanted to argue their point, but I saw the truth in their words. I was more tense than when I first started pacing, thinking and worrying about things I had no control of. It was the exact opposite of what I wanted to do.

I stopped pacing and at sat an empty terminal, which belonged to the communications officer of the Collected, a blue and silver femme called Drift. She had already set it up for me to use when we got into the system, but I would still need to tune into the communications channel of the base when we dropped out of FTL, after she adjusted the comm system to the interference Jupiter would cause. "Can you blame me for being anxious?"

Flightstorm and Override shook their helms simultaneously, and the grey and red seeker said, "No, can't say I can. 'Frost and I were the same when we were separated from Wildwing, even though we could feel that he was unharmed. You are in a situation that, in some ways, is similar to the one we were in, only you're eager to unite with Arcee."

"Wait, how can being away from Arcee compare to being separated from family?" Air Raid asked, confusion written on his faceplate.

"She and I have Imprinted on each other," I answered, looking back at the seeker.

Understanding dawned on Air Raid, and he blinked several times in surprise. "Well that's… Really unexpected. Don't get me wrong, she's great, but she's also been turning down advances for so long that most mechs just stopped trying. I honestly thought she'd never settle down." He smiled and stepped forward to lightly punched me in the shoulder-joint, though I barely felt it because of my armor. "Congratulations on getting yourself a great femme."

I didn't think he quite understood what Imprinting was, but that wasn't surprising, since I had _no_ knowledge of it before the cycle my Protocol activated for the first time. "We weren't together when I was there last, and I didn't 'Get' her in any way."

Air Raid shrugged. "Eh, close enough," he said, then walked back to his spot next to Silverbolt.

I shook my helm a bit at Air Raid, and looked at Flightstorm. "How much longer until we arrive?"

The former Decepticon looked at a reading on his terminal, then grinned and looked up at me. "Right now." He looked at Trailshock. "Bring us out of FTL."

"Yes, sir," the navigator said, then began the process of deactivating the FTL drive.

After a few moments, Trailshock finished typing the commands to deactivate the FTL drive, and the warped view of FTL slowly returned to normal.

The deformed stars and light faded, and the view port outside the bridge became filled with the sight of a dim, reddish-brown cover of clouds that went on indefinitely, with lightning occasionally flashing. We were in the system.

I was just a short jump from home.

"Location?" Flightstorm asked the navigator.

"We're in the atmosphere of… Jutar? It's called Jutar, right?" Trailshock asked me, then continued when I shook my helm negatively, "Well, we're in the atmosphere of the planet we were shooting for. Right in the center of the storm Shadowstreaker said would be our best option for remaining hidden." He was referring to Jupiter's vorns-long storm, the Great Red Spot.

"Just going with the obvious choice," I said. The Great Red Spot's constant wind, along with Jupiter's atmospheric pressure, radiation, and radio pulses, made this the perfect location for staying invisible.

"Doesn't change the fact you were the one who suggested this particular place," Flightstorm said, before looking at where Drift sat at the secondary comm officer's terminal. "You working on modifying the comms?"

The blue and silver femme looked away from the terminal she was using and raised an optic ridge at Flightstorm. "You seriously asked that? Commander, I'm offended. I thought I was past being looked at as the rookie operator."

"Well, you _are_ looking away from the terminal," the former Decepticon pointed out.

"Details," Drift huffed in mock offence, then resumed her work. After a micro-klick, she finished typing and looked back at her commander "Comm systems have been modified. We're set to send and receive messages for as long as we stay in the gas giant's atmosphere."

The grey and red seeker turned his gaze away from the communications officer and focused on me, optics smiling. "You're up, Shadowstreaker."

I wordlessly acknowledged Flightstorm's words and prepared to enter the comm frequency for base, but I stopped as my CPU focused on what was about to happen.

I had been gone for more than a jour with no word, and now I was only moments away from contacting a group of friends, brothers and sisters, and potentially a lover, all of which likely had no idea where I had gone or what happened to me. Hell, they probably thought I had been offlined. It usually was obvious when a prisoner was captured, but with how I was taken, a mixture of lethal and non-lethal methods, that painted a pretty bleak picture, especially when they began to use lethal force _after_ I had last been seen. If I was in their position, I would have written myself off as offline the cycle I disappeared.

So what was I supposed to say in my initial hail? Pretty sure saying, 'Hey, what's happening?' Wouldn't be the best thing to say, and would discredit my claim of being who I was. I could say my name and request a response from whoever was at the workstation, but voice prints could be easily faked, and that also would discredit my claim. I could just send my official service number, which Optimus had given me when I was still in my training, but that would raise suspicions, since I was only sending a number and not actually speaking. Perhaps a combination of both? State my official service number, send a common hail, and say my name? That seems like my best option.

With what I was going to say decided, I entered the frequency of the base's communications channel into the computer I was sitting at, took a breath to help me maintain my composure and control my excitement, and said in English, **"Base, this is Shadowstreaker, service number AAF-EE-R-0717-061-003835, please respond."**

* * *

><p><strong>July 15, 2013 1:33 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

Arcee and her fellow Autobots had just returned from a lengthy engagement with the Decepticons, the focus of which was over the remains of the ancient wreck of the Nemesis-class war cruiser, Endless Slaughter. It had gone missing just before the war ended, along with its cargo of tank-mounted weaponry, and turned out to be on a remote island near Antarctica, buried beneath the glacier that covered nearly all of the small land mass.

They had lost the battle to the Decepticons, despite Optimus using the Star Saber multiple times. They also had suffered some injuries, albeit mostly minor ones. Pierced armor, mild EMP damage, broken gears. All easily repaired. She and Optimus had taken the least amount of damage, just some scorched paint and aching joints. Nothing rest and auto-repair systems wouldn't fix. But Smokescreen was going to be out of action for a few solar-cycles, since he had taken a missile to one of his pedes and ruptured an energon vein.

With no reason to visit the med-bay, and more reasons for her to stay out of Moonracer and Ratchet's way so they could treat Smokescreen, Arcee went to begin her post-mission routine of visiting the Safe.

Then the workstation, with its channels still set to broadcast its communications for the benefit of the base's human visitors, played a message sent to them from off the planet, spoken by the voice of a mech believed to be offline.

Everyone came to a grinding halt, and all organic eyes and mechanical optics turned to the workstation. No one moved or spoke.

The game the children had turned on after confirming their titanic friends, in some cases role models, continued without any of them playing it, and the characters Miko and Raf were playing as were killed by the AI soldiers they had been fighting.

Agent Fowler, who was at the base to take human-sized copies of the reports Optimus filed, looked at the main screen as if he'd seen a ghost.

Ratchet and Moonracer stopped mid-step and stared at the workstation, along with the white and blue mech they had been helping toward the med-bay. And the other Autobots were in a similar state.

All except Arcee.

For a moment, the blue and pink femme stood motionless, then she turned around and stormed to the workstation. Someone, somewhere, was using Shadow', _her_ Shadow's, voice. It may have been Decepticon like Makeshift, but even if it was, using her Shadow's voice was unacceptable. And if they didn't stop, even if they weren't Decepticons, she would make them regret mocking her with her partner's likeness.

She reached the workstation, quickly entered the command that would allow her to speak to the bot on the other end, and spoke in a cold, controlled, yet blank voice that had anger below the surface, "Who is this?"

* * *

><p>My spark soared at the sound of Arcee's voice, but my feeling of happiness waned moderately at the tone she used. She sounded like she was running on autopilot, numb to everything around her. Like I had been when I thought she was offline. So my suspicion that I was believed to be offline was correct. She must have locked down her emotions, placed her emotional walls around her. Getting through those was going to be… Difficult.<p>

Arcee very obviously doesn't believe I am me, and sounds pissed off by the sound of my voice. She probably thinks I am some kind of sick bot who's tormenting her. How do I prove to her that I'm real?

_**"Answer me,"**_ Arcee said again through the link, tone carrying a deadly edge to it.

It had been a while since I was on this side of that tone. Likely best to keep talking, and hope to come up with something to convince her as I go. "**I'm not a fake or imposter, Arcee. I am very real."**

* * *

><p>Arcee resisted the urge to punch a hole in the wall. She was expecting this unknown bot to hear the unspoken threat in both her statements, but they were still trying to convince her, and the others, that they were Shadow', her Shadow'. She was not fooled, not matter how accurate they were recreating Shadow's voice.<p>

The blue and pink femme narrowed her optics, as if to melt the bot on the other end of the channel. "Listen carefully. Do. _Not_. Keep. Lying."

* * *

><p>Yikes. I've <em>never<em> heard that tone from her, let alone have it directed toward me. This is not going well.

"She sounds pleased," Flightstorm said sardonically.

"Thank you for pointing that out to me, I'd have never known if you hadn't," I said, voice so quiet I barely even heard myself. I really had to at least get Arcee's interest, if I was going to have a chance of convincing her I wasn't lying. I needed to come up with something that only I would know, something that wasn't in any reports or database, and wouldn't be considered an important memory to go through with a Cortical psychic patch, but I also needed time to find something that only we would know. I was going to have to buy myself a little time to go through my memories.

I sighed lightly, just quiet enough to not be heard by the mic, and tried proving my identity again, "**I'm not lying to you. Let me ask you something. If I wasn't who I am, why wouldn't I land on Earth before contacting you?"**

* * *

><p>'Because you're afraid of what I'd do to you if you on the planet,' was what Arcee wanted to reply with, but didn't. The bot on the other end of the channel had a logical point. If they were an infiltrator, they would get as close to their targeted location before trying to fool the group they were infiltrating. That is what Makeshift had done when he'd taken Wheeljack's place. Not following that plan wasn't the behavior of a spy.<p>

But then again, if she was trying to pass herself off as a Decepticon, she'd go against typical infiltrator tactics, since that were well-known to those familiar to black ops. And if the bot on the other end of the channel was good enough, they would do the same thing.

"For the same reason it would be questionable for an offline mech to just appear on the surface of a planet. You are trying to create a story that is as unsuspicious as possible," the blue and pink femme replied, ignoring the pang of sadness her spark sent her at the thought of her partner.

* * *

><p>Okay, I admit, that was something a good saboteur would do. But, an infiltrator also wouldn't try to fool the group they were trying to get into by impersonating someone they knew well, believed to be offline, and contact them through suspicious means.<p>

Wait, am I trying to build a case for me or against me?

I pushed that thought aside. I didn't have time to consider every angle as I kept talking. Although, it would be nice to find a memory only Arcee and I had. **"But if I was an infiltrator, why would I try to impersonate someone who was believed to be offline? Why wouldn't I try to pass myself off as someone who was online?"**

* * *

><p>"He… Makes a rational point," Fowler said softly, breaking the silence that had fallen on everyone besides Arcee, the reports he was supposed to collect forgotten where he placed them on the human-sized computers.<p>

"I agree with the fleshy," Sunstreaker added, his own stupor broken by the human government official, who glared at the elder twin for the demeaning name.

Prowl's processor whirled audibly, having been analyzing the situation in every manner he was aware of since it began. "That does not mean he is truthful."

"Now _that_ I agree with," said Springer, cradling one of his servos, which had taken a few hits from rifle fire at close range. "We never found a sign Shadowstreaker survived."

"But we also don't know if he_ didn't_ survive," Ratchet pointed out calmly, a thoughtful look on his faceplate. "We found his energon, yes, but we never found a chassis to go with it."

Arcee silently listened to the opinions of her fellow Autobots as she went over what the bot on the other end had said. It would be more logical to impersonate an Autobot who they knew was online, instead of one who'd been offline for well over a jour. It wasn't something that fit with the operations playbook of either a good or bad infiltrator. Even a bot with no experience in infiltrating would know that. Why would this bot do that?

For the briefest moment, Arcee considered the possibility the Cybertronian on the other end of the channel really was Shadow', _her_ Shadow', but she closed her walls around that thought and kicked it out of her CPU. She couldn't let her emotions, her wants, to affect her. They weren't going to happen.

"Maybe you're just incompetent, didn't know the mech you're trying to impersonate is offline. And now you're trying to cover your tracks," she answered the bot on the other side of the channel, keeping the hard edge in her voice.

* * *

><p>"She's tearing you apart," Flightstorm said.<p>

I pressed the button to mute my end of the channel and looked at the grey and red seeker. "Are you trying to encourage me? Because you're doing the opposite."

"Just stating a fact," the former Decepticon said with a smile, before leaning in his chair and going silent.

I stared at Flightstorm for another moment, then turned back to the terminal and unmuting my end of the channel. Arcee's statement gave me an opportunity to reply with something I had said during our mission to find the ship that her siblings, the twins, Jazz, and Smokescreen had been on, and I recreated the exact tone I used when I first said it. **"Now you're just trying to make fun of me."**

* * *

><p>Arcee stiffened. Shadowstreaker had said those exact words back in November, just before they spotted the first gunship they saw during the rescue mission of her siblings and the others. They sounded so much like Shadow', her Shadow', that is was eerie.<p>

But, it was also infuriating. They were not only using his voice to taunt her, but even the same sentences he said. It took what they were doing to another level of arrogance and insult.

Her Shadow' had hated arrogance.

The blue and pink femme resisted the urge to snarl in rage. "I would stop talking while you still have your helm. You don't have the right to utter one word _he_ said."

* * *

><p>This was going well. Now she thinks I'm mocking her, and is threatening to offline me. Perfect.<p>

"I don't need to speak the human language to know she's rather… Annoyed," Silverbolt said.

I didn't pay attention to the silver seeker's statement, since I was too focused on coming up with something else to say. Instead of attracting her interest, I was making her angry. I needed to come up with that something only I would know soon. _Very_ soon.

In that moment, I finally found what only Arcee and I knew, and wasn't something that an infiltrator would deem important enough to look through the memory of.

When I gave her birthday present to her.

**"If I don't have a right to say what he said, can I at least ask if you're taking care of the musket I gave you?"** I asked in a moderately light tone, hoping, praying, that she would believe me. It already hurt to see her think I wasn't really me…

* * *

><p>Arcee froze. She didn't move, she didn't hear, she didn't <em>think<em>. She went completely numb to everything around her.

It… That… That wasn't possible. He couldn't be online. He _couldn't_ be. They found so much energon that belonged to him, so many signs of him being injured severely. And he had been offline for nearly two jours. Arcee had said goodbye, even though it pained her, and still did. He was gone. This bot couldn't be him.

… And yet, not even her sisters and Ironhide knew what Shadow' had given her for her creation day. She had mentioned it to no one. Only she and Shadow' knew he gave her that musket. And since the memory file was such a strategically unimportant one, it would be marked as noncritical by a potential infiltrator, who would want to simply look and play the part of the Cybertronian they posed as, and complete their mission as quickly as possible.

But… It couldn't be him. There was no way this could be her Shadow'. He was gone.

Against the protests and efforts of her CPU, her walls lowered just slightly, and her spark took over her mouth. "S-Shadow'?" She asked in a voice that was hardly loud enough to be caught by the workstation's mic, unable to form any other word.

* * *

><p>I had to hold back my relieved sigh. I had gotten through. She knew it was me. <strong>"Hey, partner… You know, you sound better than when I last saw you."<strong>

* * *

><p>One corner of Arcee's mouth twitched, struggling against the emptiness that had driven her for the nearly two jours. This was him, her Shadow'. He was online. Shadow' was still here.<p>

She didn't have to wait until she was Home to see him again.

"It's him. It's really him," she said, and her fellow Autobots shared looks, of surprise, unexpected happiness, confusion, and others, but she ignored them and replied to Shadow', her Shadow', "And you sound… Here."

* * *

><p>I smiled. It was clear by what 'Here' she was referring to, the fact I was online. <strong>"Well, I didn't want to break a promise I made to you right before our last mission."<strong>

* * *

><p>Arcee's emotions bashed against her walls, but they didn't break. Although she also didn't do anything to reinforce them. He was talking about what she strongly believed was his attempt at a confession of his feelings, and that alone made her want to talk about it right then and there. But she felt like it wasn't the time.<p>

Not yet.

"That raises the question of how you managed to not break that promise," she said, placing her desire for talk to the side, even though her spark was flooding her with feelings.

* * *

><p>She raises a good point, which is going to take a while to explain. <strong>"Arcee, the answer to that question is the definition of a long story. And no offence to those on the ship I got a ride on, but I really want to get there. And for that to happen, I need to tell you how I got back here. Is everyone else there?"<strong>

_**"Yes,"**_ Arcee answered quickly, tone no different than her usual one, but still obviously a little impatient.

She wanted me to get down there, too. Pretty sure that was a good sign. **"Hello, everyone. Been a while,"** I said, directing my words to the bots I couldn't see or hear. I went back to focusing on passing our plan along without waiting for an acknowledgement from someone besides Arcee. **"Alright, let me get started..."**

* * *

><p>Several klicks of explaining what our plan was, and why we needed to come up with it, I finished speaking and went silent, waiting for a response from someone on the other end of the channel.<p>

_"It is a feasible plan, if a little unusual,"_ Optimus said after a moment, not letting the silence go on for long. _"But it relies heavily on my abilities, and whether the Collected can make two jumps rapidly enough to avoid the Decepticons. Are you certain this is our only option?"_

"The comm officer had to modify the communications of the ship just so we could talk to you. You won't be able to lock onto our location with a space bridge," I replied. "And if we move, the Decepticons will be able to pinpoint our exact location, and then we'll be in serious trouble. This is the only way we'll be able to remain undetected."

Sideswipe, who sounded much further away than Optimus, asked, _"Then why can't you just jump into range of the cloaking field the first time? Why make two jumps?"_

_"We don't know the hacking abilities of the Decepticons,"_ Arcee said, sounding only slightly more like herself and less like a machine. _"And our long-range communications don't have the firewalls of our short-range channels. They could be compromised, which would lead the Decepticons right to us if we said where we were setting up the cloak. Not to mention the fact they're going to have trouble making a precision jump with all the interference they're dealing with."_

_"Goin' by dat logic,"_ Jazz said. _"We need ta find a way ta tell each other where ta go without actually sayin' it."_ He was silent a moment, then added, _"Oh, an welcome back , Shadowster'. But can Ah ask ya to give us a three mega-cycle notice dat you were comin' back? Ah am unprepared for a welcome home party."_

I smiled. Jazz had the ability to make even a serious situation humorous. "As long as I get down there, I'll be fine. Please don't try and actually throw a party."

_"Ah make no promises,"_ the saboteur replied with a tone that made it obvious he was smiling, then went quiet.

_"Humor aside, Jazz brings up a relevant issue,"_ Optimus said, returning the conversation back on topic. _"After I have constructed it, where do we take and activate the cloaking device?"_

I thought about that question for a moment. I couldn't give them set of Latitude and Longitude coordinates, since that was literally giving any Decepticon that might be listening a map leading right to us. I needed to talk about a place only someone in the Autobots would know about, or at least not give a name to the location I refer. And it would also have to be remote enough to hide a ship a kilometer in length. That wasn't an easy task, but possible.

And I quickly thought of two potential locations. One was where we found the Apex Armor piece in Australia, and the other was the location in the Sahara Desert, ironically the same place the Collected was when it was first on Earth. And since we found the piece of the Apex Armor in a Decepticon mine, the Sahara would be the best option.

"Take the cloaking device to the place where a ship carrying concerned creators landed, before leaving again with a small passenger, " I said, making my statement cryptic, but understandable to those who had been present at the battle last orbital-cycle.

_"Understood,"_ the Prime acknowledged quickly, his highly-intelligent processor having likely figured out what I was going to say before I finished speaking. _"I will begin the preparations necessary for your arrival, as well as the... Payment you promised in return for your passage."_

I knew Optimus' subtle tone of disapproval when he used it, and he just did. And he had a right to. I made an arrangement with Delta without knowing for sure if I would be able to come through on my end. I relied on Optimus being willing to build what they needed. But that in itself probably wasn't the problem he had with my agreement, it was the fact I couldn't back it up myself that he didn't approve of.

"I'm sorry I made a promise I am not able to keep on my own, Optimus, but I didn't have a lot of options," I said.

_"He already walked away,"_ Arcee reported.

That probably meant he was going to bring it up later, in person. "Then I guess he wants me to get down there so he can lecture me faceplate-to-faceplate."

_"He's not the only one who wants you to get down here, Shadow',"_ the femme I loved with all my being said. _"But some of us also have... Other motivations for wanting you down here."_

I blinked at that. There was something in her voice that I couldn't quite place. It… Almost sounded like an acknowledgement of something shared, but unspoken.

She continued before I could think about it more, _"I'm going to go grab some things before you arrive. When you get down here, Shadow', you and I are going to talk… About many things we've both been ignoring."_ She went silent and didn't speak again.

But I didn't mind being left alone, not after what she said. She figured out how I felt for her, like I realized how she felt about me. And she wanted to_ talk_ about it, but only when we were both down on the surface.

That realization caused my tank to tighten, and my nerves to skyrocket. I didn't know how to say the things I wanted to tell her. I had been gone for more than a jour, two mega-cycles of which I had plenty of time to think, and I still didn't know what to say. And the fact Arcee was willing to talk about it made no difference to my nerves and sudden anxiety. Just made it worse, in fact, pressured me to come up with something. But how do you condense more than an orbital-cycle of feelings into one conversation? Or express how much you relied on someone who wasn't there to get through a horrible situation?

… Or how that someone had been used against you, and a lot of bots had lost their lives as a result of that.

The memory of being led to my cell on the Hammer flashed before me, and I saw all the faceplates in cells with security, watching me with pity or interest, before they were forced back into their own torment when I went beyond their field of vision.

I blinked the memory away, though I couldn't stop myself from dwelling on it. Almost all of those bots were gone now, taken when my actions led to the Paraions deciding to fire on their own vessel. How many would still be alive if I hadn't willingly activated my Protocol? The answer was probably most, but all would still be living in endless agony at the servos of interrogators, Scalpel among them. They wouldn't want to continue living in that hell.

But how does that excuse being responsible for causing most of them to offline, anyway?

_"They're ready for you,"_ Raf's voice said through the computer, likely operating the space bridge while my fellow Autobots went to the Sahara.

I must have been thinking for longer than it seemed like. "We'll get ready on our end."

_"Good,"_ said the youngest human who knew the existence of Cybertronians. _"And, Shadowstreaker? It's good to see you back."_

The corner of my mouth twitched in a smile, distracting me from my thoughts. Raf was a rare type of person, one who cared about everything he knew, and stood by friends. I had a feeling I was going to need some friendships like that. "Technically, you haven't seen me yet," I said. "But it's good to be back. I'll meet you and the others when I return to base."

_"See you then,"_ Raf said, before he closed the channel I'd established with the base from his end.

After the link was cut, I turned to Flightstorm and switched back to the language of Cybertron so the others could understand me. "So, do you know where our hideout is going to be?"

The former Decepticon nodded. "I do. It's where we battled the Decepticon stealth frigate when we came in search of Wildwing. Lost a lot of good soldiers that cycle…" A faraway look entered his optics, then it vanished and he refocused on me. "Do you have any suggestions for where we should try and initially jump?"

"I do. Middle of the southern part of the planet's largest ocean, the Pacific," I replied. There weren't a lot of areas on land where we could jump without causing damage to human electrical systems, at least when we were outside of a cloaking field. The oceans, however, were virtually aquatic wastelands, in terms of constant presence. And the South Pacific had areas that were more remote than any other on the planet, even remote enough to allow no human technology to be destroyed when the energy from our jump spread out in a far wider area than it normally would at surface level. It was a perfect target for us.

"Going for a _really_ remote location? Good move. It'll keep the humans unaware of what's going on above them," Flightstorm said, looking at Trailshock. "Navigator, set the computer for a short-range jump with the targeted destination being ten-thousand kilometers above the surface of Earth, over the area Shadowstreaker has suggested."

"On it," Trailshock said, already working at his terminal. After he finished working, he reported, "Ready to go on your order, Commander. I even took the liberty of pre-loading the coordinates of where you landed on this world last orbital-cycle."

The grey and red seeker smiled. "Thinking ahead. That's why I keep you around, Trailshock."

"I thought it was because I'm the only certified navigator who doesn't work on the bridge of the Sentinel?" The navigator asked, feining confusion.

"That's what you think," Flightstorm joked. "Now get us to Earth before I consider replacing you."

"Yes, sir, right away, sir." Trailshock turned to his terminal, typed a command, then activated the FTL drive.

But unlike when the FTL drive activated for our journey to the system, the light outside didn't warp, and nothing was distorted. One moment, we were surrounded by the reddish-brown clouds of Jupiter's Great Red Spot, and in a time that would seem instantaneous if I had still been human, we were above Earth, at roughly the same orbital distance as many navigation, communications, and scientific satellites. Hopefully, there weren't any within range of the pulse the ship just released.

"FTL drive disengaged, preparing for second jump in approximately thirty micro-klicks," Trailshock reported as soon as we appeared above Earth.

No one acknowledged him, or no one that I heard. But that might have been because I was focusing on the fact that I technically was going to be back on Earth in less than a klick. I was anxious to step on its surface again, and see Arcee.

"Five micro-klicks to second jump," the navigator said, pulling me from my thoughts. He counted down the remaining numbers, then at one, activated the FTL drive for the second time in less than forty micro-klicks.

Again, our surroundings changed so quickly it was difficult to tell time past, we essentially appeared above the Sahara Desert.

"Earth is a… Peculiar planet," Override said, likely referring to how we had just been over vast ocean, and now were above a desert that took up almost a third of an entire continent.

Flightstorm either didn't pay attention to her, or was focused on more pressing matters. "Are we at the right place?" He asked.

"Yes," Trailshock replied. "I double checked the coordinates while we waited for the FTL drive to cool. We're where we need to be."

"And the sensors are detecting the energy released from our jump ricocheting around in the walls of a cloaking field about two kilometers away on all sides," Drift said, having taken over the duties of the sensor operator. "Trailshock's answer is right. They probably aren't liking the the windstorm our jump just created, but the Autobots are definitely here."

This confirmed news made me relax, as if dropping a burden I had been carrying since I was taken by the Paraions. I was back. There was nothing I had to plan, nothing to wonder how it would be completed, nothing left to do. Well, there was one thing…

"Alright, then. Find us a suitable place to land, Trailshock," Flightstorm said. "And to those of you in this room that are disembarking, get down to the cargo bay. I will meet you there once Wildwing and Cyberfrost are ready to go."

Everyone on the bridge obeyed the former Decepticon's order wordlessly, and Override, Sliverbolt, and Air Raid opened the door to the bridge and stepped out into the hallway.

'Guess I'm going to have to come up with something to say to Arcee on my way down,' I thought, before standing up from what was usually Drift's terminal and following the two Autobots and one Velocitrionian into the hallway.

* * *

><p>Five klicks later, I was standing in the cargo bay with Flightstorm, his family, Override, and the two Autobot seekers, waiting for Trailshock to land the ship.<p>

It had apparently taken the navigator some time to find a landing zone for the Collected, probably because of how blocky and heavy the ship was. Nonetheless, he had found a site open enough to set down. And, knowing Optimus, that was probably exactly where he had set up the cloaking device. So, we probably weren't going to have to go searching for my fellow Autobots, which was going to give me even less time to come up with a way to talk to Arcee. Great.

I put a halt to my brief musings when I felt the Collected shake beneath my pedes before going still. We had landed.

Air Raid looked at me after the ship landed, while at the same time Flightstorm went over to activate the control for the cargo bay door. "Time for you to go see your femme."

He doesn't listen well, does he? "Not my femme."

"Not _yet_," Air Raid said, then fell silent as Flightstorm activated the door control, and the large hatch opened slowly to reveal the Sahara Desert beyond.

The air was calm now, after the sandstorm our arrival created had ceased. The usually golden-yellow sand of the Sahara was reddish-orange from the light of the setting sun, also creating more defined shadows between sand dunes and rock formations. It was an appealing setting.

But I didn't pay very much attention to it, because I focused on my fellow Autobots.

They were lined up at the base of a sand dune a few hundred meters away, with a small metal box lying on the ground near them that could only be the cloaking device. All of them were there, even Ratchet and Moonracer, and they were looking in our direction, not talking or looking anywhere else around, just focusing entirely on us, or at least the entrance to the cargo bay. Although, Smokescreen was more focused on trying to use the crutches he had. Wonder why he needed those?

I easily picked out Arcee from the line of Autobots. She was standing in front of two metal objects, but all I could tell about them was that they were large. She also seemed tense, anxious, just like I was. And she looked like her normal self, beautiful and deadly, as if she had never taken a shot that nearly offlined her. Her armor even seemed to glow in the light of the setting sun.

"This is pretty," Wildwing said from where Cyberfrost held him, curious optics taking in the sight of the end of Earth's solar-cycle.

"I am pretty sure Shadowstreaker is finding something _else_ pretty," Silverbolt said, surprising me with a joke at my expense. He usually didn't poke fun at others. I must have been quite obvious in staring at Arcee.

Ah, well. It wasn't like I was trying to hide my feelings anymore.

Flightstorm stepped forward and out of the cargo bay with Cyberfrost, and the rest of us followed them, though I quickly let myself lag behind as I felt the real warmth from Sol hit me, accompanied by_ real_ air, and a _real_ light breeze.

Soon, I took my first step onto real ground for who knew how long, and I felt something other than metal under my pedes. The sand was warm, not hot, and in a couple breems it would be cold, but it was still a nice change. It was strange, I never would have taken note of so many little things before I was taken. Guess it's true that you never realize what you really have until it's taken away.

My fellow Autobots began moving toward us as we walked forward, or in Smokescreen's case hobbled. Optimus led them, his servo looking repaired and the Star Saber slung across his backplates, while Arcee paused for a moment to pick the objects behind her, which I now realized were my Ion Displacer and Nucleon Shock Cannon, before following the others.

We all met in what I assumed was the halfway point between the ship and the cloaking device, and we stopped about fifty meters away from each other.

Optimus took two more steps forward, then looked down at Flightstorm, his mate, and Wildwing, who looked at the Prime with joy and wonder in his optics, common looks when he had been near Optimus in the past. "Flightstorm, Cyberfrost, and young Wildwing, it is a privilege to see you again."

"Hello, Prime, sir!" Wildwing said, waving his tiny servo up at Optimus, fuschia optics shining happily.

Cyberfrost smiled down at her son. "And it is our privilege to be able to see you again, Optimus Prime."

"I second that," Flightstorm said. "But we likely wouldn't have seen any of you again unless there weren't some certain 'Bots who found themselves misplaced."

"I can see," said Optimus, looking away from Flightstorm and at Air Raid and Silverbolt, who were to my left. "Silverbolt, Air Raid, it is good to have you among us again."

"Sorry we're late to the party," Air Raid said, looking at where Jetfire stood next to Bulkhead. "Looks like the junker beat us here, Silverbolt."

The undoubtedly older seeker raised an optic ridge at Air Raid. "I see you still have a lot to learn on the topic of respect, youngling."

"Believe me, Jetfire, I've been trying to keep him in line," Silverbolt said, glancing at the seeker he traveled with. "But he's incredibly stubborn."

"You just need to loosen up a bit, have some fun once in a while," Air Raid defended himself, smiling in amusement as he moved to stand near Jetfire, with the seeker he was speaking to following him. "You'll know what I'm talking about when you actually enjoy yourself for once."

Optimus seemed to purposely ignore the banter of the three seekers, and he looked at Override, a rare amount of surprise in his optics. "It has been a very long time since we met last, Override."

"It has," the red and yellow femme said. "Well over eight-thousand centi-vorns, in fact."

"Why are you not on Velocitron?" Optimus asked.

"My Velocitronians have been a part of the Apex Sentinel's crew for the last two vorns," answered Override. "We had no choice. The planet was a wasteland after our... Conflict." She added the last part sadly, as if recalling a memory that had an affect on her. Seemed like there was a painful story behind that.

Pity entered the Prime's optics. "The war spread to the farthest reaches of space, and has touched us all in some way," he said. "Why are you here and not with your Velocitronians, Override?"

Override didn't hesitate in her answer, "I have been on the sidelines of this war for too long. I wish to join your unit."

Optimus, for his part, didn't look the least bit surprised by this. "Considering the request, I will need to meet with my lieutenants before I grant it. However, I do not believe it will take long for us to reach a decision. For now, you may return with us to our base."

Override lowered her helm. "I find this to be more than courteous of you, Prime. I thank you for considering to allow me to join you." She raised her helm back up and walked to the line of Autobots, taking a place apart from them at the end.

After Override walked away, Optimus focused on me, and his faceplate brightened so slightly that it may have been a trick of the evening light. "Your reappearance in this life comes as a great surprise, Shadowstreaker."

"Life has a way of surprising us, sometimes in positive ways, and sometimes negative. I would hope my survival is a positive one," I said.

"It is," the Prime said, and his optics looked to his left, toward where Arcee stood. "Your survival also brings great happiness… Particularly to a femme who has missed your presence."

I glanced at Arcee out of my peripheral vision when Optimus said that. She was staring at me intently, optics containing a look I hadn't seen before, which was both unreadable and meaningful. Not sure how that worked. "And she brings me happiness just by_ standing_ there," I said, more quietly than the softest human whisper, mostly meaning the words to myself.

The faintest of smiles appeared on Optimus' faceplate. "Then I would suggest speaking with her as soon as possible," he said nearly as quietly as me. "Your reunion with the others can wait for a moment."

"Besides, we're going to need to speak to Optimus for a few klicks," Flightstorm said, taking his son from the servos of his mate when she held him out to him. "This would be a good time to do that."

The Prime turned his attention to Cyberfrost, her sparkmate, and Wildwing. "Then let us speak elsewhere. Shadowstreaker likely does not want even more of an audience than he already has," he said, sending me a knowing look, before walking off to the side and gesturing for the small family to follow him, which they did.

Once they had taken a few steps away, Arcee picked up my heavy weapons, which she had placed on the ground, and walked over to me, then placed them on the ground again, near my pedes. She then straightened out and stared at me, optics still holding that meaningful, yet unreadable look.

I found myself unsure of what to say to her. And what _could_ I say? She was my partner, my friend, the one who accepted my Imprint, she was my everything, it had almost physically hurt to be apart from her, and it must have hurt her just as much. We may have spoken on the comm channel, but this was different. We were standing in front of one another, with nothing between us. It honestly was taking all my strength not to crush her in a hug, but I wanted to actually _speak_ to her before doing that.

After our silence continued for a few micro-klicks, I looked down at the weapons near my pedes, and decided that the only way to break the ice covering up conversation was to just act normally. "Did you repair those correctly? You didn't use any cheap, buy-one-get-a-hundred-free-parts in their reconstruction, right?"

The blue and pink femme's faceplate didn't even twitch at my statement, and she crossed her servos over her chestplates. "That's it?"

Why do I feel like that might not have been the right thing to say? "Um… Yes?"

Arcee blinked at me. Once. Twice. "Really? _That's_ the first thing you say to me in person? Asking me if I repaired your weapons correctly?" A bit of humor entered her optics. "Of_ course_ I did. What did you think, I'm some kind of amateur?"

So she was joking. Good. That looked bad for a moment. "Of course not," I said. "I was just making sure they were properly taking care of. Those are some good weapons."

"You mean they _were_ good weapons. Now that I've been taking care of them, they're _great_ weapons," said my everything.

"Maybe they are, and maybe they aren't," I continued our banter. "Did you make sure you clean them with good oil? The bad stuff leaves gunk behind, clogs up the barrels."

"Really? You're concerned about something as basic as _that_?" Arcee asked, as if in exasperation. "It's like you think I've lost all my skill in the last two jours, Shadow'."

And just like that, our banter ceased, our humour evaporated, and silence fell on us again, with Arcee's faceplate going blank again. Things were bad if we couldn't even keep our banter going. Really bad. How much had my apparent offlining affected her? And how much of that hurt could have been prevented if my battle with the Paraion troops and drones hadn't ended with me being captured?

In any way I looked at it, though, I owed her an explanation, and a serious apology for causing her pain, even when it wasn't my fault.

I took a mental breath. "Arcee, I'm sorry for how everything went that cycle. Th-"

The fist impacted the left side of my jaw. It wasn't hard enough to cause any real damage, but it stung, and it was more than enough to shut me up and whip my helm to the right. It also caused a few of my fellow Autobots to wince, from what I could see out of my peripheral vision.

Damn, femme's right hook is even quicker than it used to be.

I turned my helm back to Arcee, and she gave me a look so serious it bordered on anger. "Do not _ever_ do that to me again, Shadow'. You got that? Do not ever let me believe you're gone. Don't. Do it. _Again._"

As she spoke, she leaned toward me, pointing a digit at me for emphasis. And it was then, at that odd moment, that I decided I wanted to tell her how I felt. It didn't matter that everyone else was watching, I just wanted to tell her. I had put it off long enough. But how do I say it? There was so much that had to be said, and I didn't have all cycle. Do I suggest it? Is that a weird way to confess? Does the fact she hasn't said it mean I shouldn't say it? Isn't that some sort of rule? Or was that just a rule Sam Witwicky made up in Revenge of the Fallen? Should I g-

Oh, to _hell_ with this.

Before Arcee could return to her normal position, I leaned down slightly and captured her lips with my own. A feeling not unlike electricity started at my lips and spread throughout all my frame. But this electric-like feeling wasn't painful, annoying, or crippling, it was pleasant, enjoyable. It was like nothing else I had experienced before.

And it intensified when Arcee began kissing back, wrapping her servo around my neck and tilting her helm to deepen our embrace, and I found myself pulling her toward me. I felt as if my very being was brushing against hers.

We stayed like that for a long moment before we finally parted, looking into each other's optics. And it was only then that I realized my spark was pulsing happily, and that the unreadable look in Arcee's optics, something I had seen several times before, was in fact love, all along.

"I love you… More than I thought was possible for someone to," I said at a volume only Arcee would hear.

She smiled and touched her forehelm against mine. "I know. And I you."

"I know, too, figured that out before we left the Apex Sentinel to come here. Also realized that you knew while we spoke through the channel. I just wanted to finish what I had been in the middle of saying two jours ago," I said.

"Cheater. You had a head start," Arcee joked.

"Not an intentional one," I joked back.

Our moment was interrupted by the sound of clanging metal. We both looked over and saw that everyone was staring at us, some in mild surprise, others in amusement. Bulkhead, however, had his mouth hanging open in shock, which likely had caused the sound that interrupted us.

"Well, _dat_ conflict seems ta have been resolved quickly," Jazz stated humorously, voicing the look that was on everyone's faceplate. "Ah wasn' expectin' da two of ya to do dat until we were back at base."

Bulkhead closed his mouth and looked at Jazz in surprise. "You were_ expecting_ them to do that?"

"Yeah," the saboteur confirmed.

"Why did you expect it?" The green Wrecker asked.

"'Cause Ah' been tryin' ta get them together since Ah arrived on Earth, on account of how they clearly were too afraid ta do it themselves," replied Jazz.

Bulkhead continued looking at Jazz surprise, then seemed to realize no one else was reacting like he was, and he looked at the others. "Who else knew?"

"We knew after talking to them for just a few breems," Flightstorm said, gesturing at Cyberfrost.

"I trapped the youngling and convinced him to tell me," Jetfire added.

"I figured it out before Shadowsteaker beat…" Springer started to say, then paused and looked at the sparkling within hearing distance. "Some sense into me by sitting me down for a nice talk and some energon."

"We've known, too," Moonracer said, raising her servo and giving her mate a pointed look when he didn't do the same immediately.

_"I tried to convince Shadowstreaker into telling her,"_ said Bumblebee, leaving out the fact he had actually tried to blackmail me until I blackmailed him back. Pretty sure our agreement was void, now that I had confessed to Arcee.

"I just threatened him not to hurt her," Ironhide said, mostly to the yellow and black scout.

"We've been teasing Arcee about it since shortly after we got here," Chromia confirmed to Bulkhead, pointing a thumb digit at Elita as she spoke.

"Even _I_ was aware of their mutual affection," Prowl stated in his usual tone.

Sideswipe nodded. "Yeah, we knew too." He looked at his twin. "And now it seems that another femme's off the market. We need to step our game up, Sunny."

The yellow twin glared at Sideswipe. "Don't call me that!" He was silent for a brief moment, then added, "... And yes we do."

Almost unnoticably, Bumblebee moved just a little closer to Flareup, who was standing next to him, as if to keep her from the twins' sight.

Real subtle, Bumblebee.

Bulkhead looked around again, focusing mostly on Flareup and Smokscreen. "Am I the only one who _didn't_ know about this?!"

Flareup tentatively shrugged. "Bumblebee told me."

"I suspected, didn't _know_," Smokescreen said, barring from taking his servos off his crutches.

The green Wrecker took note of how he hadn't found a supporter, and looked at Optimus hopefully, since he hadn't spoken yet.

The Prime shook his helm once. "I knew," I answered simply.

Bulkhead looked like he didn't know how to react to this news.

"Ah, cheer up, Bulkhead," said Ironhide, slapping the smaller mech across the backplates, knocking Bulkhead forward a few feet due to his 'Light' slap. "Being clueless to a friend's budding romance is nothing to be embarrassed about. Now, the second time..."

We all shared a light laugh at that, and even Bulkhead couldn't keep a smile off his faceplate, despite being the topic of the humor.

I looked down at the femme that I still held close to me as Bulkhead started to defend himself, and she looked up. There was so much in her gaze I hadn't noticed before we kissed, so much that couldn't be put into words. That included a curiosity that I could easily identify and understand. She wanted to know what happened to me.

That was going to be a long talk, simply because there were so many things that I was going to have to cover. How I was captured, the planet I was taken to, buildings and the sphere there, Extremis, the Paraions, my… Interrogations… And my escape.

But they could wait until after we were back at base, and I properly united with everyone else I had been apart from. Right now…

I leaned down like I had before and made my lips connect with Arcee's again, and she kissed me back as the electric feeling spread through my frame again.

… Right now, I was going to enjoy being home at last.

* * *

><p><strong>(Human calendar) July 15, 2013 1:47 P.M (UTC-6:00 Mountain Standard Time)<strong>

**(Cybertronian Date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since Golden Age)**

**Ventqura Munitum, unknown star system in the NGC 3109 galaxy (Unofficially named)**

Extremis stood at the window of his sanctuary, sipping his cube of high-grade, waiting for Praxis to bring him a report he had been waiting on for far too long.

The Xel'Tor had escaped three mega-cycles ago, leading to the Hammer being destroyed. And yet, his analyst teams had taken this amount of time to formulate an answer as to what exactly happened. It was an inefficient investigation. He would need to speak to the leader of it after he was given the report.

The quiet beep identifying someone requesting entrance to the room sounded. Praxis had arrived.

"Enter," Extremis said to the empty air, turning around and slowly walking toward his gravity chair. He was not going to sit in it, but he was in need to checking his data feed from a project.

The door opened, and Praxis stepped through it, his right servo holding a data pad.

"What are the findings of the investigation?" The Paraions' leader asked, impossibly deep and mechanical voice unchanged, yet also making it clear the fact the report was more than anything else at the moment.

Praxis turned the report around, and presented the proper end to his leader once he reached him. "The Hard-Light Projector left very little behind, but there was enough evidence from what was found, and from the outer cameras of the refueling station, to reach a conclusion."

Extremis took the report from his first lieutenant, and read through it in a mere micro-klick. So, the ship had been crippled by Hard-Light entering its systems, as he had suspected from the beginning. That would make the sub-space rupture the Hammer opened an unstable one. Unfortunate. "They could not find the Hammer's sub-space stream."

"No, they couldn't," said Praxis, folding his servos behind his backplates and spreading his pedes out to shoulder-joint width. "It could be anywhere within almost thirteen-million light-years of space."

The Paraions' leader was aware of this fact, as he had created the sub-space drive. But Praxis was only following protocol. No need to rebuke the dark grey and red mech over informing him of things he already knew. "Or, the vessel has not yet completed its journey," he stated. "There is also the possibility that its jump led it to its doom."

His first lieutenant was quiet for a time, certainly thinking, going over the information they had. "Do you believe what was left of the Hammer was destroyed?"

"I do not," Extremis answered without a nano-klick of hesitation. "We are both aware of who was on that ship. All Paraions are."

"So, then the Xel'Tor is still online," Praxis concluded.

"Yes," Extremis said, giving the data pad back to his lieutenant before turning around and returning to his previous spot in front of the window. "And I believe he is the reason the ship moved at all."

The dark grey and red mech folded his servos behind his backplates again after being given the data pad. "Should we begin a search for him?"

"No. The Xel'Tor may be online, but that does not mean we can find him," stated the leader of the Paraions. "There are too many systems to search, too many planets and moons where the Hammer may have been taken to, for us to search for him."

"Then what do we do?" His first lieutenant asked. "The Xel'Tor is a critical part of your plans. We cannot complete them without him."

Extremis did not bother to correct Praxis. The mech did not know how many failsafes and fallbacks he had. "The information in his helm is not complete. Without it, he is of far less use than I believed." He glanced at Praxis. "We will leave him to whatever fate has led him to. He is of little importance at the present. If he becomes a critical component again, we will move galaxies to find him. But now, we do not have the spare time and resources needed for a search of such scale. We must press forward."

Praxis straightened his posture out even more than usual. "What are you commands?"

The Paraions' leader turned back to the window, and drank a little of his high-grade. "Inform the shipyards and the harvester crews that _Project:Reform_ is to begin early. And contact Stormblast, tell him he is to be given all the resources he needs to unlock as many technologies as he can, and to analyze the partial information from the Xel'Tor's processor."

"As you wish, Extremis," the dark grey and red mech said, turning on his heel and beginning to walk to the door.

"I was not finished, Praxis," Extremis stated tonelessly.

Praxis came to a halt and turned back to his leader.

"Also contact Lancer," Extremis said when his lieutenant had stopped. "Tell him that he and his units are to start hatching the eggs."

The dark grey and red mech ceased all thought, and he felt the faintest trace of uncertainty for the first time in many vorns, when they attempted the very thing Extremis had just ordered. "Extremis, with all due respect, I do not believe that is wise. They have already proven to be exceedingly difficult to control for any amount of time."

"Your opinion on the matter, has been noted, Praxis," Extremis said blankly, still looking out of his window.

Praxis knew he had just been excused, and he turned and walked out of the room, still wondering if this was the best course of action.

After his first lieutenant left his sanctuary, Extremis took another drink from his cube and walked back to his chair. He understood Praxis' uncertainty about hatching the eggs. Their first and only attempt to hatch them previously left several soldiers offline or in an infirmary, including Praxis himself. But they had advanced since then, improved, and learned from past mistakes. And their potential value far surpassed their initial risk. They would save countless lives, when controlled properly, and destroy even the worst enemies. He only wished he had the chance to have soldiers like that long ago… At different battles than the ones they would face.

Extremis attempted to crush his unwanted thoughts, but he found that he couldn't. Again. He had been having trouble keeping his processor of the past since he had first seen the Xel'Tor. And that… That was for obvious reasons.

The pure white mech looked at the far right wall of his sanctuary, where a hidden door known only to him was located. The room he stood in was merely his workplace, the room beyond the concealed door was his real sanctuary.

And it had been a long time since he had let himself step into it.

"Vigilance," Extremis said to the air, to his personal AI that only he knew existed. "Seal the main door and send a message with my identification that my duties will demand my full attention for the rest of the cycle. Handle any situation that comes up as your matrix deems I would."

_"As you command, sir,"_ Vigilance answered, its deep voice echoing off the walls, before returning to its usual silence.

The leader of the Paraions finished his cube of high-grade, set it down on the arm of his gravity chair, then walked to the hidden door.

He reached it in moments. Then he placed his servo against the wall, where he knew a disguised servo scanner was located, and also looked at a particular point on the wall that contained an optic scanner.

After a moment, the two scanners confirmed Extremis' identity, and the hidden door slid into the floor, revealing a room of surprising size on the other side.

The room was filled with objects that Extremis once carried in his sub-space. To anyone else, they would seem meaningless, but to him, each of them held a thousand memories of a past time. A past life.

Slowly, and without his usual, measured and precise pace, Extremis stepped into the room, letting himself take in every object he saw, remember every memory he normally kept buried in the depths of his CPU.

He sat down in the only chair in the room, located directly in the middle of every object, and he looked at each and every one of them, recalling every memory each object was associated with.

Extremis sat there for breems, remembering each battle of the past, every event he had been through, every disaster he hadn't been able to prevent… And all those he had failed… So very long ago...

* * *

><p><strong>And so, Arcee and Shadowstreaker have gotten together, at long last.<strong>

**You know, I first revealed that Shadow' liked Arcee way back in February of 2012. I know this partially because I remember the general time of year I post my chapters, and also because that was the first chapter Crystal Prime beta read for me. Now look at this story. Two full years since I began writing it *Woo-hoo!*, a number of new followers, and some who've been here since the start, a vast improvement in the quality of updates *I've looked back at my early work... The horror*, many, many characters, sub-plots, and main plots, and roughly 335,000 words since that particular update.**

**I have one thing to say about that. Holy mother of crap. That's... That's about 55,000 more words than are in Inheritance. JUST SINCE THAT CHAPTER. With the chapters before added on, this is over 400,000 words long. Am I the only one who looks at that and thinks, "Really?" It's crazy to me. It's INSANE.**

**... And yet, I want to go bigger, better. I have a book series that I have mentioned that I want to write. It would be well beyond the length of this, I believe. But I've been neglecting it, and only have the prologue written of the first novel. And THAT'S not even to be a rough draft, it will be a rough, rough draft.**

**So this is what I am saying. I need to work on my original books more than I have been, so I can actually get progress done on them, so that maybe someone, somewhere will go to a bookstore, pick up that novel, read it and realize, "THIS PERSON WROTE FANFICTION!" So I am not entirely sure how quickly I will be able to update.**

**Don't get me wrong, I am not going to neglect this story like I have been with my books. I love this too much to NOT work on it. But I also am going to be making a real effort to work on my novels at the same time. And I also have another idea for a reboot of my Lord of the Rings story, set in a different fandom. But that one is going to be a while off. Still, though, I am going to start working on multiple projects, so updates will probably not be as fast. With any luck, I will still update at my current rate, or maybe a bit faster, but I can't make any guarantees.**

**Now, as for the ending of this chapter... No comment. :P**

**This chapter's credit song is "Skillet - Good To Be Alive" To me, this song fits with the entire theme I had set for the confession/fluffiness that is THE scene of the chapter. At least, the first part does. The second part, however, is a totally different song, an that fits with very end... But not for reasons you might think. I leave you with that.**

**Please take a little time to leave some feedback on this chapter, since I did a lot of experimenting with how I wrote it, and how I presented certain things. Any feedback you decide to leave is greatly appreciated and loved by me. Each one makes me think of how to improve. And thank you, each and every one of you, for taking the time out of your day or night or read this chapter, which is even MORE ridiculously long than my last. :)**

**See you soon.**


	37. Home

**Holy. Crap. Did I SERIOUSLY take TWO MONTHS to write this? Really? Ugh. I am SO sorry, my readers. I don't know what to say. I mean, I really don't have an excuse beyond the absolute worst case of writer's block I've ever encountered. And considering how long this took, you can see it hit me pretty hard.**

**This one... I really didn't fit a lot into it, and I am disappointed in myself for that. For such a long wait, I should have fit more into an update. So I apologize, but this one is pretty much a filler, a break, if you will.**

**Thank you, everyone who reviewed, favorited, or followed since last chapter. Motivation is hard to come by at times, in writer's block, and it meant a lot to go back and reread a lot of your reviews. So sincerely, thank you.**

**Guest (Known as SunnySides) - I tried to keep them in character, since I know they are popular and I haven't given them a lot of face time. So I am glad you liked that. :)**

**And yes they have! It's a miracle!**

**Yeah, never liked Galloway, or plan to. So I had to go with the major idiot.**

**And funny you should mention that song. :P**

**No comment about the voices, but Megatron is nuts. This is fact.**

**dragonbookaddict - Really, you're just flattering me. I think of my work as decent. Always have always will. It is simply how I am. But nevertheless, knowing I have some readers who enjoy this as much as you do is really surprising, and affects me every time I see it. So thank you, thank you very much. :)**

***Glances at date* Well, so much for that last one, but hopefully next chapter will be nicer to me. Lol.**

**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.**

* * *

><p><strong>July 15, 2013 3:01 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

I sat at the end of the war room table, waiting for someone to say something, or just make a sound.

The war room had been added to the base since I was away. When I had last been at base, it was a small, empty room we had little use for. But, now it was twice the size of my quarters, fitted with thick, Primax-rich armor coating the walls, computer and video monitors displaying different types of data and video feeds, and a long metal and duraglass table that could seat at least ten more bots than it currently did. The table also had a holographic projector in the middle that could create interactive images large enough to fill the entire room.

After I had reunited with the rest of my fellow Autobots, Optimus had, at my request, called a space bridge from Raf, and showed Flightstorm the Gold he created with Solus' Forge, so a few members of the Collected's crew could begin loading it. He then ordered everyone to the war room so I could recount my story of what happened to me after I was taken, which I had just finished doing.

No one said anything after I finished speaking, or even moved, and I couldn't tell what any of them were thinking, apart from Flightstorm and Cyberfrost, who I knew were only paying attention to events I had not gone into detail before now.

The silence and lack of reaction from my fellow Autobots went on for almost a klick, then Smokescreen got an angry look on his faceplate, picked himself up from his chair, and hobbled out of the war room without even giving me a passing glance, as if he was disgusted with my presence.

The twins reacted in a nearly identical manner as Smokescreen, and they left the room as well, followed similarly by Bulkhead, Air Raid, and Ratchet, who Moonracer followed out shortly after, though it seemed she was leaving to go after her mate, and not for the same reasons as the others. But the human teens, who had been standing next to the table, left like most of the others who stepped out did. At least, Miko and Jack did, Raf looked more sad than anything else.

I wasn't surprised by their reactions, I expected them, in fact. My actions on the Hammer were very short-sighted and emotion, or lack thereof, driven. They had been the opposite of what an Autobot should have done… And they led to a lot of bots being offlined.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt, seeing 'Bots I called friends just storming out of the room instead of talking to me. It did. Yet it was also surprising to me that so many were still seated, with Arcee unmoved from her chair next to me. And her presence meant more to me than anything at the moment.

"You went through an eventful journey, while we believed you were offline," Optimus observed, finally breaking the silence, and thankfully not commenting on my escape. Yet. "A journey that has raised many questions concerning an equal number of topics. Would you be willing to elaborate on certain aspects of your time among these… Paraions?"

"Of course," I replied. "But, please understand there are some details I don't want to relive."

The Prime nodded sympathetically, then placed his servos on the table and intertwined his digits, his optics carrying his signature neutrality and patience. "Tell us more of their technology."

"It's extremely advanced, even by our standards," I replied. "Only the Primes' technology rivals theirs."

"Did they build the station we went to?" Questioned Springer, looking at me with interest from where he sat between Ironhide and Jazz, one of his servos shining from the repairs Ratchet gave him before the meeting began.

I looked at the green Triple-Changer. He had surprised me when he remained seated, instead of leaving like some of the others had. I thought, with how we had treated each other most of the time right before we buried the hatchet, that any progress we made to being friends had been erased with my debriefing about what I did on the Hammer, but it seemed like that wasn't the case for the moment. Springer really had come a long way from being an aft to Arcee.

"Everything we saw on the station appeared to be in the Paraions' use in some fashion, but in even more advanced forms," I answered. "And not only that, but they had security footage of the three of us while we were there. If they aren't the station's creators, then they know who is, and hacked their systems."

"So, the horde of bots on the station were Paraions," Jetfire concluded from where he sat next to Silverbolt and Air Raid's empty chair.

"Seems like they were," I said. "And that sheds a bit more light on why they were studying the Infinite Reverence. They were making fleets loosely based on its technology."

"Their fleets are a concern of mine," Prowl said, stoic gaze locked on me. "What else do you know about them? Weapon systems, shields, armor, I would like to know everything."

I wasn't surprised Prowl wanted to know about the ships of the Paraions. He had the CPU of a tactician and strategist, it was in his nature to review everything about an enemy's capabilities, and find a potential weakness to exploit. Unfortunately, I didn't have the technical specifications of the ships of Extremis' followers. "I never witnessed them in combat, so besides their general sizes, and a rough guess on their total numbers, there's not much I can tell you."

"Share what you know," said the SIC, apparently not caring about the quality of information I could provide.

I spent a nano-klick reviewing the memory of seeing the fleet above Ventqura Munitum, then answered, "If I had to compare their fleet formations to ours, I would say they believe in the power of numbers and sheer size. They had seven fleets made up of hundreds of ships, from what I saw, each centered around a super-dreadnought about twice the size as a Prime-class. And not a _single_ spacecraft was smaller than the Nemesis."

My fellow Autobots went silent at this news, looks ranging from shock to thoughtful on all of their faceplates.

After a micro-klick, Bumblebee said, _"They have a navy that's a large percentage of the size of the Autobots'."_

"Nine point eight seven four percent, to be precise," Prowl added, still looking at me. "And all are cruiser-size or above. This alone gives them an advantage over us in space warfare."

"Ah agree," said Jazz, pedes on the table as he leaned back in his chair. "An' we don' even know what kinda firepower they' carryin'." He looked at me. "Can ya help us out on dat, Shadowster'?"

I shrugged. "A little, but not much. I have no idea what their weapons fire, only their sizes and numbers. And based on what I saw, the smallest Paraion ship could take on a half dozen of our ships of equivalent class and come out on top. And that's just going by the thickness of their armor and the number of cannons they have, it's not factoring in on how low-tech we are compared to them."

"Or considering their sub-space capabilities," Elita added. "The ability to jump anywhere on a battlefield at any time is another major advantage they hold over average naval assets. Their knowledge of sub-space seems to be incredibly vast."

Ironhide grunted. "That may be, but the effectiveness of using sub-space in the middle of battle will be limited by how creative or intelligent the captain of each ship is."

"With their weapons and technology, creativity doesn't matter very much in fighting. All they have to do is stay in formation and fire away," I said. "But, either way, I _wouldn't_ want to go against a fleet commanded by the Paraions' leader."

"You mentioned him earlier," said Optimus, returning his gaze on me after he had looked at each bot as they spoke. "What else can you tell us about this 'Extremis'?"

I had to repress a shudder at the thought of the one conversation I had with the Paraion leader. "Let me put it this way, Optimus. I, while it was admittedly stupid, faced Megatron on my own. He walked toward me as I shot at him, and he _dodged_ everything with barely even an effort. And without a care, he shot through my tank and sent me into stasis lock. I spent probably _fifteen klicks_ with Extremis, spoke to him in only _one_, continued conversation, and he scares me more than Megatron _ever_ will."

My fellow Autobots seemed slightly surprised by my words, and I didn't blame them. No one in their right CPU, or mind, would be more afraid of someone they had a single conversation with, than someone else who nearly ended their life.

But then again, all those other people and bots hadn't met Extremis.

"What about him intimidates you, Shadowstreaker?" Optimus asked, his optics laced with genuine confusion, not something typically found in his wise gaze.

I chuckled flatly. "The more accurate question would be, 'What doesn't'? He's larger than Megatron, more heavily armored than a starship, acts more like machine than a Cybertronian, and has abilities I thought only the Thirteen could have."

"What abilities?" Prompted Silverbolt, sitting between the empty seats of Air Raid and Smokescreen.

"He's able to space bridge himself, along with anyone he touches, to wherever he wants, and has some form of telekinesis," I replied. "Those are the only two abilities I witnessed him use, but I have the feeling he has many more."

Silverbolt's wings twitched in discomfort. "He sounds dangerous."

"Very," I said. "And even without those abilities, he has an intellect that is just as disconcerting, which is backed up by an intelligence network that has unprecedented access to a wide number of databases."

That got Optimus, Prowl, and Jazz's attention immediately. "Do you know if this network has runtimes within our own systems?" The Prime asked, voicing the same question his lieutenants had, judging from the look in Prowl's optics, and the way Jazz took his pedes off the table.

"There are," I confirmed. "And many other places. He has links into Decepticon, Autobot, and the old civilian databases. The sales records of ancient Cybertronian corporations are in his possession, along with records from_ every_ Cybertronian city. Hell, he even has access to the _Hall of Records._"

Optimus blinked once, and his optic ridges lowered several inches. "That should not be possible. The only active Cybertronian databases are those maintained by we Autobots, and the Decepticons. All others have been either destroyed or lost. Not even the systems of the Hall of Records remain online."

"Tell that to Extremis," I said. "He somehow has all that data at the tip of his digits."

"If Extremis has the Hall of Records' data in the systems of his organization, then he must, at some point, have visited the main computer of the Hall and copied the entirety of the mainframe," concluded Elita, faceplate both thoughtful and slightly uncomfortable. "Optimus used that building as the Autobot HQ from the beginning of the war, until most of Cybertron's population dispersed. And since copying the information of the Hall of Records must have taken mega-cycles, he could not have done so before we left the planet."

"Or, he was there da whole time, an' we never knew who da mech was," Jazz said bluntly.

"What are ya saying, Jazz, that we didn't notice a massive, pure white, tank of an unknown mech just _walking_ around our own base?" Ironhide asked, his tone carrying just a hint of incredulousness.

The saboteur shrugged. "Maybe not. But think 'bout this, 'Hide. Shadowster' said Extremis has abilities only found in da Thirteen, or so we believe. An' since bots like Makeshift are able ta look like someone else, what can da Primes do, if they don' wanna be seen?"

No one wanted to comment on Jazz's words, or the implication they brought. And I was with them in that regard. For all we knew, Extremis could shapeshift like Makeshift had done, which meant he could have been among the Autobots or the Decepticons throughout the _entire_ _war_ and no one noticed. Or, perhaps more disturbingly, he had the ability to hide himself from the sight of others, such as with an invisibility field, and he had walked right up to the main terminal of the Hall of Records and copied the entire database. Either way, it made me feel less secure inside our hidden base, if it really _was_ hidden.

"Until there is evidence supporting this, your statement will remain a theory, Jazz," Optimus said, breaking the layer of silence that had fallen on us. "But, it would be wise to tighten our security." He gave Prowl a look at that.

The SIC nodded marginally at the unspoken command. "I will consult with Ratchet and Moonracer on methods we can use to improve security on Autobot databases across the galaxies, once this meeting has come to a conclusion."

"The three of us will," the Prime corrected, glancing at Jazz meaningfully, who raised a servo to show he understood before he leaned back in his chair again. Optimus looked at me. "Do you know anything else about Extremis?"

"Nothing," I answered without pause. "That mech reveals only what he wishes to be known, and he allowed me to know only how I would have been involved in his plans, nothing else."

"And how were you involved with his plans, beyond unlocking the door to a giant sphere with your Xel'Tor magic?" Chromia asked in a deadpan, making a mild joke by suggesting that being the Xel'Tor gave me magical abilities… But then again, not one of us even knew what my title meant, so maybe being whatever the Xel'Tor was would allow me to do things I couldn't normally do…

Getting off topic. "He wanted me to give him access to every locked system inside the complex I mentioned during my debriefing," I said. "Doing that would have given the Paraions a wealth of technology from the Age of the Primes to research without any restrictions, so I refused. Although, it wasn't like I could have given them access in the first place. I know less about that place then they do."

"But Extremis didn't know that," Springer said.

"No. He thought I knew how to open the sphere, as well as everything else in the 'Master Registry and Seed Nexus,' as Extremis called the complex he space bridged us to," I said.

_"'Us'?"_ Bumblebee asked with a confused expression on his faceplate. "_Do you mean there was someone else with you as you spoke to Extremis? Or are you just forming a split personality?"_

"The former," I responded, ignoring the yellow and black scout's joke. "The other bot was a mech called Praxis, Extremis' SIC. He's similar to his leader in some ways, though he can't match Extremis in any of them. He was the one who… Brought me to the Hammer."

My fellow Autobots, besides Prowl, Arcee, and Optimus, shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the Hammer. That was expected, given how I described what happened on that ship, but it also signaled the conversation was going to get more serious.

"After they discovered you did not know how to unlock the complex's systems, I assume," Optimus said before a layer of ice could form over the discussion.

"Yeah," I answered simply, not seeing the point of adding anything else to my response since the Prime correctly guessed what happened.

"And there the Paraions searched your processor for, what, exactly?" Asked Override, speaking for the first time, sitting at least two chairs away from the nearest Autobot. She probably didn't think it appropriate to sit near members of a unit she was not yet a part of, or involve herself in a matter that concerned that unit, yet couldn't keep silent when the conversation approached a topic she found intriguing.

I inadvertently flinched at the reminder of the purpose of my interrogations, of Scalpel. He took such pleasure in making me feel pain, in shocking me, ripping my memories from my CPU, torturing me even more when he didn't find what he was looking for, at times injecting me with a solution that prevented my auto-repair systems from working, leaving me to freeze in my cell, how h-

My painful memories were pushed to the side when I felt Arcee grab her servo under the table, gripping it gently. I looked at her, and saw a reassuring look in her optics, making me focus on the present and not the past, and acknowledge the fact she had gone through similar treatment at the servos of Airachnid, and came out okay. Even without that, though, her minor action was enough to keep the memories away.

"They were looking for the way to unlock the systems of the Registry, primarily the sphere," I answered as I straightened in a chair without letting go of Arcee's servo.

"Did they find what they wanted?" Flareup asked quietly, her chair a little closer to Bumblebee than it had been at the beginning of my debriefing.

Guess the others who left aren't the only ones uncomfortable with my presence. But at least she hadn't left. "No, they apparently didn't. That didn't stop Scalpel, the chief interrogator, from trying again and again to find it, though."

Flareup blinked. "Why did he keep searching for what they wanted when you didn't have it?"

"Because Extremis probably ordered him to make sure I didn't have what they were looking for. That and Scalpel was just a sadistic bastard who liked Cortical psychic patches too much," I replied.

"If he used a Cortical psychic patch, then you must have seen everything he was copying from your CPU," Jetfire said in a tone I couldn't place, but seemed like a mix between an emotionless question and a pitying statement.

"If you call having your life copied and stored on a lifeless computer in order for someone to have access to information you've never seen before, then you're correct," I said, the faintest trace of a clipped tone slipping into my voice. I didn't want to snap at all, especially now, but this particular part about the Hammer was… A sensitive matter for me. Talking about what was essentially torture was never easy. And the only reason I wasn't being pulled back into my painful memories of my time in Scalpel's care was because Arcee was holding onto my servo, and I onto hers.

"What information did you see along with your memories?" Asked Elita.

I shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea. Everything I saw was so distorted I couldn't distinguish any shapes or symbols in anything. I can't even do so now, when I can relive and pause those memories. And the encounter I spoke of with The Being, as I am going to call him from now on, was even less understandable than my time on the Hammer."

Optimus hummed softly, his optics filled with a thoughtful look. "Questions have surrounded you since your mission to the station, Shadowstreaker. For every answer we find, a dozen more are required. And with your seeing the mark on your helm on buildings created by the Thirteen, and again during your encounter with The Being, the hidden meaning in your symbol is yet another mystery. Your mere presence has become a puzzle, a question."

"Same with your actions and morals," Ironhide added, tone carefully neutral.

It was very obvious what he was referring to, since we had been talking about the Hammer only a few moments ago. Time to face the music. "You're talking about my Protocol, and how I escaped." The look on Ironhide's faceplate told me I was correct, and I continued, "You obviously have something to say, so go ahead. That goes for anyone else, too."

"What the frag is wrong with you?" The general weapons specialist asked almost before I had finished speaking, his rough voice hard with anger. "Did you think about the 'Bots onboard that ship when you _willingly_ went berzerk? Or even try to stop yourself as you systematically slaughtered everything in your path?"

His words hit me like his punches, but Flightstorm was quick to come to my defense, despite the fact I didn't try to do so myself, "That's not how the Quriomus Protocol works. Once it's activated, the bot who has the Protocol can't stop it. The only way it turns off is either the mech runs out of energon, or what the Protocol views as a threat to the femme they Imprinted on is completely and utterly destroyed."

Arcee's frame stiffened at the mention of Imprinting, likely because she found it as strange as I did, but she relaxed as the Wrecker officer looked at Flightstorm. "And how do ya know that?"

"Because I have the same Protocol," the grey and red seeker answered. "And I didn't know I had it until 'Frost and I landed on a planet along with the other neutrals in our transport, and she was almost taken by a Cybertronian marauder."

"'Almost taken'?" Ironhide asked, likely noting the former Decepticon's choice of wording.

"I offlined all of them before they were able to move her ten feet," Flightstorm said, as if his statement had been clear in suggesting that. "And I had no control over my actions, no thought considering what I was doing. No mech does when it activates. The Protocol takes over everything, pushes your rationality to the side. Then it neutralizes the threat to the one the mech Imprinted on." He looked down at his mate, and she looked up at him in understanding. "That is what the Protocol does, and it will not stop until the threat is gone, or the mech is sedated or runs critically low on energon."

"Arcee wasn't threatened when Shadowstreaker willingly activated his Protocol," Ironhide pointed out, the disapproval of that particular part as clear as crystal.

The former Decepticon shrugged. "Maybe, but view it from Shadowstreaker's point of view. He was alone, had been for what seemed like much longer than a jour, with no knowledge of Arcee or Optimus' fate. The mech responsible for putting him through his terrible treatment dropped a bomb on him. The femme he loves is gone, offlined slowly by loss of energon." He placed his servos on the table and leaned forward toward Ironhide. "What would you do if you were in that situation, cut off from all communications from those you care about, and you're told Chromia was offline? And on top of that, _everyone_ around you is part of the group that offlined her. So, what, Ironhide? What would _you_ do?"

Ironhide was silent for several long moments, and he glanced at his mate, who had a knowing look on her faceplate. "If I had somehow broken the laws of a sparkbond and lived through her offlining, I'd… Offline anyone pointing a gun at me."

"And that, right there, would be my point," Flightstorm said, leaning away from Ironhide and returning fully to his chair. "If you would have done the same in his position, then how is it right to be angry at him?"

Externally, I was unaffected by Flightstorm's defense of me, but internally I was moved. He had no reason to try and help convince the others, yet he did so without hesitating, without being neutral, rather ironically. It was nice to see I had at least two bots supporting me. Him, and more importantly, Arcee, since she had yet to let go of my servo, and had, in fact, tightened her grip on it.

But, their support wasn't going to justify my actions, or bring back all the souls that were lost because of me… Because I believed the words of an insane sadist so easily...

"Personal opinions on the matter are irrelevant," Prowl stated, faceplate emotionless and unreadable. "The fact is, Shadowstreaker purposely activated a dangerous protocol with no thought regarding the consequences of its use. This behavior is not acceptable, and cannot be dismissed or allowed to go unpunished. He took an oath to protect his brothers and sisters in arms with his life, when his training was complete. It is his duty to remain true to that oath, not ignore it."

I saw Arcee give the stoic SIC a glare out of my peripheral vision, but she dropped it when I caught her optic and shook my helm. Prowl's words might have hurt, but they were also correct. I had thrown my duty aside when I searched for my Protocol and activated it, heedless of what would come after. And there was no use in arguing against that point, not when it led to other 'Bots being caught in the middle of the endless rage of the Quriomus Protocol. If there was ever a time I needed to be disciplined, it was now.

"He reacted like any mech would, to finding out the one they love to was offline, or at least being deceived into believing they are. Ironhide just confirmed this," said Jetfire. "He did not commit his actions with the intent of harming Autobots. Activating his Protocol may have ended tragically, but we can't shun him and say he went against his oath, when even _you_ would have wanted to do the same had you been in his place."

Something flashed in Prowl's optics at Jetfire's words, but it was gone so quickly it was impossible to determine what it had been. "As I said, personal opinions are irrelevant," he said. "We cannot ignore Shadowstreaker's actions."

"I'm not saying we _ignore_ them," Jetfire said. "I am saying we can't condemn him for them."

"I agree with that," Jazz said without his usual accent. He always spoke with a Southern drawl, but it was just his preferred method of using English. In reality he had no accent. But, as I had learned since I had known him, it was only when the saboteur spoke without an accent that he was _truly_ serious. "But we have to do _something_ about his actions."

Optimus, who had been giving his full attention to each bot that spoke, looked at me when Jazz finished speaking. "You have been silent throughout most of this discussion, Shadowstreaker, and it involves you directly. What do you have to say, regarding your actions?"

My fellow Autobots turned to me at Optimus' words, and I looked at each of them, focusing on Arcee a moment longer than the rest, before I answered, "What is there to say? I purposefully went on a rampage, offlined anyone that got in my way, and ended up being responsible for probably a thousand bots losing their lives needlessly, with an unknown number of them being Autobots." I glanced down at my servos, weapons I had used with brutal effectiveness when my Protocol was active. "I made a conscious decision in activating my Protocol, searched for it,_ embraced_ it. And that decision led to many bots losing their lives when they had done nothing." I looked back up at the Prime. "Not only that, there's_ nothing_ I can say or do to bring them back. They're gone. And I'm not going to be able to redeem myself for ending so many lives."

Arcee's grip on my servo increased to the point of it almost being painful, and she gave me a sharp look that told me she was going to have words with me later. Great, we're courted for all of a breem and she already wants to talk to me in private. Things are going _real_ well.

Optimus gave me a similar look, though it didn't have an affect behind it like Arcee's did. "There are few things in this life that would cause someone to be considered unredeemable, Shadowstreaker."

"I'm sure there'd be about a thousand bots who disagree with that, Optimus, but they're not here. And because of me, they never will be," I said bluntly. "I see no possible way to redeem myself from that."

"No one does, when they have done something requiring them to seek atonement for their actions," Optimus said. "But, that does not mean a way will not be presented to you."

I went silent when Optimus said that. He was both right and wrong, in my opinion. He was right in how the one who did something horribly wrong couldn't see beyond what they did, and couldn't see a way to find redemption from their actions. But with this, and how serious it was, I think he was wrong in me being able to atone for what I did. From where I stood, there was too much energon on my servos, too many relatively innocent lives that had been ended because of me. What could I possibly do to make up for that?

The Prime sat up straight in his chair, optics scanning the Autobots, two neutrals, and one Velocitronian in the room. "I believe every relevant topic involving Shadowstreaker has been discussed, but only one requires everyone to voice their thoughts. What are your final opinions, relating to Shadowstreaker's actions?"

A silence fell on the room, but Bumblebee broke it quickly by being the first to answer Optimus' question, _"I can look beyond it. He wasn't trying to harm the other prisoners, or was attacking the Paraions for no reason. Of course, his unchecked fury is… Unnerving to hear, but I also know the circumstances behind his anger were somewhat unique and… Understandable."_ His door-wings twitched, and his optics shot toward the femme next to him.

Flareup, rather obviously, made it a point to not make optic contact with Bumblebee. "I agree with 'Bee, for the most part," she said. "But this Quriomus Protocol disturbs me. What exactly does it take to activate it? Just having the… Um, bot on the other end of the Imprint being in danger? What happens if we're in the middle of a battle and it activates just because Arcee is grazed by a bullet?"

I weighed the words of both Bumblebee and Flareup, while I saw Arcee shift very slightly when Imprinting was mentioned again. That was the second time she had reacted to the phenomenon. She likely was going to want to discuss it whenever we spoke in private.

On Bumblebee's end of the conversation, it was relieving to see he was so willing to look past what I'd done. He had always been a forgiving bot, but this was at a level I hadn't expected, at least not so quickly after finding out about my actions. It was surprising, but definitely not unwelcome.

However, Flareup brought up a point that made Bumblebee's willingness to forgive less noticeable. I had no idea what would cause my Protocol to activate, beyond me believing or knowing Arcee was in danger, or if she was… Offlined, which would cause my Protocol to never deactivate, like Flightstorm told me. Would it activate so easily, like Flareup asked? And if it could be activated so easily, how would Arcee and I be able to go into the field? But then again, if my Protocol turned on because of a simple injury to the femme I loved, then why hadn't it activated before MECH captured she and Jack?

"The Quriomus Protocol is a protective protocol. It only activates when the femme close to the mech is in mortal danger, offline, or the mech is led to believe either one," said Cyberfrost, speaking for the first time. "Arcee being in danger on the battlefield will not cause Shadowstreaker's Protocol to activate, not unless she is about to be offlined, or in danger of something else."

"How do you know?" Flareup asked.

"Because there were times she was in danger before my Protocol activated for the first time, but not mortally so," Flightstorm said, answering for his mate. "And with time and effort, Shadowstreaker can make his Protocol less likely to activate. Not much less, of course, but an improvement."

I was a little surprised to hear that, although that might have been because I didn't have enough experience with my Protocol to know everything about it. Having more control over whether my Protocol activates would be good to have, especially now that Arcee and I were together. I had already had a little influence on it, since I… Manually turned it on, but conservative control, even in the smallest amount, was always much harder than anything else. Something I was definitely going to have to work on.

"Does that answer your question, Flareup?" Optimus asked the orange and red femme.

"Somewhat. There are still things I am not sure about," replied Flareup. "But I'm willing to not let that uncertainty make me view Shadowstreaker differently."

Optimus nodded, while I gave Flareup and Bumblebee grateful looks, then he looked at the others again. "Who else is willing to look past Shadowstreaker's method of escaping the Hammer?"

"I am," both Jazz and Jetfire said, echoing each other's statements perfectly.

"With how I've acted in the past, I'm in no position to judge anyone else. So, same here," said Springer.

"Although I do not approve of his actions, my view of Shadowstreaker's normal character remains largely the same," Elita said. "I offer my support to him."

Ironhide grunted lightly, nodding at the rose red femme's words. "What she said, word for word."

"Too lazy to come up with something to say?" Chromia asked her mate, tone deadpanning, optics smiling.

"No, Elita just said _exactly_ what I was going to," the general weapons specialist answered in a manner similar to his sparkmate's.

Ignoring Ironhide and Chromia's statements, Silverbolt's wings moved up and down, then he looked at me, and then at Optimus. "I admittedly don't know Shadowstreaker well enough to answer that, so I will remain passive in this matter until I know his character well enough to decide."

I nodded toward Silverbolt in understanding, and he returned the nod. It wasn't a surprising answer, coming from him. He was the type of mech who wanted to know everything he could before making a decision, especially when they involved others. And for that, I was thankful. Hopefully, I could earn his support in the future.

Prowl, the last one besides Optimus to voice his opinion, examined me for a moment, then said, "On a personal level, I neither condone nor condemn Shadowstreaker. But on a professional level, I find his actions to be unacceptable conduct from an Autobot, and suggest he be appropriately disciplined for them."

Arcee's optics narrowed at Prowl, and Optimus looked at his SIC. "And what punishment would you suggest, Prowl?"

"An indefinite suspension from duty, and two jours in the brig, at minimum," the stoic mech replied.

Well, that was a little harsh. I did everything I could to obey the rules of the Autobots, at least when I wasn't under the influence of the Protocol. Being effectively benched and forbidden from going on missions with them would be taking away what I had essentially been doing for the last orbital-cycle, preventing me from being able to help bots that had become my friends. But then again, what I had done wasn't exactly minor, or excusable. And that required a serious punishment. Although, I think being put in the brig wasn't necessary. Being suspended was far more severe.

Apparently, Jazz agreed. "Ya really like usin' dat brig, Prowler," he said, his usual accent returning. "Ya don' have ta use it_ every_ _single_ time ya enforce somethin'."

Prowl looked at the saboteur, faceplate blank. "The brig has been the preferred method of enforcement since the Autobots were first formed. And Shadowstreaker's actions must be punished."

"An' suspendin' him isn' enough?" Jazz asked. "Dat's more of a punishment than spendin' a few mega-cycles in da brig. No need ta add onta dat."

"I second that," Ironhide said.

"As do I," agreed Elita.

Jetfire raised raised his servo a few inches off the table. "Same."

Optimus' optics shifted between the other three Autobot officers, then landed on Prowl. "Your suggestion is noted, and partially dismissed, Prowl. I find a temporary suspension from duty to be an adequate punishment for Shadowstreaker." The Prime looked at me. "Are you willing to accept this?"

"Of course," I answered immediately, accepting of their choice of punishment. It wasn't like I had any say in the matter, and even if I did, Optimus, as Prime, officially had the final word on all decisions, he just refused to make important choices without consulting his Autobots first, if possible. Not only that, he didn't even have to ask me if I wanted to willingly accept my suspension. Yet he did, simply to show me that he was not condemning me, even though I already knew he wasn't. He was a very rare type of leader.

"Then it is settled," Optimus said, still looking at me despite the fact his tone suggested he was addressing everyone else as well. "Due to his rash and irresponsible actions, Shadowstreaker is temporarily suspended from duty, and forbidden to leave this base until further notice. Do any of you disagree with this?"

No one spoke up, not even Arcee, who, judging from her subtle frame language, didn't want me to be suspended.

"Very well." The Prime stood from his chair, Star Saber rattling against his backplates, and said, "I find that this meeting to have served its purpose. And there are other matters to attend to. All except Shadowstreaker and Arcee are dismissed."

Everyone except for Arcee, Optimus, and I stood up and moved toward the door, but stopped when Flightstorm asked, "What about our son, Optimus Prime?" He and his mate were giving the Prime identical looks of curiosity.

"I am also wondering why my request to join your team was not discussed," added Override, standing behind the chair she had just occupied.

Optimus looked at Wildwing's creators. "We will find answers about your son's unusual habit after I have constructed a stealth drive for your vessel, along with anything else the Collected is in need of replacing." He then turned his attention to the femme Velocitronian. "Your status among the Autobots was not a topic for this meeting, but I give my word my officers and I will have an answer for you in the next few breems." He glanced at the Autobots who had come to a halt at Flightstorm's words. "Carry on."

Understanding that they had been dismissed again, my fellow Autobots walked toward the door, giving me looks ranging from sympathetic to encouraging as they went.

Jazz paused as he came to where Arcee and I were. "Just so ya know, Shadowster', da welcomin' party has been delayed on account of some 'Bots bein' mad at ya." His voice carried no distinguishable trace of humor, and his faceplate was set like steel. "An' it won' be rescheduled 'till they ain' mad. So, get on gettin' 'em ta calm down, 'cause a welcomin' party ain' complete without da twins' high-grade cocktails." With that, he walked out of the room, closing the war room door behind him since he was the last one out.

I blinked at the saboteur's statement, trying to figure out whether he was joking or not. At times it was difficult to tell with him, especially when he was talking about doing something or not. I had played poker with him only twice, and both times I was thrown off by his strategy, or lack thereof. Some hands he would tell you outright how great his hand was, others he'd go quiet as if he had good cards when he had junk, and he'd reverse the tactic as much as he liked. It was nearly impossible to get a handle on him.

After Jazz left, Optimus moved over to Arcee and I, took note of how we held each other's servo, then said to Arcee, "You disapprove of Shadowstreaker's punishment."

The femme I loved scoffed, an unfitting sound, coming from her. "Of course I disapprove. He's my… Courted," she said, sounding like she wasn't sure how the word sounded to her audio receptors. "And as his courted, I stand by him."

I gave Arcee's servo a little squeeze. Her support meant more than she could have known. The thought of her had been what had kept me going while I was being kept on the Hammer, and even now her mere presence helped me. But the fact she knew what I did and _still_ stood by me was more important. I didn't want to think about what it would be like without her friendship, her presence. "I appreciate that. A lot."

Arcee turned her helm to me. "I know." The tone she used for the short statement led me to believe she knew more about my thoughts then she was showing, but didn't want to say right at that moment.

"And so do I," Optimus said with a similar tone, though lacking in Arcee's subtle hint of wanting to talk more later. "I approve of your support of Shadowstreaker. It is what courting bots should do for the other. However, personal feelings cannot cloud judgement." He looked at me. "And all actions have consequences. And now, you both, in different ways, must deal with the ramifications of his mistake."

"I have been dealing with them for a while," I said, trying not to think about everyone that used to be on the Hammer, like I had been since I was picked up by the Apex Sentinel. But considering what I had done, and how my memory was photographic even before I was a Cybertronian, it hadn't been going well. All I could do was do my best to focus on the present. "But I knew when I arrived that what I did couldn't be ignored. I honestly am surprised so many of you stayed."

The Prime's optics softened slightly. "I am saddened to hear that many lives were lost on the prisoner ship. But there is nothing I can do for them. They are in the care of Primus, now. And you, and more than three-hundred others on the Apex Sentinel, are no longer captives of the Paraions. That is a happy thing."

"Would be better if the other thousand or so were with us," I pointed out bluntly.

Arcee gave me a disapproving look, but let Optimus speak since he stepped closer so he stood right next to Arcee and I's corner of the table, his fifty-one foot frame towering over both of us more than it normally would since we were sitting. "Having those lost on the Hammer among us _would_ make for a happier event, but do not look at the fallen and ignore the online, Shadowstreaker. Doing so will affect you, mentally, emotionally, and even physically. I have seen it happen to soldiers under my command before. Instead, remember the fallen and look to those around you for support. Particularly, those you love. They are the ones who will help you through anything, provided you allow them to." He placed a servo on my shoulder-joint, let it fall, and then left the war room, leaving Arcee and I alone.

The femme who accepted my Imprint watched Optimus leave, released my servo and crossed both of hers over her chestplates, then leaned on her foreservos and said, "He's right about that, you know."

"Yeah, he is," I said, placing my elbow-joints on the table and joining my digits together, still feeling the need to grab something, and no longer having Arcee's servo available. "But that doesn't change what I did, or make it easier to deal with."

"It wasn't supposed to," Arcee said. "I think Optimus was just letting you know where help could be found."

"And that you were going to be the best source of help, of comfort. Even more than before," I added factually. The words felt strange to say, since I had never said out loud how much her presence had meant to me, but they also felt natural.

The blue and pink femme's optics shined with understanding, one born from mutual feelings, and she uncrossed her servos and grabbed one of mine again, lowering it down to the table and joining her digits with my own. "He was right about that, too. So talk to me, Shadow'."

"About what?" I asked, almost chuckling without humor. There were so many things that we needed to talk about, and none of them could be addressed with only a few words. "I have a lot of options to choose from."

"Start with your Protocol," Arcee said, tone and look equally patient and calm.

"Alright," I said. "What do you want to know about it?"

She took a moment to reply, but finally asked, "What does it feel like?"

I wasn't immediately sure how to answer that. The Protocol was hard to describe to someone else. When it first activated, it felt like I was watching a dream, but I was much more aware when I embraced the Protocol on the Hammer, more in touch with what my frame was doing, and less confused. "That isn't as easy to answer as it'd seem. Maybe it varies from mech to mech, but the first time it activated, I wasn't in control, aware that anything I saw was actually happening. It was like being put into a windowless room with only a small video link to the outside, and no way of knowing whether the video was real or not."

"So you didn't know you had destroyed MECH and Airachnid until after it deactivated," Arcee observed. "Your Protocol controlled everything you did, and how you did it."

"Pretty much," I said. "I saw what was happening, but couldn't grasp it, couldn't stop it."

"But the second time was different," my spark said quietly. "It was personal because… You thought I was gone."

I set my faceplate in a neutral look, tightening my grip on Arcee's servo unconsciously. "Yeah," I said. "The second time around, I knew _exactly_ what was going on the entire time. I still had no actual control, but I watched everything with a lot more clarity, probably because I searched for it at that point, and it didn't activate like before."

"Do you think the reason you searched for it is because some tiny part of you wanted it all to be a dream, a nightmare?" Arcee asked.

That… Was admittedly possible. When Scalpel said Arcee was gone, and taunted me with that information, it was one of the worst moments of my life. Only seeing my human mother being killed rivaled it, and that had a different feeling to it. This… This was something else. Thinking Arcee was offline was like living without feeling. No nightmare compared to it. And that made it possible for some part of my CPU, some runtime or calculation, to seek comfort in detachment from reality, and make my Protocol activate.

Although, considering how I had also _wanted_ to offline every fragger I saw, that possibility was very, very small.

"I don't know, perhaps," I answered at last. "But it's not likely. The fact is, I activated my Protocol on my own terms, I didn't let it activate on its own."

"I know, you said that before," my spark said softly, as if she was thinking deeply as she was talking to me. "And that doesn't sound like something the mech I love would do."

"That's because I wasn't him. I was someone else at that point," I said, loosening my grip on Arcee servo as thoughts of each and every bot on the Hammer whose life I was responsible for ending flooded my CPU, along with the methods I had used to offline the Paraions in my path. There were so many…

Arcee tightened her servo, more than making up for my own grip lessening. "But you're him now."

Was I? "I'm not sure about that."

The femme let go of my servo and stood up at that. Then she stepped closer to me and kissed me. It wasn't like our previous two kisses. It was just a quick, soft peck, but it was still enough to send a wave of electricity through my frame. "_I_ am." Her voice was as firm as the armored walls around us, and was filled with just as much as conviction.

She sat back down in her chair, and once I had gathered my thoughts together after our brief kiss, I asked, "How can you be so sure?"

"Would you be carrying around this regret and guilt, if you were a changed mech?" Arcee asked in turn.

And just like that, she destroyed any argument I may have had. If I was changed drastically, I wouldn't care about what I did, or feel anything, have any emotion. I had been very close to being like that just after what was left of the Hammer appeared near the Apex Sentinel, and I wasn't like that now. I was the same mech as before… Mostly. "No, no I wouldn't. I wouldn't feel anything."

"Then you're not uncaring like you were on the Hammer," the blue and pink femme said. "You're the same mech I fell for."

Well, that opened up an entirely different topic of conversation, which I wasn't really sure how to approach, so I decided to to not think about every word I uttered. "I guess I am, even though, as a human-turned Cybertronian, I'm not exactly a… Typical choice, in a potential courted."

"A spark is a spark, doesn't matter if it was once organic. And it wasn't really a choice. Not one we made, anyway," Arcee noted.

"No, not really," I said. "Our sparks chose for us."

Both of us went quiet for several long moments, probably because neither of us knew how to approach the topic of actually discussing our feelings in detail, but Arcee spoke before it became long enough to be tense or awkward, "When did you first realize you had feelings for me?" She was using her normal tone, but I could tell she wanted to know the answer to her question a lot more than she was showing.

"June, last orbital-cycle," I answered immediately. "It was after I had been injured at the artifact mine where we found a piece of the Apex Armor. You came and visited me in the med-bay for a short time before you left. But, in that short visit, you… Smiled… And that was when you made my spark take flight for the first time, metaphorically speaking, of course. And you've been doing that every cycle since."

My spark gave me a flat look. "That's incredibly sappy. Did you come up with that line just now, or did you practice it in your helm for a while?"

"Both," I said, going along with the joke. "Had to make sure the beginning was right. It would have sounded bad if I hadn't."

"It sounded bad anyway," Arcee stated, optics the only indicator that she was teasing.

I smiled and squeezed her servo. "So, when did your feelings for me first develop?"

A thoughtful look entered her optics. "I'm not sure. They formed so subtly that I don't know when they first appeared. But, I know when I first misidentified them as a simple attraction."

"You find me attractive?" I asked teasingly.

Arcee gave me a flat look. "Of course. What kind of question is that? Physical attraction is usually the first step in what leads to real feelings forming, along with a relationship. Provided the bot you are attracted to is attracted back, and _isn't_ an aft."

I took that as her way of asking if I found her attractive. "I think you're incredibly beautiful, have since I became a Cybertronian. I just didn't say, especially after the, um… Washracks."

The blue and pink femme's optics hardened, and I heard her cooling fans activate, while mine did the same. "Let's not mention that."

"Agreed," I said quickly, then got back to the earlier line of questions after my cooling fans switched to a lower gear, "So, when was it that you first misidentified your feelings?"

"After you came to check in on me when Airachnid arrived on Earth, and brought up memories of Tailgate's offlining," Arcee responded, cooling fans already deactivated. "It was after you bid a hasty retreat that I realized I viewed you as something more than a friend."

"And when you first realized it was love?" I asked easily, feeling more and more at ease as I talked with Arcee. It was nice to hear how she first realized she had feelings for me, and the fact talking to her was, very effectively, distracting me from my thoughts was good, too.

Arcee raised an optic ridge. "I was going to ask you that next."

"Well, I asked first," I said in a joking manner. "So, I win."

My spark narrowed her optics at me, though clearly not in anger. "It was after you gave me my creation day present. Something about how you acted, along with the gift itself, touched me, made me realize my feelings weren't simple like they had been with Tailgate or Cliffjumper. They were deeper, something I hadn't dealt with before."

"Why didn't you act on your feelings at that point, then?" I inquired curiously, wanting to know what event, action, or thought it had taken her to realize she wasn't just attracted to me. I knew when I realized it, but not when she did.

"Uh-ah," Arcee said, shaking her helm. "I answered _my_ side of the question, now _you_ answer yours. When did you figure out you loved me?"

"After I beat Springer's aft," I replied. "I had just onlined from one of my visits with the Primes, then Optimus walked in. We talked with a bit, before Optimus made some observations about how I acted around you. It was then I realized what I felt was love. And Optimus came to the same conclusion without knowing about my feelings before we spoke. Don't you hate when he figures out what you're thinking almost before_ you_ know?"

The femme who accepted my Imprint smiled and laughed shortly. "It can be annoying when he does that, but that's just how he's always been, at least in the time I've known him," she said, and then followed up with a question, "Going by our pattern so far, I should ask why didn't you act on your feelings. So why didn't you?"

I shrugged. "Fear of rejection, uncertainty, embarrassment. It was a number of things," I said. "Now it's my turn to ask again, what was it for you?"

"For me, it was nearly the exact same, though mostly fear, and not the kind you had. My fear was that if I told you how I felt, you'd end up like Tailgate and Cliffjumper," Arcee said, then chuckled hollowly. "Turns out that fear wasn't that far off."

"Except for the fact you didn't tell me how you felt, and I was captured, not offlined," I said firmly, leaning forward to look her in the optics seriously. This was the first time since I first contacted base that she had sounded like an empty femme, and I wasn't going to let her do that. "Your feelings had nothing to do with what happened to me."

The blue and pink femme closed her optics for a moment, then opened them again and let out a breath slowly. "I know, but thoughts and emotions are not always logical. You know this just as well as I do," she said, azure optics staring into my royal cobalt ones. "Your fears were unfounded, and if you had taken a step back, you'd have realized it. We both would have. But our fears controlled our actions, caged our feelings." Her faceplate became thoughtful, and she asked, "Do you think our fears were transferred to each other through our… Imprints?"

I looked down at our joined servos and intertwined digits, unable to meet her optics at the mention of Imprinting. It was funny, talking about Imprinting hadn't been difficult before now, but I also hadn't gone into full detail about it during my debriefing. And now that I had to, discussing it with the femme I Imprinted on, who, in turn, accepted and then Imprinted back, was made awkward due to how serious the phenomenon was, and what it meant. "Perhaps. Both of our sparks have been effected by the Imprint, and the fact we are separated from each other. We might have been given a few of each other's fears when we Imprinted."

"I assume what you mean when you say our sparks have been effected by our separation, it's that Imprinting is a spark choosing its second half, and the pulling I've been feeling in my own spark means it's calling for yours," Arcee said, voice blank.

Well, she figured that out pretty quickly. "Pretty much. I've been having the same pulling since December, and after my Protocol activated for the first time, Optimus explained it was my spark reaching for yours, wanting to be, ah... Joined together."

"Huh," the blue and pink femme said, still using a blank tone and now putting a neutral look on her faceplate, though I could tell she wasn't sure how to react to her suspicions being confirmed. "It seems like Chromia was right."

"About what?" I asked, silently grateful we weren't discussing the implications of Imprinting at this exact moment. Every micro-klick I had to prepare myself for a conversation about that was a good thing.

"About her view of sparks, and their habit of making decisions on their own," Arcee replied, glancing down at the table, staring at nothing. "She's always said she believes our sparks know what our decisions are going to be well in advance of when we make them, as well as know what our wants and needs are going to be far before we do. That belief is what drives her in many aspects, and she makes her choices based on the feelings she gets from her spark, not her thoughts." She laughed suddenly, angelic smile breaking an uncertain mood that had fallen on both of us. "And the best example of this process would be her courting with Ironhide."

I raised an optic ridge. What did that have to do with her decision-making process? "How is that the best example you know of?"

She laughed again, though not as long as before. "Let me put it this way. After Ironhide finally told her how he felt, they courted for a total of four breems before she sent him, stumbling over his words and nervous as pit, to Elita and I for our approval of them becoming mates."

I blinked slowly. Four breems. She waited _four breems_ before sending Ironhide for her sisters' approval? I had heard of fast courtships, but that is just_ ridiculous_. "And he _agreed_ to go to you two so quickly?"

My spark gave me a flat look. "Chromia can be_ very_ persuasive when she wants to be. And Ironhide had been helm over heels for her for a while. Mech stood no chance against her."

"You're making it sound like Chromia manipulated him into doing something he had no desire to," I observed.

"Then I'm not explaining it correctly," Arcee said. "Ironhide had every intention of wanting to be her sparkmate in the future, but he also wanted to make sure she didn't feel pressured to even give him a kiss. He wasn't even going to think about being mated until she knew everything about him. But, Chromia, obviously, didn't have the same approach to courting. She went by what her spark told her, and her spark said he was the one. Then she acted accordingly by convincing Ironhide to go to us for approval. And when we approved, Elita and I gained a brother, and Chromia gained her second half."

"Her spark definitely led her to make the correct choice," I said. Anyone who met them knew immediately they couldn't be more perfect for each other. But that was besides the point of this conversation, and I knew we were both avoiding the proverbial Elephant in the room, so I asked, "What parts of Chromia's decision are you comparing to our situation? To our Pulling, our sparks' desire to… Be one?"

Arcee's faceplate became impassive at my question. "If you're expecting us to go at the rate of Chromia and Ironhide, you are_ severely_ mistaken."

My cooling fans reactivated. This is already going badly. "No, no, no, of course not. I ju- Well, you kn- We- The two of us…" I trailed off when I saw the smallest trace of a smile appearing on her faceplate, accompanied by the sound of cooling fans besides my own, activated at such a low speed I didn't hear them at first. "You were joking, weren't you?"

"Mostly," my spark confirmed, dropping the blank look and readopting her normal one. "But, your reaction says a lot about your opinion on our Imprints. You don't want to rush things. You want to take this slowly, take very gradual steps toward what our sparks have already decided."

"Exactly right," I said, silently applauding her observational skills. She did miss the fact that it was difficult to_ not_ want to go at the pace our sparks apparently want to go, because of how long I had been away and how much she meant to me, but no one could figure out what someone else was thinking with perfect accuracy every single time. "And judging by your own reactions, you don't want to move at a fast pace, either."

"No, I don't," Arcee said. "I have very rarely taken the time to truly enjoy many of the things I've done in my life, but this is something I've never dealt with, and it's something I want to do right." She squeezed my servo tightly, and smiled at me. "And my spark couldn't have chosen a better mech for me."

I gave her a dry look. "_Now_ who's being incredibly sappy?"

"Oh, shut up, Shadow'," she answered.

I did, and we both sat there for a long time, simply enjoying each other's company.

* * *

><p>It was more than a breem later before I left the war room, and Arcee and I parted ways for the time being. I would have been fine just sitting with her for longer, but she pointed out the fact there were a lot of bots, and three humans, who I needed to talk to, since they left the debriefing early. So now I was searching for those who walked out of the war room.<p>

There probably weren't a lot of pleasant conversations ahead of me, but I was riding the pleasant thoughts of my conversation with Arcee, the feeling of just sitting next to her.

… Wow, Lennox was right, I _am_ gone. And I'm okay with that.

After I left the war room, I made straight for the med-bay. Ratchet and Moonracer were likely there, and there was also a possibility Smokescreen was there, as well. It would be best to try speaking to as many of those we left as I could at one time. Singling each of them out would take me too long, and I couldn't ignore any of them.

I reached the med-bay after a short walk from the war room, and the door automatically opened for me.

The med-bay was unchanged from when I had last seen it. It was all the same medical berths, tools, computers, detailed scanning equipment, nanite-enhancing gel containers, stacked data pads, and repaired and broken parts as before. The one and only difference I could see was that the Delphic was no longer in the room. Ratchet probably decided it was finally time to move the crystal to a storage hanger, or maybe even the quarters he and Moonracer shared. It was about time he did that. He had learned nothing else from it since I onlined from stasis.

I looked at the workstation, and quickly spotted Ratchet and Moonracer examining data on one of the screens. But Smokscreen was nowhere in sight. Guess he was going to have to wait.

With a light sigh, I stepped fully into the med-bay and moved to stand next to Ratchet, then stopped when I knew I was in his peripheral vision.

He made no indication he saw me.

I gave him another micro-klick to acknowledge my presence, but he didn't, he just kept examining the screen in front of him. Then I decided to myself known. "Hello, Ratchet."

I didn't see the wrench that hit me on the side of the helm with, but I felt it. The white and red medic had put enough force behind the blow to make me stumble back a step while my audio receptors rang in my helm.

Ow.

Ratchet turned to look at me then, faceplate set in anger. "How could you have_ possibly_ thought seeking out the protocol you_ knew_ would make you offline_ anything_ that stood against you was a _good_ idea?!" He yelled. "Any number of things could have gone wrong when you activated it! And that's not including everything that _did!_ You were going up against hundreds of highly-trained and well-equipped hostile Cybertronians by_ yourself_, with _no_ weapons! They could have easily offlined you! And even though they didn't, you nearly did the job for them! You used up so much energon it's a miracle you weren't already offline when the neutrals found you! You had one, _maybe_ two cycles of life left when you were found! That's _it!_ And you had more of a chance than most of the Hammer! Those bots didn't even _get_ a chance! Were you thinking about those mechs and femmes when you searched for your Protocol?! Did you think about what would happen to _them_ when you went on a rampage?! Did you even _consider_ the possibility your interrogator was trying to get inside your helm?!"

I kept my faceplate neutral, but inside I felt the punch behind Ratchet's words, of how right each of them were. "No. I wasn't thinking about anything at that point. Not the other prisoners, not my energon levels, not the tactic of interrogation, nothing."

The white and red medic huffed loudly, and then hit me again with his wrench, barely lessening how much strength he put in his servo.

Again, ow.

"You were short-sighted, Shadowstreaker!" Ratchet went on after hitting me. "Short-sighted, foolish, and stupid! And now hundreds paid the price! How do you think your creators feel, seeing you, their own son, act like you did?!"

Well, now he's hitting me in a different way. Truth was, Solus and Megatronus are probably shocked by my behavior, by how I didn't even think of anyone else trapped in the same hell that was the Hammer. I was only focused on directing my rage on Scalpel and every other Paraion I saw. They… They probably are ashamed of what I did, of my actions, of_ me_, right now…

"That's enough, Ratchet," Moonracer said, mildly chiding her sparkmate. "You made your point to Shadowstreaker. Don't involve bots that have no place in this conversation."

Ratchet looked at his mate, and both of their optics dimmed slightly as if they were having a conversation, and then he took several breaths and looked at me again with less anger prevalent on his faceplate. "I apologize for my words, Shadowstreaker," he said, though his gruff manner made it difficult to tell if his statement was genuine or not.

I treated it like it was. "Don't be sorry. I deserved them," I said, blocking the new thoughts Ratchet's statement created.

The white and red medic glanced at his sparkmate again, and she looked back meaningfully, as if something unsaid had been proven. He then scoffed and returned to working at the computer. "Maybe you do, but there were other ways I could have said them."

"It worked, got your point across," I said. "No point in fine-tuning it."

"But there is a difference between making a point, and _attacking_ a fellow Autobot," said Moonracer, giving her mate a look, which caused Ratchet to grumble something unintelligible.

I shrugged. "It's to be expected, after what I did."

"But it's also not what should happen," the green and white femme said, still looking at Ratchet "We are Autobots, we stand by one another. Especially when one of us makes a mistake we can't fix."

"It's in the nature of all beings to judge each other, some more than others," Ratchet said, finally giving into something in Moonracer's gaze. "And we, as Autobots, are taught to not judge one another for our actions, and to instead show other Autobots where they went wrong. Which is why I, again, apologize for some of my words."

"I already said don't be sorry. I deserved to be shouted at. Don't worry about it." I shrugged again and examined a medical tool I hadn't seen before. It had eight surgical blades, six lights, three syringes, and an energon reader, all of which were combined into a single, freakishly strange-looking object on the end of a handle.

It was probably best _not_ to ask not ask what exactly this was for.

For the third time since I stepped into the med-bay, a wrench hit me in the side of the helm, having been thrown at the floor at in just the right way where it would bounce upward at a high angle.

Now Ratchet was just unnecessarily showing off his wrench-throwing skills.

"Just accept my apology, damn it!" The wrench-throwing medic demanded. "I will not offer an apology if it isn't _accepted!_ I was wrong to say some of the things I said! Accept it!"

"Um, apology… Accepted?" I asked, blinking at Ratchet's desire for me to accept his apology. He really wanted me to accept.

I caught a movement from Moonracer, and I looked at her. She was giving Ratchet a little approving smile, and a satisfied look was in her optics. Ah. So _she_ was behind her sparkmate's continued attempts at apologizing.

Ratchet huffed at my acceptance, likely frustrated it had taken so long for me to accept while his mate was pressuring him to continue apologizing for something that hadn't bothered me… Much. "Good," he said as he went back to his work. "Then we can go back to what's important."

"Like?" I prompted. I hadn't been searching for he and Moonracer for any other reason than to know where they stood with me. And I still wasn't totally sure what Ratchet's opinion on my actions was beyond anger at how little I had been thinking at the time.

"Like this second Delphic you mentioned seeing during your debriefing. I want to know more about it," the white and red medic said, not looking away from the data on the screen, which, I realized, were a graph displaying the results of every scan he had taken of the Delphic.

Uh-oh. Not_ this_ again.

I glanced at Moonracer for confirmation on whether Ratchet was returning to his obsession with the ancient crystal. Her only answer was to roll her optics, which caused her mate to give her a look, likely feeling how she felt about his obsession, and how incredulous she was toward it.

So, he _was_ becoming obsessed again. Of course, his obsession led to some interesting information about the Delphic, but that information was only revealed after jours of study. And I don't think there's anything else he can discover from the crystal until a way to access the core, and the subatomic supercomputer it contained.

Although, we would have never known about that supercomputer if Ratchet hadn't been obsessed with studying the Delphic, so maybe he would find something else we never would have found otherwise.

"You're restarting your testing of the Delphic?" I asked.

"Somewhat," Ratchet answered. "But as I said, I am more interested in the other Delphic you described, and how it may relate to the one we have."

"I'm not sure what help I can be," I said. "I only saw the second Delphic from outside the lab it was contained in."

"A little information is better than none," said Ratchet.

I brought up the memories of the short moment I had to observe the second Delphic. "Larger and brighter than the one we have, had a faint red hue to its light, jagged edges, and there was energy crackling around it. The scientists examining it were keeping their distance, because of that."

"That's all you know?" Asked the white and red medic, voice showing his mild disappointment at the lack of information besides a physical description.

"Like I said, I only saw it from outside the lab it was in," I replied.

Ratchet grumbled something I couldn't hear, then said, "I was hoping for _something_ to work with, but at least you're able to give a basic description."

"Sorry I can't give anything else useful," I said. "I was led away after only a few micro-klicks."

"Believe me, he has enough to go on," said Moonracer, giving her sparkmate a displeased look, one I had seen her give him many times during his initial study of the Delphic.

Ratchet, for his part, seemed a little wary of the look his mate was giving him.

Well, seems like they have to talk about studying the Delphic. Or at least they want to. "I know when I'm getting in the way. I'll come back later." I turned and walked toward the door.

Moonracer's statement stopped me before I got there, "Don't leave yet, Shadowstreaker. We need to set a time for your examination, as well as your psychiatric workup."

I looked back at the green and white femme in confusion. What she said about examining me made sense, considering we had no idea if the Paraions implanted anything inside me while I was their captive, but a psychiatric workup was a new one. "What do you mean?"

"You went through a number of potentially traumatic events while you were captured," replied Moonracer. "Your actions show how close to the brink you were."

Hope being crushed. Pain, longing for lost second half. Despair, anguish.

Mocking tone from an insane mech. Fire. Rage. Soldiers firing. Lives ended. Necks snapped. Helms caved in or ripped off. Soldiers horrified.

Fire fades. Rage turns to nothing. Alone.

I shook my helm to rid myself of the mixture of memories and basic emotions. "I'm fine."

"No you aren't," Ratchet said. "If you were, you wouldn't be affected by a simple statement."

So he knew I was just lost in my memories for a moment. "Maybe. But do you honestly want to help me?"

The white and red medic huffed, as if insulted. "Just because I don't approve of anything you did on the Hammer, doesn't mean I want you to suffer for your actions," he said. "In war, everyone does something questionable at some point. It's inevitable. But occasionally, circumstances affect a bot and their actions, and it is the job of the medic to make sure those bots recover. But a bot can't be helped until they allow themselves to examined."

Well, seems like I now know where he stands in regards to my actions. He and Moonracer want to help me. But what could be done to help me? Guilt doesn't go away. "I'll get back to you on that." I turned and left the med-bay before the two medics could protest.

I let the door close behind me after I left the room, then walked toward the ops center without considering where to go next.

It was nice, knowing Ratchet and Moonracer wanted to know how I was holding up mentally, but it was also… Difficult. It was something I had never done, and I had no idea how to approach the topic, not really, anyway. Arcee was able to help me just by being present in the room with me, but that wasn't a permanent fix, just a temporary one, something good to focus on.

Was there anything that could help me more than that?

I didn't know, and I wasn't sure if Ratchet and Moonracer could find one.

I reached the ops center after a short walk that seemed even shorter with all my thoughts ringing in my helm.

Prowl was operating the space bridge, with Agent Fowler standing on the catwalk next to him, where he had been operating the space bridge while my debriefing was taking place.

Optimus, Flightstorm, and Cyberfrost were near the middle of the ops center, standing around Wildwing as he sat on the hovering energon pallet that had been holding the Gold Optimus had made, which apparently had been completely transported by the Collected's crew members. I could hear Optimus speaking to Wildwing, and the sparkling replying, but the exact words were spoken too softly to be heard from a distance.

Jack, Miko, and Raf were at the Xbox area. Jack was playing State of Decay by himself with a look of cold anger written on his face, while Miko leaned on his shoulder and watched a similar look on her own face, though not as intense. Raf was just sitting on the couch, neither watching the game nor looking angry.

I decided they would be the next group I spoke with about what happened on the Hammer, and stepped toward them.

As soon as I had taken my first step, I saw a piece of paper on the floor near Wildwing, and came to a total stop as I examined it.

It was a picture, one I hadn't seen before. It was showing the black faceplate of a bot with two red, visor-like optics that were so close together they almost appeared to be one, with the background of a dark room behind him.

Now, why do I suddenly feel like that is _really_ important?

* * *

><p><strong>(Human calendar) July 16, 2013 3:44 A.M<strong>

**(Cybertronian date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since the end of the Golden Age)**

**Decepticon base, three-hundred and fifty miles northwest of Madagascar**

Shockwave scrolled through the data being displayed on the computer in his personal laboratory, his single optic processing all information at a rapid rate.

It had been three jours, two mega-cycles, and four solar-cycles since he last stepped into this room, that was, however, not his fault.

First, Megatron had him to use the Dark Matter to tow an asteroid containing a ship of the Ancients out of the solar system and into the closest neighboring one, then he was ordered to create a vast defense network to guard the asteroid's location. Those tasks had taken him twelve solar-cycles to complete.

Second, he was ordered to gain access to the vessel inside the asteroid, while contending with hundreds, if not thousands, of Cybertronians who mentally had been reduced to little more than animals, but physically were a match for any Insecticon, and even more difficult to offline. After dealing with not only these Cybertronians, but also an incredibly advanced AI who sabotaged his every effort, for two jours, he failed to accomplish his instructed task. Even now the ship remained impregnable, its AI taunting him with the prospect of unimaginable discoveries and advances, only to lock them away.

Third, Megatron had taken Starscream and Soundwave with him to conduct a surprise inspection of Project:Overlord, leaving Shockwave in charge of all Decepticon operations in both the Sol and Alpha Centauri systems. The added duties assigned to him prevented an opportunity to visit his laboratory for the next twenty-three solar-cycles.

Lastly, an underground base containing information backups was attacked, and a large portion of one of their databases was hacked. He had been spending the last thirteen solar-cycles reviewing the data that had been copied, determining what projects or locations were compromised. One of them had been his formula for creating Cyberium, meaning it was only a matter of time before the Autobots found a weakness in the armor's construction.

But that metal was also never going to give the Decepticons a permanent advantage over the Autobots. Like many technologies that had come from their centi-vorns-long conflict, it was bound to become meaningless eventually. So its loss was of little consequence.

It was only two breems ago that he finally managed to complete the added duties he was burdened with, review the last of the compromised data, and execute the Decepticons who survived the attack on the base for their incompetence. It was Megatron's policy that failure of such magnitude could not be tolerated. And it was not.

Shockwave flipped to the next page of information, which contained the results data of the minor experiments he had entrusted the automated systems of his laboratory to conduct, while taking care of the ones that required energon every cycle. The psychological impact on a seeker when their wings were removed, the effect of Earth's Sea Salt when introduced into the veins of a Cybertronian, the exact amount of pressure required to break a human skeleton, whether a Cybertronian's thought processes could be controlled through an electromagnetic signal, and how a drone's intelligence was affected when given a more powerful CPU with free will.

The calculating scientist shut down the terminal and walked toward the far wall of his laboratory. The minor experiments had not required his presence, and the potentially beneficial experiments had failed and ended up with the subjects offlining, or having to be offlined when it expressed displeasure.

But they did not matter. There were other experiments he had planned, and their success was far more likely.

A sensor deployed from the wall Shockwave was walking toward. The device scanned him, then sent a command to an unseen computer, and a hidden door opened in front of the scientist just before he would have made contact with the wall, and then it closed behind him.

He was now in the secret area of his laboratory.

While much of his work was conducted in the open, all of his personal projects were kept hidden inside this second of his lab, away from the prying optics of Megatron and Soundwave. And he had many personal projects.

He moved past the holding tanks of the secret section of his lab, where more than sixty of the Ferals, the Cybertronians he had fought on the asteroid, were being held in captivity. His testing had found they couldn't be controlled effectively, at least not yet. But, if required, they would be very effective, when dropped on top of enemies.

Shockwave encountered another door, this one not hidden due to the fact it was already in a hidden area. He typed a password into a keypad next to it, and it opened, revealing a large, circular device not unlike a ground bridge or small space bridge.

It was a Universal Bridge, a machine he had created that unlocked the legendary power of Vector Prime, to a degree, and allowed for travel to other realities. But unfortunately, it was not yet ready for use.

In his extensive study of alternate realities and universes, he discovered the Multiverse was somewhat like a vast, unexplored ocean, in which each drop of water led to a quadrillion different worlds. These 'Drops' could be viewed with relative ease, but actually _entering_ them was infinitely more difficult, and left behind an… Impression, when on the rare occasions that they were seen. These Impressions left waves in their wake that were visible throughout the Multiverse, and remained for an uncountable number of centi-vorns.

And from what his calculations and observations told him, there had been three Impressions in the Multiverse in the last nine-thousand centi-vorns, two of which had occurred within the last five orbital-cycles. While this was not unusual for the Multiverse, what was abnormal was that each Impression either went directly to the reality he was currently in, or led to a place that could not be tracked, and then into this reality. This suggested someone, somewhere, had the ability to travel between realities at will.

Shockwave found this to be troubling. It implied that his plan of using the Universal Bridge to travel to other realities, gather resources and technology from them, and return was in use by someone else. In the future, he may have a rival on his servos.

The calculating scientist continued through several other doors and sections of his laboratory, until he reached yet another door, the most heavily armored section of his secret lab. He placed his one good servo on a panel next to the door, and allowed another device to scan his one optic.

"715-TS0-4221-VAZ," he said, saying the verbal password for the door into a mic.

A loud, metallic grating noise sounded throughout the room as a four meter-thick lock slid to the side, while on the other end of the fifteen meter-thick door, a cold-plasma barrier deactivated in preparation for Shockwave's entry.

The calculating scientist stepped down the short hallway left behind by the thick door, into a large, dark room, which he had made solely for its seven occupants.

On the left wall, there was a holding cage for a large, dull green and earth-colored mech, while on the opposite side, a blue, red, and grey mech two-third the size of the first was held in an identical cage.

Directly in front of Shockwave, there were five floating platforms suspended over a pit of acid strong enough to eat away Cyberium less than a micro-klick. The platforms were occupied by five mechs, all appearing to have no vehicle alt modes. Each of them were held in place by extra cold-plasma barriers and metal restraints, and were far larger than what was normal for Cybertronians, but none more so than the one in the center, who was helm, shoulder-joints, and chestplates above the other four.

The mech on the center platform glared up at Shockwave as he entered, his two red, visor-like optics smoldering with hatred.

The calculating scientist ignored the look. "It has been a long time, since last I walked inside this room. Have you missed my presence?"

None of the captive bots replied.

"As friendly as always," said Shockwave, raising his cannon-servo and hovering the digits of his good servo over a device just above his cannon. "You know better than to do that." He pressed the button.

Instantly, countless volts of electricity were directed into the edges of the holding cages and the restraints, causing the captive mechs to wreath around in agony.

But not the mech on the center platform.

He took the electric punishment, glared down at Shockwave with even more anger and hatred, even fought against his restraints in a show of defiance, his black helm and red optics burning in the dim light.

After nearly a klick, Shockwave ended the onslaught of suffering, and all except the one in the center collapsed in relief, breathing heavily to cool their systems.

"I have come to tell you I finally have time for my planned operations," said the scientist. "There's no preparations to make, no more experiments that need to be conducted, or events that will delay the procedures. By this time next cycle, you will all be as I want you to be. Enjoy what moments of freedom you have left." He turned, and walked out of the room, silently enjoying how he tormented his favorite captives.

He would miss them, when they were experiments.

Shockwave reached the other side of the door, went through the same process he did to open it, and the operation reversed. And the door slammed shut with a resounding boom.

After the scientist left, the blue, red, and grey mech slowly looked up at the other mechs, the other Autobots, both to see how they were recovering from Shockwave's punishment, and to see if they fully understood the situation.

The dull green and earth-colored mech did, and so did four of the ones on the platforms. Their time to wait for rescue had run out. They had to escape on their own.

And they had to do it _now._

Meanwhile, the largest of the seven mechs glared at the door, as if his optics would burn a hole through it and vaporize the scientist who was walking away on the other side.

He had technically been Shockwave's captive for as long as the other four mechs on the platforms with him, and far, far longer than the two in the cages, but he was the only one out of the entire group who was strong enough to withstand whatever the scientist threw at him, the only one who had never been forced into stasis by his punishments, and the only one powerful enough to be a legitimate threat if he was to escape.

That was why Shockwave gave him the largest doses of electricity, contained him with the toughest restraints, and never personally stood against him, neither before nor after he had taken off the scientist's left servo.

Shockwave feared him.

And this fact was never more obvious than the last time he had broken free of the scientist's captivity, and he had sent his Insecticon soldiers to face him, instead of trying to fight the mech himself.

The titan of a mech could still hear the Insecticons speaking during that time, hear them taunting him, using his _name_ as a joke.

_"Grimlock… Grimlock… Grimlock-lock-lock-lock-lock..."_

* * *

><p><strong>Aaaaaannnddd... Break over. Hope you all enjoyed it.<strong>

**Now, I am going to ACTUALLY put effort into my novel this time, not just try working on it for a week or two and then going back to this. And, after seeing The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug *Freaking incredible movie, in my opinion* I have decided to revive my Lord of the Rings story. I will be working on that as well, alongside my novel. Nothing to the extent as Fate Calls, but I will be rewriting the prologue to fit with how my writing is now, and as well as making a buffer so I don't have to flip over to it a lot. The chapters will be shorter, and overall I do not think it will end up being on the same scale as Fate Calls. But then again, I also originally thought this story would be 100k words at the max... How'd that work out?**

**So yeah. Novel, and rewriting the prologue of Last of the Wryms is what I will doing next. Fate Calls is not in any way, shape, or form abandoned, but it will take me some time for the next update.**

**Oh, and since the next update will take a little while, I will say that regarding the behavior of everyone who left the war room, I have a plan, and I will not ruin anyone. That is all.**

**This chapter's credit song is "TobyMac - Ignition" I have been wanting to use this song as a credit song for... How long? A long time. Early last year, I believe. Anyway, up until now, I had not written an ending to a chapter that fit with the pace of this song, or the lyrics. I THINK I might have done it at last, since it fits to my ears. But I will allow you, my readers, to decide.**

**Please, feel free to leave a review with your thoughts, or send me a PM if you have a question. I love all feedback, and it makes my day when I see I have more. So, even though I've said it before. Thank you. :)**

**See you soon.**


	38. Escape: Part 1

**More than two months. I'm getting worse at updating. Great.**

**I cannot apologize enough for the ridiculously long wait, my readers. I honestly don't understand what's been going on with me these last two updates. They are not only a heck of a lot shorter than "Journeys," by far my longest chapter, but they are also taking me more than twice as long to write. It's like my muse decided it was time for a four-month vacation, and has left me a crappy replacement.**

**Not only that, but this entire chapter? This WHOLE thing? Not even remotely close to what I wanted to get done in this update. You'll see what I mean very quickly, I think. Going back in this note, I apologize again.**

**Can you tell I'm upset with my writing speed right now?**

***Sigh* Okay. Breath in. Breath out. Goosfraba.**

**...**

**Okay, I'm back. Sorry venting a little bit.**

***Watches Age of Extinction's first full-length trailer* Hmm. Looks like it has a very different atmosphere than the previous movies. The fleet, ships, and ancient-looking weapons you see hints of at the end intrigue me, as well as Lockdown, AKA gunface. It also could have an interesting plot *shocker!* with humans hunting down all Cybertronians, although I will not let myself hold out a huge amount of hope for it. Revenge of the Fallen's first trailer made me think the movie was going to be ten times better than it actually was.**

**But, Revenge of the Fallen also didn't have Grimlock. Or Optimus Prime RIDING Grimlock. Two points for Age of Extinction.**

**I send a thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter, as well as those who favorited and or followed this story since my last update. I have been having a lot of trouble with my writing in the last four months, as seen by how little I've updated, and the fact I STILL haven't finished rewriting the prologue of my Lord of the Rings story. So, thank you all for showing your support and leaving feedback. It blows me away when I step back and see how far this story has come thanks to your support *And a really great beta* :)**

**Guest (Known as SunnySides) - I was actually planning on using that song before you mentioned it, but I find it amusing you suggested it a while back. Haha.**

**dragonbookaddict - I will never think of myself as a gifted writer. Just how I am. But gifted with an overactive imagination? Absolutely. I always have had a story of some sort going on in my head, no matter how hard I try not to. In fact, I regularly design, name, and and personalize characters set in any movie, show, or game I see or play. Been a habit of mine since I was about six.**

***Looks at chapter and winces* I will not lie, I am not happy with this one. I will let you be a judge of it, but yeah. Not happy.**

**hockeynut178 - Thanks for crawling through so much crap to get to this point. Lol. But seriously, it makes me happy to know there are a surprising number of people who read this story in a pretty short length of time.**

***Reads near the end of your review* *Voices morphs into Bane's from The Dark Night Rises* You think this tale is coming to an end?**

**...**

**Okay, that sounded better in my head.**

**Fate Calls is not anywhere close to its ending. Two chapters back is what I consider the end of the FIRST ARCH of this story. I have way too many unsolved subplots, main story elements, character side stories, and unseen plots and characters to be coming to the end. You are likely talking about how I could have probably ended this story a couple chapters back and started a sequel to it, but I am not planning on ending this story anytime soon. There's too much to write! Haha.**

**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

****Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.****

* * *

><p>(<strong>Human calendar) July 16, 2013 3:49 A.M<strong>

**(Cybertronian date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since the end of the Golden Age)**

**Decepticon base, three-hundred and fifty miles northeast of Madagascar**

The blue, red, and grey mech looked meaningfully at the dull green and earth-colored mech across from him. "Our time is up. Pick up the pace, Broadside," he ordered. His voice was deep, rough, and mostly stoic and calm, as if he had been in this situation a thousand times before, and knew exactly how to get out of it flawlessly.

The mech known as Broadside understood the meaning of the other mech's order, and after shaking off the last effects of Shockwave's punishment, he started to hit the side of his cage.

While the cage's design was structurally sound, and was made from a high-quality Xieron-Cyberium alloy, the rivets holding it together were made from a composite called Metaionic. It was easy and simple to create, was very lightweight, far harder than any naturally occurring element outside of Cybertron and its solar system, and kept most of its strength even when exposed to temperature extremes and corrosive acid. This combination of properties led to it being used in the construction of nearly as many Cybertronian technologies as Primax, ranging from high-tech starships, to basic containers. And it served its intended purpose almost every time.

Almost.

Metaionic had one weakness. When repeatedly struck by another object, even one softer than it was, it tended to form molecule-sized fractures. These fractures, while meaningless at first, would grow with every impact, until they were clearly visible, and they effected the structural strength of the object made with Metaionic. This weakness was overlooked for the most part, since the composite performed reliably right up until it ruptured entirely, could be easily replaced long before that point, and the fault was not well-known. As long as parts made with Metaionic were maintained properly, there would be no possibility of the material failing.

However, with a mech such as the blue, red, and grey one, whose carrier was in the science caste and knew of Metaionic's shortcoming, being contained inside a cage constructed with parts made from Metaionic, the possibility of the material failing went from impossible, to highly likely.

It was this knowledge of Metaionic that led to the mech to instruct Broadside to hit the side of his cage whenever he was able to do so, in case rescue didn't arrive, which was now fully clear it would not, at least not in time. The blue, red, and grey mech would have done it himself, but he knew he lacked neither the physical strength, nor thick enough armor withstand the force required to effect the integrity of the rivets of his cage. This fact was made especially true with how the sides of their prisons were designed to charge with electricity, similar to what Shockwave used as punishments, whenever they touched them. Broadside was built to shrug off that kind of physical effort and punishment, despite the presence of an electromagnetic field mildly distorting his systems, which, along with a few different treatments, was an addition Shockwave had placed to keep Broadside from using his many cannons on his little prison. As long as he was given chances to rest, the dull green and earth-colored mech could recover.

He, however, would not. Even now he still was feeling the effects of Shockwave's latest punishment, the first one he had given in jours, luckily. If the blue, red, and grey mech attempted what he had asked of Broadside, he would end up offlining himself. But that did not mean he didn't hate the order he had given, despite the fact it was their only option for escape. He never wanted to place his Wreckers in unnecessary danger.

Broadside continued slamming his bulky shoulder-joints against the cage, widening the fractures in the rivets with each hit, ignoring the painful shock he received for his progress. His attempts to escape his prison quickly resulted in his armor splitting from repeated contact with the power pulsing through his cage, but he merely switched to his other shoulder-joint and kept at it, letting his auto-repair systems take care of his damaged armor without losing time spent on weakening the Metaionic rivets.

Only a klick after Broadside began hitting the side of his cage, one of the rivets failed and snapped in two, and its broken pieces fell to the floor with a clang.

All optics fell on the bits of rivet, even Grimlock's furious red ones. In all their time as Shockwave's captives, they had made no visible progress in escaping from the scientist's grasp. Now that had changed.

The blue, red, and grey mech looked at Broadside. "Put everything you have into your next hit."

Broadside wordlessly acknowledged the other mech's instructions by backing up until his backplates were almost touching the back of his cage, electricity biting at his armor mere inches away, then he rushed forward.

Despite the fact only one rivet broke, the structural integrity of the holding cage had been severely compromised. This was due to a basic law of physics. When a set number of smaller objects are meant to hold together another object of greater mass, and one of the smaller objects is rendered useless, the remaining objects must take up the extra weight and strain. This leads to each individual object having a higher probability of failing, as each one must go beyond its set capabilities in order for the larger object to remain intact, and this effect is greatly increased when the remaining supporting objects were already damaged when the destroyed object failed. In common terms, this law is referred to by a number of names. The Butterfly Effect, Snowball Effect, Chain Reaction, Domino Effect, Ripple Effect, Cascading Failure, Mathematical Induction, and many others.

It was because of this law that the remaining rivets on the side of Broadside's cage failed, each one shattering from the force of the large Wrecker impacting the boundary of his prison, and out of the influence of the electromagnetic field Shockwave placed over his cell.

However, the law did not protect Broadside from harm. The energy he put into his final hit was so great, and the remaining rivets so strong, that he broke almost every gear and piston in his shoulder-joint, and split that section of his armor cleanly in two when the combination of Metaionic and electricity proved too much for his armor to take such an impact from.

Broadside grunted and grimaced when he felt his shoulder-joint break, as well as his armor, but he did not cry out, and instead fell to his knee-joints. He stayed there for a moment, then looked up at the blue, red, and grey mech, observing dryly, though through gritted denta, "I'm out, boss."

"So we all see," said the smaller mech, not changing his tone, despite Broadside's successful escape from his cage. There was still a long way to go before they could all leave. "Now you need to find a way to get another one of us out."

Broadside took another micro-klick to recover from bursting through his cage, then used the servo that was damaged the least to pick himself off the floor, other servo hanging uselessly at his side, and he looked around the room. His search turned up nothing he could use to break the blue, red, and grey mech's cage, but that wasn't surprising, since Shockwave never brought tools into their section of his lab. He still had an option in the form of his cannons, but with the treatments Shockwave had given him, and the fact his systems had been exposed to a minor EMP for a very long period of time, there was no telling what would happen if he used them. The scientist might have planted a fail-safe in his systems, a fatal one.

But, he had no other options.

The huge Wrecker stepped closer to the smaller mech's cage, and for the first time since he and his commander were captured more than an orbital-cycle ago, he brought the two massive, bulky cannons on his shoulder-joints online without getting electrocuted, heavy weapons commonly referred to as 'Heavy Neutron Cannons.'

The blue, red, and grey mech narrowed his optics marginally at one of the largest Wreckers he ever commanded, even before his injury. "You don't know what will happen to your systems when you activate those weapons, soldier," he said, knowing what Broadside was doing, yet unable to stop him, or see another option the larger mech could use to break the second cage.

"Nope. That's what makes surprises the best." Broadside aimed his Cannons at one side of the cage, directing his aim away from the mech inside, then fired.

Two balls of highly-condensed, unstable energy shot out of Broadside's Cannons, and exploded with the destructive force of more than a dozen rounds from a Riot Cannon. The side of the cage was instantly reduced to little more than slag, and the mech inside was hit by tiny bits of molten metal and composite, some of which would have gone into his optics, had he not quickly raised a servo to shield himself from the blast.

Broadside fared almost as badly as the cage.

Inside his frame, a dormant artificial parasite activated. It was installed by Shockwave during an experiment he was conducting on Broadside, and it was designed to bore its way into the huge Wrecker's spark if he activated any of his many weapon systems, and begin cutting through his outer sparkcasing the moment it detected a weapons discharge. This would, while not outright offline him, cause his frame to lockup when his spark realized it was potentially under attack, and would call all nanites in his chassis to guard it against the intruder. But all this would do to the parasite itself was delay it from its mission, and as it got closer and closer to accomplishing its goal, the mech would become more and more aware of its presence, yet less and less responsive to outside stimuli.

The parasite began to cut into Broadside's outer sparkcasing, and he collapsed to the ground with a cry of pain and fear.

The mech who had been inside the cage a moment ago stepped out of the burning hole that was one side of his cage as quickly as he could while still recovering from Shockwave's punishment, and went to the side of one of his Wreckers. "Broadside, can you hear me?" He asked, pain from the molten metal on his own frame ignored as he checked the larger mech's frame for the cause of his agony.

Broadside managed to get his initial reaction under control, though it was very clear to the others that it was difficult for him to even look up at his commander, let alone say, "I now hate surprises, Magnus."

Ultra Magnus ignored the huge Wrecker's joke, instead focusing his attention on finding out what was wrong with him. "Where are you wounded?"

Broadside weakly pointed at his chestplates, directly above his spark.

Magnus silently cursed. An internal injury. He couldn't help with that. He didn't have the necessary training or medical tools. But, one of the Dinobots might. "Swoop, do you know how to treat internal injuries while outside an infirmary?"

The smallest of the Dinobots, the closest thing the unit had to a medic, nodded eagerly. "Me Swoop know how!"

"Do you still have tools to treat them properly?" Asked Ultra Magnus.

"Me Swoop's best tools taken away!" Swoop answered, blue optics flashing unhappily. "But me Swoop know how to help!"

The Wrecker commander took in this information calmly. Now there was another factor they had to account for, another disadvantage they had to deal with. An injured teammate, which they couldn't even tend to. But he didn't have time to focus on that. He had to get the others off their platforms, and release them from the additional cold-plasma barriers.

Magnus looked up at the ceiling, searching for the emitters of the barriers containing the Dinobots, as well as the gravity fields holding up their platforms. His search quickly ended when he spotted a power conduit for the barriers and fields around Swoop, Slug, Snarl, and Sludge. The emitter for the cold-plasma barrier and gravity field around Grimlock was nowhere in sight.

"Be prepared to break out and jump," Magnus said to the four Dinobots, and deployed a simple servo-blaster, one of two he possessed, and took aim at the conduit.

All the Dinobots, besides Grimlock, who growled lowly at the fact he wasn't going to be freed yet, braced for the moment the barriers around them would deactivate, and their platforms to fall along with them. They would have less than three micro-klicks to break their restraints and get to the floor in front of them, before the gravity fields failed along with the barriers, and their platforms fell into the acid below them. If they took longer to get out of their restraints, they would be disintegrated.

Nothing new for them.

After Ultra Magnus saw that the Dinobots were prepared, he fired at the conduit.

Due to how the Wrecker commander's systems were still recovering from Shockwave's treatment earlier, his first, second, and third shots missed the conduit entirely, though with a lessening margin each time. It wasn't until he fired his fourth shot that he hit his target, but its outer shell protected it from harm. It took two additional shots to destroy the outer shell, and with Magnus' seventh shot, the conduit fired out an electrical arc, and then failed entirely.

The barriers around four of the Dinobots deactivated immediately, and the mechs that had been contained within them quickly began to pull at their restraints, cracking the strong alloy with each of their movements, until they started to break at the same moment the gravity fields wore off.

The Dinobots started to fall toward with their platforms, but one after the other, all their restraints snapped, and they jumped to the safety of the floor near Ultra Magnus and Broadside, leaping a distance of more than twice their height without even an effort. Swoop, however, took slightly longer than the others, since he was physically weaker, and he had to transform into his Pterodactyl mode to prevent himself from falling into the acid like his platform, which dissolved in the liquid only half a micro-klick after he escaped.

Swoop flew toward Ultra Magnus and the prone Broadside once he escaped, and he landed heavily next to the two Wreckers, while his fellow Dinobots began trying to find a way to release Grimlock. "Me Swoop here help!" He opened a sub-space pocket, then started fumbling through it in search of a basic medical scanner. It took him a moment, but he eventually found what he was looking for under a few energy cells, and he gave the huge Wrecker a quick scan.

The parasite inside Broadside felt the scan as it passed over it, and it dedicated more of its power reserves into completing its objective, its pre-programmed CPU registering the fact there was a possibility it had been detected, and accordingly adjusting its time frame for piercing the outer sparkcasing of Broadside.

Swoop narrowed his optics when he saw the outline of the parasite on his scanner. He placed his medical tool back into his sub-space pocket, and then slammed a servo down on Broadside's chestplates, the hit causing the huge Wrecker to go quiet as his intakes were stunned by the blow.

"Why did you do that?" Ultra Magnus asked, sky blue optics focused entirely on the _smallest_ Dinobot, who was still seven feet taller than the Wrecker commander.

"To stop bad bug from hurting him Broadside on inside!" Swoop replied. "But hit can't stop bad bug for long!"

"What 'Bad bug'?" Asked Broadside, a touch of uneasiness in his voice.

Swoop looked at the downed Wrecker. "The bad bug trying to eat your spark," he replied, as if that had been obvious.

The look Broadside gave Swoop accurately channeled the terror he felt when he heard this news.

Ultra Magnus looked up at the sound of weapons fire, and saw the other three freed Dinobots shooting at the ceiling. It was clear to the commander of the Wreckers that, unlike his own goal before, that the objective of the three massive mechs was to shoot the ceiling so much that it would partially fall apart, and expose the emitter and power conduit of the plasma barrier and gravity field around Grimlock.

It took the powerful weapons of the three Dinobots mere micro-klicks to destroy enough of the ceiling to expose the systems they were looking for, and only one of them had to even fire a single shot in order to turn it to molten metal and wires.

The barrier and field around Grimlock disappeared as soon as their sources were destroyed, and with a single, mighty effort and a roar, he shattered his restraints as if they had been made of glass. He then made the same jump his Dinobots made less a klick before him, and landed on his servos and knee-joints hard enough to vibrate the metal floor beneath him as his massive weight came crashing down.

For a moment, the titanic mech remained unmoved, enjoying the feeling of being unrestrained for the first time in more than a vorn, his slow, deep breaths seemingly drowning out the noise in the room. Then he growled, and raised his helm to look at Ultra Magnus, red optics blazing with fury not directed at the commander of the Wreckers.

Magnus gestured to the door, and the cold-plasma barrier that protected it, with his helm. "Take it down."

The thick, sharp, nine foot long metal horns on Grimlock's helm pulsed yellow, and he stood to his immense full height, absolutely towering over the ninety foot Sludge. Parts of left foreservo shifted, transformed, and snapped into different places, until they formed an energy shield not unlike that of a Brute's, only orange, and far, far larger and stronger.

A sword hilt deployed from below his right servo, and he wrapped his digits around it while sections of his foreservo, like that of his left, shifted and extended out, until a massive great sword, notched with sharp, angled grooves halfway along its inner side, finished forming. It was longer than Snarl was tall, and quickly started glowing orange as a power cell in its hilt began to heat the blade to incredible temperatures.

Grimlock examined his sword and shield, his trusted tools of war and destruction. It had been many orbital-cycles since he had last been able to deploy them.

He looked at the last remaining obstacle standing between what had been the prison of every mech in the room for too long, as if he could see through the fifteen meter-thick metal, and every other door that might be closed behind the scientist who had been keeping them captive. The mech who was responsible for turning him into what he was.

He growled, deeply and lowly. Then he charged.

And more than a thousand metric tons of furious Dinobot slammed into a cold-plasma barrier at eighty miles an hour.

The barrier covering the door was designed to withstand tremendous punishment before it failed, ranging from guided bombs missiles to a gunship ramming it at nearly three-hundred miles an hour. But, despite the fact it was created for durability, it had trouble containing Grimlock's immense, raw power, and it flickered once before it returned to full strength.

The enormous leader of the Dinobots snorted at how the barrier remained active, and he took several steps backward, then charged again, shield in front of him.

The barrier flickered twice when Grimlock's massive frame impacted it, but it, again, return to its full power.

Grimlock growled and stepped back again, then with a mental thought, he charged his energy shield with an electric current, causing energy crackle over its surface. Then he charged for the third time.

Sparks flew as Grimlock's shield made contact with the barrier, the two different types of energy conflicting with one another. The barrier flickered several times in the space of a few micro-klicks, then it fizzled and went inactive, leaving the door behind it exposed.

The massive mech grunted when the barrier failed, and then he slammed into the door with enough force to send a ripple through the air that the other mechs in the room felt, both in the air and beneath their pedes.

* * *

><p>On the other side of the prison door, near the hidden passage that led from his secret lab to his official one, Shockwave came to standstill when his audio receptors picked up a great rumble from behind him that was nearly as loud as a cannon blast.<p>

Slowly and calmly, the calculating scientist turned to look back at the door to the most heavily armored section of his hidden laboratory, which was still visible since he had yet to close the entryways to the parts of his lab he had to pass through in order to reach the imprisoned Autobots.

His highly perceptive single optic noticed that the immense, fifteen meter-thick door was approximately one inch closer to him, despite the presence of the lock made of molecularly-enhanced, ultra-strength alloy.

Another boom, even louder than the first, rumbled through the air, and the door moved another inch toward Shockwave.

The scientist immediately knew what was happening. Grimlock was out, and not only that, he had broken the cold-plasma barrier much faster than his calculations suggested was possible for him to accomplish.

He was getting stronger.

Shockwave immediately opened a universal communications channel to the entire base. _"This is Science Commander Shockwave. To all Decepticons currently stationed at Base Zetta-3, one of my experiments is about to break loose,"_ he said, his usual calm unbroken as he stepped through the hidden door, and used his terminal to activate a lockdown of both his secret and official laboratories. The doors of his secret laboratory closed and locked, blocking access to anything behind them. Additional blast doors folded over them, and secured his most valuable experiments by moving them back behind cold-plasma barriers, and doors thick enough to be considered walls.

He was about to close down the cages holding the Ferals, but reconsidered and instead opened them, releasing the animalistic Cybertronians in that section of his lab. He might not be able to control them or guarantee their survival, but he had many more of them contained in other areas of his lab, and they would be very useful in slowing down Grimlock.

His audio receptors picked up another rumble, and he felt the solid metal floor shake marginally with the impact of the titanic Dinobot slamming into the door.

At least, _in theory_ they would be useful in slowing down Grimlock.

Shockwave stepped away from his terminal and continued speaking as he slowly walked to the door leading out of his lab, _"I am triggering an Alpha-level security alert. Unlock the safeties on the armories, and lockdown all unnecessary sections of the base. All able Decepticons are to prepare for battle. Security team six, your presence is required outside my laboratory."_ He closed the channel after issuing his orders, finding it pointless to keep it open any longer than what was required.

The door opened for the calculating scientist as he approached it, and he stepped out into one of the many hallways of the base. He saw two Decepticon drones running toward him, clearly on their way to an assigned destination with the Alpha-level alert now active.

"You two," Shockwave addressed, causing the two drones to come to a halt. "Guard this door until security team six arrives. Don't let anything in or out." He turned and continued walking down the hallway without waiting for an answer.

"Uh," said one of the drones, unnerved by the Science Commander's direct address of he and the other drone. Shockwave's reputation was legendary among the Decepticons. And not in a _good_ way. "We'll get right on it, sir!"

'Of course you will,' Shockwave thought, turning the corner. One of the best qualities of drones was that they obeyed every command given by a superior, and without question. It was in their programming, and they were not even aware of it. A full Decepticon could tell them to place their own weapon to their helm and fire, and they wouldn't hesitate to carry out the instructions. The fact they obeyed Shockwave's order without question was a perfect example of this, and for a single, obvious reason.

Any guards posted outside his lab would be as good as offline the moment Grimlock burst through the final door. But, at least they would buy him a few more micro-klicks to prepare for the Dinobot's arrival elsewhere.

Behind the calculating scientist, now standing on either side of the door proudly, the two drones stood silently, servo-blasters out and held at the ready.

The first drone, who was the one who spoke to Shockwave, turned to his partner after a moment when a thought came to him. "Hey, 0-31J," he said, restricted CPU not finding strange at all to call another drone by a factory designation, and not a real name. "Why do you think Commander Shockwave had us guard his lab? There's no point to guard it, if a security team's on its way here."

"Because he wants us to be a distraction for whatever got out," replied 0-31J.

"What kind of distraction? Like the kind of distraction that can offline you if you don't pay attention to it?" The first drone asked.

"No. The kind that gives an experiment something else to offline besides a security team," 0-31J said bluntly, slightly older processor possessing a larger understanding of the place of drones in the Decepticon army.

The first drone's optic visor pulsed, and he looked ahead again. "Oh. Well… _Slag_…"

A faint rumble sounded from behind the door a moment later, and the two drones shared an uncertain look.

* * *

><p>On the other side of the door the drones were guarding, as well as several hidden ones behind that, Grimlock continued charging into the door of their prison, bending the lock, along with the door itself, with each hit.<p>

He slammed into the door at full speed again, moving it outward another foot. He had been increasing the amount the door moved each time he slammed into it, but he wanted to get out now. He had been contained, treated like a neglected pet, for too long. Now he could taste a hint of freedom, and he _was_ going to get it.

Ultra Magnus watched the titanic mech bash into the door with increasing furiosity, at the same time helping Broadside in any way he could, or rather in what ways Swoop knew how. Normally, Grimlock's presence was both a blessing and a curse. He was a blessing in the sense that he was a walking, though barely talking, tank of a mech that could dish out more punishment in a single klick than anyone else Magnus had ever seen, as well as take just as much. And he was a curse due to his battlerage, and general attitude toward non-Dinobots. Although, all the Dinobots except Swoop seemed to stick together more so than what was normal for a close unit, so perhaps that was where part of his attitude came from, but not most of it.

An example of this was when Grimlock would cross paths with a non-Dinobot at the Autobot base during the war on Cybertron, and the other Autobot would get in his way or not let him pass first. He would glare at the offending 'Bot. Or growl at them. Or push them aside. Or in one case kick them… _Lightly_. He had a superiority complex, believed himself better than all other Autobots, even Optimus Prime himself, and expected all other followers of the cause to acknowledge his superiority. When they didn't, he got angry. Not to the point of seriously hurting the other Autobot, but he would ignore their presence for the rest of their encounter, and be particularly vocal about his superiority when he saw that bot in the future.

As if he wasn't vocal enough about it in a normal situation.

Magnus flinched as Grimlock slammed into the door again, the deafening boom that followed so loud his audio receptors dimmed their sensitivity without him adjusting them.

But, despite his superiority complex, Ultra Magnus firmly believed Grimlock's presence in their prison was much more of a blessing than a curse.

And he would lean even more toward a blessing when they finally escaped the lab, and most certainly had to fight their way out of the base.

Grimlock's horns pulsed crimson in anger and frustration. He wanted to get out, to tear Shockwave apart piece by piece. But the door was still standing, still preventing him from ripping Shockwave in two.

He was _sick_ of its presence.

With another crimson flash from his horns, and a loud growl that would have terrified the extinct reptile his alt mode was based on, Grimlock backed up one more time, almost to where Ultra Magnus and Swoop crouched next to Broadside, slammed his massive sword against his shield, and rushed toward the door, every ounce of his strength behind him.

Sparks flew through the air, dense metal twisted and snapped, and the door virtually exploded outward, fragmenting into pieces ranging from the size of a human's thumb, to slabs that weighed as much as a small tank.

Grimlock ended his charge after obliterating the door. He glanced at the pieces of the door he destroyed, then looked around the room. His horns quickly flashed red, and he snarled behind his battlemask, narrowing his visor-like optics.

Another door stood in front of him. Shockwave was nowhere in sight.

He locked down this area of the base.

And he was scared.

As well he should have been.

The titan of a mech raised his shield and charged again, and the second door simply ceased to exist. He searched the room, but found that, like the last, it was empty. And not only that, but there was a third door in his path. He growled in frustration, then charged that one, too.

Back in the last room, the other six mechs contained in Shockwave's maximum security holding area followed Grimlock's trail of destruction, staying close together.

Sludge was in front, his larger frame built to take more punishment than the other Dinobots besides Grimlock. Out in front of him, a Diffraction Barrier, a weaker, one-way, portable version of a cold-plasma barrier, hovered above the floor, emitting from a device in his servo that came with the upgrades Shockwave gave the Dinobots near the end of the war on Cybertron.

Behind Sludge, Slug followed, his right servo in its Plasma Scatterblast mode, and his left servo on the weapon's action, ready to load another energy charge into its barrel after he used the one in the chamber.

Broadside followed after Slug, although not under his own power. Swoop and Ultra Magnus each had one of his servos slung over their backplates, supporting, and partially dragging, the much larger mech.

At the back, Snarl was on rear security. Both of his Z-23 Anti-Material Missile pods were out, along with the automated Ion Blasters on his backplates, which normally were disguised as the plates of the animal Shockwave based his alt mode on. His spiked tail was also twitching, almost as if it had a CPU of its own, and it wanted an enemy to get close to it.

Ultra Magnus felt fairly secure, surrounded by the massive Dinobots, but he knew that under normal circumstances, they would be rushing to keep up with their leader, competing with each other over who could offline more Decepticons. One of the only two reasons they were staying back was because Swoop was helping him with Broadside, and they didn't leave each other behind, no matter what. And the other reason was that they didn't want to get too close to Grimlock while his battlerage was active. When he was like this, he went from terrifying, to_ petrifying_, and rarely retained the ability to observe threats and issue commands.

The others needed him to be their leader until Grimlock's rage subsided. Commanding them was a tall order for him under _average_ circumstances. And considering how he estimated himself at half his usual strength, he was supporting a mech at least twice his mass, and it was the six of them against an entire base filled with Decepticons, all of which may be equipped with weapons designed solely to battle the Dinobots, it was made even more difficult.

Another door ahead of them was turned to twisted and sheared metal with a thunderous boom, and another violent growl from Grimlock echoed back to them.

Of course, their chances in battle increased drastically with the presence of a titanic berserker clearing the way ahead of them.

Approximately one klick and seven micro-klicks, and eight doors, later, Grimlock smashed through the thirteenth door overall with a furious snarl.

A snarl that was answered by piercing, chilling screams.

Three violet-opticed Cybertronians leapt at Grimlock, slamming into his shield with far greater strength than their size suggested they were capable of. It was the type of strength that, normally, would break a Cybertronian of similar size, and be more than a match even for a bot in a Brute-class frame.

But Grimlock wasn't similar to their size, and he was no Brute.

With little more strength than it took him to swing his servo, the enormous Dinobot flung the Ferals off his shield and into the wall, denting their armor inward from the impact and fracturing their internal frames. But they were up in an instant, injuries already beginning to heal from their enhanced nanites, the one success of the formula that had turned them into crazed animals.

The three Ferals leapt at Grimlock again, but he was ready for them. As they flew through the air, he brought his shield down on them, crushing them against the floor.

As Grimlock briefly fought the three Ferals, seven more crawled across the ceiling and through the destroyed doorway, screaming again as they spotted the other six mechs.

Ultra Magnus didn't hesitate to order, "Take them down."

The booming report of Slug's Plasma Scatterblast answered Magnus' order almost immediately, completely stopping one Feral in mid-air as the large plasma shell created a two meter-wide hole in its chestplates. It fell to the floor, and never moved again.

Another Feral started to drop down on Slug while he loaded another charge into his weapon, but a pair of missiles fired by Snarl caught it in its chestplates and helm, and Slug nonchalantly batted its lifeless chassis away from him at almost the exact same moment.

Sludge deployed his battleaxe as a third Feral jumped at him, and he neatly sliced it in two. He offlined another with a trio of shots from a Pulse Rifle that deployed from his other servo, then trapped a third in his Diffraction Barrier long enough for Slug to take it out with his Scatterblast.

The sixth Feral jumped from the ceiling and made to attack Ultra Magnus as he and Swoop continued supporting Broadside, screaming as it approached the helpless mech.

Without looking back, Slug loaded another energy charge into his Scatterblast, took his left servo off the action, aimed behind him, and took the Feral's helm off when it got within ten feet of the three mechs who couldn't join the fray.

The shot redirected the violet-opticed Cybertronian's offline frame toward the waiting tail of Snarl, and the least mature of the Dinobots hit the helmless chassis forward, taking the final Feral out of the air as it leapt at Sludge, who finished it off with his battleaxe.

All seven hostiles were downed in less than five micro-klicks. To most military units, that time would be considered incredible. A sign of their exemplary skills in combat. To the Dinobots, it signaled they were off their game, weakened by Shockwave's treatments, but that could not be helped.

The same could not be said of Grimlock.

Exactly one micro-klick after he offlined his first three attackers, Grimlock had cut three more in half. Vertically.

Two micro-klicks after that, eight more Ferals fell victim to the titanic mech's blade, frames lying on the floor with most of their chestplates missing, their helms cut off, or simply in multiple pieces.

And in the next two micro-klicks, seven more had perished by great sword, shield bash, or fist.

In the same time it took the other three battle-ready Dinobots to offline seven Ferals, Grimlock_ destroyed_ eighteen. And he didn't stop there.

Nine more Ferals offlined in the next three micro-klicks, and a grand total of thirty-one were turned to lifeless scrap metal by the time the others entered the room.

Even in their state, the Ferals knew better than to fight fairly against the titanic berserker known as Grimlock, and they jumped up onto the ceiling to get out of range of his huge blade. This action did little to save them from the Dinobots, and one by one, they fell offline, with the largest Dinobot claiming only a third of those that remained by throwing his sword and reclaiming it again and again.

Only a klick after it began, the battle came to an end, and the only sound anyone heard were Grimlock's furious growls and snarls.

The Dinobot leader didn't pause to admire his handiwork, and stomped to the door, shield up and prepared to destroy the next obstacle in his path.

He charged forward, and the door exploded in a shower of metal and stone, revealing the immense, mostly wide-open space that was Shockwave's official, and also private, lab.

Grimlock's horns pulsed brightly, the crimson flash illuminating his massive chassis in the dim light. Another fierce snarl formed behind his battlemask, and he huffed, the action emitting black smoke that floated up over the sides of his faceplate.

He was _finished_ with doors.

* * *

><p>Outside of Shockwave's lab, the drones stood at the ready, at least until they felt the ground shake beneath their pedes, and heard a great crash from behind the door to their superior's lab.<p>

"The pit was that?!" The first drone asked in a panic, backing away from the door and aiming his servo-blaster at it.

"I think Shockwave's pet just got out," 0-31J replied, mimicking the other drone's actions by creating distance between he and the door, and keeping his weapon at the ready. "Brace yourself. I think it's going to try hitting the do-"

At that moment, a thunderous boom echoed up and down the hallway as an incredibly massive mech collided with the other side of the door.

But, it did not break.

The wall did.

* * *

><p>Rock, metal, and stone flew in all directions, and the door, still mostly intact, slammed into the drones almost before their restricted CPUs registered the danger. Both drones were crushed by the resulting impact between the destroyed door and the far wall, and the only indications their offline frames were even there was the presence of energon already pooling on the floor, and the odd plate of armor that had been knocked off of its owner.<p>

Grimlock's violent gaze searched the hallway, like a beast looking for its prey, but Shockwave, nor any other Decepticon, was in sight. The titan's horns pulsed red, darker and more angry than before, then he threw his servos back and roared so loudly that bots three levels above him clearly heard his shout, _"SHOCKWAVE!"_

* * *

><p>At the base's main entrance to the surface, the scientist himself stopped in issuing instructions in how to create certain preparations for Grimlock's arrival. He listened intently, audio receptors picking up a faint cry of his name, echoing from down below.<p>

The other Decepticons with him halted in their work as well, their faceplates growing alarmed as they heard the enraged cry. Many even started to quake in fear, optics already becoming frantic.

Internally, Shockwave could not blame the mechs and drones for their behavior. Had he been a lesser, more emotional mech himself, he might have been having a reaction similar to theirs.

But he was not. And the illogical use of time would be be tolerated.

"Return to your tasks," Shockwave commanded, tone machine-like, as it usually was when not speaking to Lord Megatron. He found a touch of amusement, in infuriating the Decepticon leader.

Only some Decepticons obeyed, the others continued shaking in fright.

All noise seemed to be sucked from the air for a tenth of a micro-klick. Then noise returned in an explosion, both in the literal sense and in the form of detonation waves, and the pedes of one of the drones who had still been quaking in fear fell to the floor, his upper half missing and incinerated.

The calculating scientist lowered his Pulse Cannon, its barrel still smoking, and looked at the shocked faceplates of the Decepticons around him, working and not. "I gave you an order. Return to your tasks. Do not force me to repeat myself again."

The soldiers quickly masked their fear of Grimlock and returned to work, now afraid of annoying their commander.

Shockwave went back to issuing instructions, ignoring whenever a bot started to shiver when he addressed them directly. Being feared was a good thing, in his optic. It made others focus on the tasks given to them by their superiors, intimidated them into submission, and created loyalty when normally there would be rebellion. And it kept one very important fact fresh in their processors.

From their point of view, there was more than one monster they had to fear.

* * *

><p>Almost at the same moment Grimlock finished his battlecry, a squad of Decepticons made up of Brutes, two Pyros, and a Heavy Soldier ran around the corner of a junction in the hallway to his right, and they moved straight toward the titanic mech.<p>

The horns on Grimlock's helm flashed red, then orange. He roared at the squad in challenge, and charged them, not bothering to check on the other Autobots who were still making their way out of Shockwave's lab.

One of the Brutes in front was crushed against the wall.

Another was cut in two, from his shoulder-joint to his hip, despite the fact his shield was active and held out to meet Grimlock's sword.

The enormous Dinobot folded his sword against his servo, its blade pointed outward. Then he grabbed a third Brute by his helm and threw him into one of the Pyros with enough force to break armor, and they both went down, either critically injured or offline.

A fourth Brute swung his hammer at Grimlock, but the far larger mech caught the weapon effortlessly, and swung the bot into a fifth Brute faster than the fourth could swing his hammer, the impact crumpling the armor and internal frames of the Decepticons like they had been made of Caesium.

The one Pyro still standing activated his flamethrower, sending a stream of liquid white fire at Grimlock that burned hotter than the surface of most stars.

The titanic mech brought up his shield to meet the blaze. It blocked the liquid flames, mostly, but even the huge shield couldn't keep some of the fire from washing over his massive chassis. He ignored the searing pain, partly because his armor could withstand it for a longer period of time than all but the most heavily armored Cybertronians, and partly because he had been through far worse while in Shockwave's captivity.

Grimlock advanced on the Pyro and knocked its flamethrower to the side with his shield, its deadly fuel setting fire to a section of the metal wall. He then returned his sword to his servo, and sliced the Pyro's helm off.

Wild, barely aimed Ion Displacer shots flew around the Dinobot leader's helm, and Grimlock turned his enraged optics on the only member of the squad that was still standing, the Heavy Soldier.

The Decepticon's aim was very off, and fear was clear in both his optics and his shaky movements. Not only that, but he was already attempting to back away from the Dinobot, as close to scrambling as his large, bulky frame would allow.

Grimlock snorted and stalked toward the last Decepticon, ignoring the odd shot that hit his black armor that was now mostly glowing bright red from the heat of the Pyro's weapon. In one swift motion, he cut the Heavy Soldier's weapon in two, cut off one of the Decepticon's servos, reversed his grip on his sword, stabbed the smaller mech through the helm, and kept going until the last fourth of his weapon exited out of the Decepticon and embedded itself in the floor.

Another squad of Decepticons appeared in the left hallway in the junction. They all came to an abrupt halt when Grimlock spotted them and glowered at the group, with his armor glowing red and tendrils of smoke and hot air rising off his chassis. He looked, in their optics, like an angry Demicon, from the stories they heard during their sparklinghood.

Grimlock pulled his sword out of the floor back out through the Heavy Soldier's helm, and rushed the new Decepticons as the offline frame of the Heavy Soldier was finally allowed to collapse.

"We going right way by following he Grimlock?" Sludge asked Ultra Magnus, finishing off the only survivor of the first squad of Decepticons his leader battled with two shots from his Pulse Rifle.

"Yes. At least for now," Magnus confirmed, having been the only one who hadn't been heavily sedated and restrained when they had been transferred to their prison, and had seen where their cells had been in relation to the base's entrance to the surface. "I will vocalize when the path Grimlock is creating ahead of us begins diverging from the way to the exit."

Sludge grunted in acknowledgement, and blocked the chassis of a Decepticon from hitting him or anyone behind him, the frame having been carelessly thrown backward by Grimlock. "I Sludge keep following he Grimlock, then."

The Autobots continued making their way through the base, with Grimlock slashing, smashing, kicking, throwing, and breaking any Decepticons that dared to get in his path, while the others mopped up the few that managed to survive.

After nearly twenty klicks of fighting through the Decepticons, and Ultra Magnus improvising ways to return the rampaging Grimlock to the correct path, the seven Autobots found themselves entering a huge, open room.

The room was circular, and almost a kilometer in diameter. It was well over four times as tall as it was wide, and every fifty feet, the walls opened up to a three-hundred foot gap that hosed another level of the base, large enough even for soldiers in Annihilator-class frames to use. There were forty-two of these levels, along with a seven-hundred foot-thick block of metal and stone at the top, where naturally-occurring light was visible.

And the entire room was filled to the brim with Decepticons.

The bottom floor, where the Ultra Magnus and the others were, was filled with drones with servo blasters, but oddly not a single Decepticon in a larger or more heavily armed frame. They were the cannon fodder, and considering by the amount of shaking they were doing when they saw Grimlock, they knew exactly what their role was.

Each level above the bottom one was lined with drones with Thermo Missile Cannons, or operating Nucleon Shock Cannon and Ion Displacer turrets that were spaced for perfect, overlapping fields of fire.

Some of them were even using the ADC-3, a weapon that fired a barrage of small, guided missiles with a charge of Nucleon-charged plasma. It was the third generation of a line of weapons Shockwave created to keep the Dinobots in line.

A number of Heavy Soldiers, Pyros, Brutes, Insecticons, and even some Annihilators stood alongside their fellow Decepticons, cannons, flamethrowers, or shields at the ready.

The Autobots looked at their surroundings wearily, aware the rules of battle had just changed. There were too many Decepticons around them to count, and the ones positioned on the level above not only had the vast advantage of the high ground, but they also had a plethora of heavy armaments, all aimed right at them. Even at their full strength and with greater numbers, their chances of winning any approaching battle were exceedingly slim.

But Grimlock saw no disadvantage at that moment, didn't acknowledge the fact he was under any threat.

All he saw was Shockwave, calmly standing twenty-one levels above them, a Nucleon Shock Cannon on either side of him.

Grimlock had found him.

The level of fury the Dinobot leader was experiencing doubled, and black smoke poured freely from behind his battlemask.

His horns flashed a red so dark it was almost pitch.

His sword and shield folded away for later use without him sending a mental command.

His rage was so powerful that his chassis shook, and his servos clenched with enough force to bend starship armor.

He slammed his fist into floor hard enough to shake the ground.

His frame shifted, parts changing shape as he prepared to transform.

And then everything stopped as unimaginable pain flooded his chassis, electricity pulsing in tone with his spark. And he went down on all four limbs, struggling to roar in frustration more than pain. He couldn't transform.

"A valiant escape effort, Autobots, but you have reached the end of the line." Shockwave paced along the level he stood on, keeping his single optic on the Autobots below him. "One of your number is, tragically, suffering from an impairment which will prove fatal in short order."

As if to add to Shockwave's words, Broadside bit back a scream as the parasite in his chestplates renewed its quest to bore into the huge Wrecker's spark. But the large mech couldn't take the pain any longer, and he was forced into recharge by his frame, bringing his full weight on the two smaller mechs who had been helping to carry him through the base.

"Two of you are hampered by the fact you now must carry the dead weight of your comrade through the halls," Shockwave went on. "One of you is unable to transform. And _all_ of you are severely outnumbered and outmatched in firepower." His focused focused on Ultra Magnus, processor correctly deducing that the Wrecker commander was leading the others at the moment. "Surrender yourselves, and I will repair the Wrecker Broadside. Then I will make all your ends as painless as possible, without detracting from the required process. I give you my word on this."

Magnus' gaze didn't stray from that of the scientist above them. He knew how Shockwave worked, how he acted. By all accounts, he would make do on his word, but he had left out a number of critical details, any one of which could change what Shockwave promised. He hadn't said he'd deactivate the security measure he'd clearly installed in Broadside's systems, only repair him. He then could leave the measure active, and prolong the huge Wrecker's suffering.

Not only could he draw out Broadside's pain, but also the pain he and the others would go through whenever he conducted whatever twisted experiment he had planned, and point out that if he sped the process up, it would hurt more, and he had given his word to make sure they weren't put through _more_ pain. He had never said how _long_ he'd have them go through that lesser pain.

After half a micro-klick, Ultra Magnus gave his answer, "Shockwave, go frag yourself."

"Very well." Shockwave gestured to the Decepticons all around him. "Open fire."

Missiles launched toward the Autobots in a cloud of metal and fire. Plasma, Nucleon, standard combustion, and blaster fire filled the air. The floor exploded from each shot, sending debris in all directions, along with a few Decepticon drones when another Decepticon from above aimed their weapon incorrectly.

"Cover!" Magnus shouted.

The others sprang into action.

Sludge placed more energy into his Diffraction Barrier, creating a small area behind his shield where missiles and weapons fire couldn't reach.

Slug fired his Scatterblast through Sludge's barrier and at the canister of fuel on a Pyro's backplates, the energy charge easily piercing the armor there, and igniting the liquid ammunition for the Decepticon's weapon.

The fuel detonated spectacularly, vaporizing the Pyro who had been shot, the Ion Displacer he'd been standing next to, and any other Decepticon within eighty meters of him.

Snarl gave Ultra Magnus and Swoop covering fire with his own weapons as they propped the unresponsive Broadside against a support pillar near the hallway they used to enter the room, then added their own weapons to the fray, quickly downing a trio of drones on their level.

Everyone was battling with all their strength, except for Grimlock.

The massive mech was still trying to transform, ignoring the shots from all the servo-blasters firing at him to try fighting through the pain and change into his immensely powerful alt mode. But no matter what he did, nothing worked. Not even channeling all the rage he felt into transforming could change the final result of failure. The very thought of being physically influenced by something the scientist did infuriated him beyond measure. But there was no denying he was stuck in his true form. Again. Just like the first time he escaped Shockwave's captivity.

He was being held back. Just like Shockwave wanted him to be.

_No one_ held him back.

With a maddened roar, Grimlock focused all his efforts on building up more anger, creating more rage, and he let that passionate fury control his chassis.

A squad of drones went flying as the titanic Dinobot's shield came back online, and he bashed them away from him.

Then Grimlock was back on his pedes and running forward, sword cutting down the drones around him like wheat in a field. But his was helm tilted upward to glare at the scientist far above.

Ultra Magnus saw what Grimlock was doing, and guessed his intentions. The Wrecker commander knew what the enormous mech was capable of, what he would do if given a sliver of a chance.

Offline Shockwave, no matter the cost.

The one and only problem with that goal was how there were hundreds upon hundreds of Decepticons attacking them. Grimlock wouldn't even get close.

Magnus took down two more drones and cried out over the roar of battle, "Grimlock! Stand down! Sta-" He cut himself off when he spotted a number of Nucleon Shock Cannon shots heading his way, and he ducked behind the pillar even more just as they hit.

The leader of the Dinobots ignored his call and kept running forward, literally crushing several drones that couldn't get out of his way in time, and were stepped on.

"You Grimlock! No!" Sludge yelled, offlining two drones simultaneously with his Rifle and battleaxe.

"Get your fragging aft back here, boss!" Slug added, the only one of the Dinobots who didn't have a mild speech impairment.

Snarl and Swoop added their own statements as well, but Grimlock continued on, driven by rage, and heedless of Magnus and his fellow Dinobots' cry. Shockwave was _his_.

The Dinobots' leader slammed his shield into another half dozen drones, then he jumped up, his vastly enhanced strength easily allowing him to jump the required height to reach the suspended stone floor of the level above the floor he had just left. At the apex of his jump, he reversed the grip on his sword and stabbed his weapon into the rock as a support, leaving most of his frame dangling in empty air.

A Decepticon with an ADC-3 on the level just above Grimlock took aim at the massive Dinobot, but Grimlock brought his shield up in an instant, and the resulting missiles fired from the Decepticon's weapon exploded harmlessly against the barrier of energy. Grimlock then returned the favor to the drone by planting his pedes near his embedded sword, which allowed him to raise the rest of his frame up from empty air, and crushed the Decepticon beneath his shield.

The leader of the Dinobots paid no attention to the weapons fire sent his way by nearby Decepticons. His focus went to Shockwave as soon as he crushed the drone, and he called on every ounce of his rage to power him for the next part of his journey to utterly destroy the scientist above him.

Shockwave would pay for all the pain he had caused him.

Grimlock would make sure of that.

The titanic mech braced as if he was crouching on the ground, letting his sword hold him up. Then he launched himself upward, covering a vertical distance that was more than twice his own height, before he stabbed his sword into the rock and alloy of the third level.

His actions caused many Decepticon optics to focus on him, along with their numerous weapons and turrets, but his massive shield proved more than able to take the firepower sent his way, and several turrets were destroyed when the shots they had fired ricocheted into turrets or Decepticons that were near Grimlock.

This change in focus allowed Ultra Magnus and the Dinobots to move to better cover, and just in time, too. The emitter for Sludge's Barrier was damaged, but his auto-repair systems were working on making it functional again, Swoop had been moderately injured when a Nucleon shot hit too close for his armor to handle, and the pillars they had been hiding behind were almost gone. It was a miracle none of them had been offlined.

Grimlock's actions also gained Shockwave's full attention, who had been watching both the Dinobots' leader and the other Autobots far below. Now he all of his focus was dedicated to the massive mech and his obvious intention to climb his way up the walls of the entrance.

Grimlock was after him, and him alone. He knew that with certainty. Any Decepticons that were on the way up were just a hindrance.

But that didn't mean he wouldn't fight them if they came to him.

"Insecticons," the scientist said as Grimlock jumped up another level, forcing the Decepticons firing at him to readjust their aim. He instantly gained the attention of every Insecticon at the entrance, such was their loyalty to him. "Remove Grimlock from the walls."

All the Insecticons let out a chilling screech, which to them sounded joyous, before they transformed into alt modes similar to their namesake and took flight.

Moments later, the Insecticons were assaulting Grimlock from every direction, either firing their weapons from a distance, or getting up close to melee with the Dinobots' leader.

That was a mistake, on their part, and more than a dozen Insecticons were offlined by Grimlock within the first micro-klicks of their attack. But he did not stay to fight. He had a goal, and it wasn't the Insecticons.

Grimlock deactivated his shield long enough to grab an Insecticon off his backplates and throw it into another that was flying, reactivated the protective barrier in time to block several Nucleon shots, and jumped up to the next floor.

The Insecticons pursued him, and soon a pattern formed in their battles. Grimlock would pause to battle the Insecticons for several moments, then jump up to the next level once his enraged processor registered the fact he he couldn't stay in one place for too long with so many Decepticons attacking him, and the Insecticons would follow him. The process would then repeat.

Shockwave's CPU calculated Grimlock's probability of reaching his current position, factoring in how with each floor the Dinobots' leader climbed, more and more Insecticons were offlined without completing their goal, and fewer and fewer Decepticons from below could aim up at Grimlock.

The odds, while still in the scientist's favor, were increasing with each passing moment.

Shockwave powered up his Pulse Cannon as the Dinobots' leader jumped up another floor, smashing the barrel of an Ion Displacer turret that was just above where he impaled his sword. The air around the scientist seemed to disappear for a brief moment, then he fired two powerful shots down at the approaching Dinobot.

The shots found their marks easily, but did little more than scorch the dark paint of Grimlock's nearly two meter-thick armor, and the enormous mech easily jumped to the next floor, completely unharmed by Shockwave's Cannon.

Shockwave lowered his weapon, aware that greater firepower was required to stop the Dinobot, and looked at the gunner of the Nucleon Shock Cannon to his right. "Fire."

The gunner acknowledged the scientist's order by aiming the weapon turret he was operating at Grimlock, and firing several times.

Grimlock saw the shots coming, but did nothing to stop them. He let them hit him fully, the explosions blackening his already dark chassis, but causing little damage to his armor. He roared up at the scientist, as if daring him to try taking him down again.

"Take off his helm," Shockwave ordered the gunner.

The drone fired the turret again, aiming for Dinobot's helm as he had been commanded to.

Grimlock growled at the approaching shot, but instead of allowing it to hit him like before, he bashed his shield against it just before it was going to hit him, returning the deadly projectile back where it came from. And with _greater_ velocity than it initially had.

The drone had enough time to flash his visor in alarm, then the shot hit, and he ceased to exist.

The explosion knocked many Decepticons off their pedes as molten metal and twisted Nucleon parts flew in all directions. Debris from the detonation proved damaging to the average drone, and two of them went down with burning debris piercing their armor.

Shockwave, however, remained unmoved and unaffected by the blast and loss of a drone. He stood as calmly as he had before the battle began, despite how Grimlock's odds of reaching him had increased.

"Destroy the Dinobot," he ordered the gunner on his left, who was now shaking in his seat, either from fear at the current threat or from shock at seeing a fellow drone offlined so suddenly. Perhaps it was both.

Almost reluctantly, as if he had been considering whose wrath he would rather face, the drone obeyed the calculating scientist's order and fired his Nucleon turret at Grimlock.

Within two micro-klicks, the shot fired from the turret returned to its sender, and the second drone and turret suffered the same fate as the first.

The only indication Shockwave acknowledged the resulting explosion was how he brushed off a piece of debris from his left shoulder-joint with his right servo, his single optic focused entirely on the approaching Dinobot.

He knew that, with both nearby turrets gone, Grimlock's odds had now surpassed his own. But, he still had one piece to put into play, one last chance to stop the Dinobots' leader from reaching him.

He just needed to time it properly.

Below Shockwave, Grimlock jumped up to another level, bashing a Pyro away from him as soon as he embedded his sword into the floor. He continued to the next floor without bothering to offline the Decepticon, his attention entirely on the scientist. Nothing was going to delay him any longer, nothing was going to get in his way. Shockwave's time was up.

And he was going to enjoy ripping the scientist limb from limb.

Grimlock quickly advanced another floor, splitting an unlucky Brute in half without even meaning to when he jumped too high, and had to stab his sword into the top of the floor instead of the side like he had been.

Shockwave moved a little closer to the railing in front of him, as if patiently waiting for Grimlock's arrival.

The Dinobots' leader swatted a trio of Insecticons away with his shield, offlined a drone equipped with an ADC-3, and rose another level.

Shockwave observed blankly, issuing no commands to the Decepticons around him.

Grimlock jumped up and stabbed an Annihilator through the chestplates, and used the Decepticon as a stepping stone to the next floor, the larger, now-offline mech falling over the railing and toward the bottom level, where his frame crushed many drones who were still online and attacking the other Autobots below.

The scientist didn't even blink at the loss of the massive helicopter.

The titanic Dinobot deactivated his shield, grabbed an Insecticon out of the air, crushed its helm in his servo, and reactivated his shield and went up to the next floor, the last one between he and his goal.

Shockwave remained unaffected by the advancements of the one mech who he actually had a minor fear of.

Grimlock roared, and leapt at Shockwave with his sword prepared to strike. He had him.

It was at that moment, when Grimlock jumped toward him, that Shockwave aimed his Pulse Cannon at the support of an immense platform, three times Grimlock's mass, attached to the level above him and fired.

The shot hit at the base of the main support of the platform, the precise point Shockwave was aiming for, despite never breaking his gaze away from Grimlock, and the platform fell.

It began tumbling, though only had completed a quarter of a rotation before it arrived at Shockwave's level, at the exact same moment Grimlock's sword was above the floor's railing.

The massive mech hadn't seen the platform coming, as his focus was on Shockwave, and therefore could do nothing by the time it impacted him, and began reversing his forward momentum. But, even as he started to fall, he continued swinging his sword with all his strength, intent on taking off the scientist's helm before he fell.

His gargantuan sword cut through the air at speeds a normal Cybertronian wouldn't be able to match with a dagger, backed by a strength that broke the strongest alloy like it was Balsa Wood. The weapon itself was a legendarily powerful blade, even before it was rediscovered and claimed by Grimlock. Its edge was sharp enough to cut metal simply by being dropped on it. When it made contact with the scientist, his armor would be as effective as paper.

But the sword didn't make contact, and the tip of the blade missed the motionless helm and unblinking optic of Shockwave by less than an eighth of an inch.

Then Grimlock fell, roaring all the way down in rage as the platform carried him further and further from the mech he wanted to tear apart more than anything else in life. He had been so close to the scientist, _so close_ to making Shockwave pay for all the agony he had been through. Now all of his progress was being reversed.

The platform continued tumbling even with Grimlock under it, and it eventually pushed him forward, slamming him between the solid metal platform and the equally strong stone and alloy wall of the base, and creating an explosion of rock and debris as the massive Dinobot shattered the organic material almost on contact.

Decepticon of all types scrambled away from the railings as Grimlock and the platform continued falling, crushing sections of several floors as their combined mass and kinetic energy proved to be too great for the levels to withstand.

With a rumbling boom that could be felt even half a dozen levels above, Grimlock landed on the bottom floor, the impact sending debris and drones flying almost a hundred meters from the point where he hit.

The Dinobots' leader began sitting up, looking little worse for wear after his long fall.

Then the platform landed on top of him, shaking the ground even more than Grimlock had, and creating an explosion of rock that sent debris across the entire bottom floor. It even sent pebbles up to the forth level.

Neither the platform, nor anything underneath it, moved an inch after it fell.

Ultra Magnus and the Dinobots' weapons had fallen silent as soon as they had seen Grimlock be ripped from the wall by the terrace, but it seemed like they died again when the titanic mech had at least three-thousand metric tons of metal fall on him at terminal velocity. At such speeds, an object of that mass would impact with almost four point five terajoules of kinetic energy, which was nearly equal to the energy released during the detonation of one point one kilotons of TNT.

Not even Grimlock could take punishment on that level and come out unharmed.

"Grimlock!" Swoop yelled, no longer noticing the weapons fire heading for him. "You Grimlock okay?"

He received no response.

"You Grimlock!" Called Snarl. "Answer!"

Grimlock remained silent, and there was no sign of movement underneath the platform.

Slug sighed quietly, knowing something was wrong with his leader if he wasn't responding even with growls, and well aware he was the only one of the mechs in cover hard-helmed enough to go help him. "The things I do for you, boss," he said under his breath. He looked up at Sludge, who was in cover next to him. "Cover me!" He then rushed out from his cover, taking down two drones with a single shot from his Scatterblaster, its shell powerful enough to pierce through the armor of multiple targets with ease.

A drone came at him with a sword deployed, but Slug simply kicked him out of his way and kept running toward his downed leader.

Until Shockwave put a Pulse Cannon shot in his chestplates.

All of Slug's armor proved little match for the powerful shot, and all forward momentum was reversed. He was sent onto his backplates, optics flickering between being active or being offline. Parts of his armor were on fire, having been turned molten by Shockwave's Pulse Cannon, but he did not cry out. He didn't have the energy to.

Shockwave gazed down at the fallen Dinobot for a moment, determining whether he was offline or not. When the scientist found his target was still online, he powered up his still-smoking Cannon and fired again.

The shot raced toward Slug, requiring only half a micro-klick to travel the two kilometer distance from where Shockwave stood, to the helpless mech on the floor.

But just as the Cannon shot got within ten feet of Slug, it exploded harmlessly against the repaired Diffraction Barrier of Sludge.

Earlier, the larger Dinobot had chased Slug out toward Grimlock, having suspected Shockwave's attention would be drawn to the smaller mech's rash decision of rushing to their leader. A choice he was now very glad he had made. If he hadn't, Slug would be offline.

Although, now he had to get both of them to safety before Shockwave managed to destroy his Barrier, or the drones around them swarmed him.

The second largest of the Dinobots grabbed Slug by the shoulder-joint and dragged him back the way both of them had come, making sure to keep his Barrier up above his helm to absorb any weapons fire from above, including Pulse Cannon shots from the scientist who had now downed two of the five Dinobots.

Shockwave fired repeatedly at Sludge's Diffraction Barrier, and many Decepticons, both those on turrets and those using normal weapons, joined him on his assault on the retreating Dinobots. But he knew that such action was futile. He had designed Sludge's Barrier to take incredible amounts of firepower, even cannons and missiles mounted on gunships. The fire they were sending in the large Dinobot's direction wouldn't break it. But, it would keep his helm down and prevent him from firing back, and allow the drones on the Autobots' level to fire on him freely.

Just as Shockwave expected, Sludge's Barrier stood against the punishment, dimming only when it was hit by a shot from a Nucleon, ADC-3, or his own Cannon, and the drones on the lowest level were given many opportunities to hit the two retreating Dinobots with their servo-blasters.

Until the other three Autobots began giving Slug and Sludge covering fire, offlining five Decepticons within three micro-klicks of providing cover for their comrades. They kept firing even as many drones turned their attention to them, and didn't stop until Sludge finally dragged Slug into the tunnel the Autobots used to enter the room, returned to the battle, and Swoop transformed and flew into the tunnel to treat their most recently injured teammate.

Shockwave lowered his Cannon once Slug was out of his line of fire. Sludge's Barrier made it pointless to attack him, and the other Autobots were in solid cover. Continuing his assault on the large Dinobot would be an illogical waste of time.

And perhaps, their entire battle was a waste.

There was no denying that his forces were wearing down the Autobots, sapping their immense reserves of strength. But for every Dinobot taken from the fight, they were taking thirty or forty Decepticons, and that was not counting the casualties inflicted by Grimlock, before he had fallen. Too many resources were being spent and lost in this battle. It would take nearly an entire solar-cycle of mining to gather the necessary resources to feed the manufacturing of replacement drones, weapons, and munitions, and another three to assemble them correctly. It was all too much effort for too little gain to logically justify.

He would have to resort to his secondary plan. It was something he had hoped not to put into motion, but it was unavoidable if he wished to conserve as many resources as possible. And, it would leave both his laboratory and the frames of the Autobots intact his own uses.

"Crawler," the scientist said to a Decepticon lieutenant as the other mech ran by with a ADC-3 in his servos, not turning to look at the lesser-ranked Decepticon. "Activate the Purge on the lowest level."

Crawler paused for a moment, uncertain whether to voice his concerns for the drones below. The Purge was a security system installed in every corner of the base, and was very effective. It was made up of EMP pulse generators that were calibrated to fry the electrical signals all living beings had pulsing through their systems, both organic and mechanical. When activated, it would pacify everything within its activation area, whether that area be confined to a single room, or the entire base.

"Is that necessary, sir?" Asked Crawler. "The drones seem to be holding the Autobots back effectively."

"'Holding' is the keyword of that statement," Shockwave replied. "They are proving to be incapable of defeating the Dinobots, and their numbers are already thinning rapidly. The Purge will preserve their frames for later repairs and reactivation with new processors. Do not make me repeat myself, Lieutenant."

Crawler quickly understood the meaning behind his commander's words, and the unspoken reference to the drone who had refused to listen to Shockwave during preparations. He transformed into his jet alt mode and flew up to the level above Shockwave, where there was a tunnel that led to the Purge's control room.

Ultra Magnus watched Crawler fly away with suspicion. It was clear Shockwave had given the other Decepticon orders, but he was much too far away to hear them, even without the roar of battle around him. However, he knew that if the scientist was sending a Decepticon away from the battle, then whatever task the other mech had been assigned meant nothing good for he and the others.

They needed to find another exit.

"Sludge," the Wrecker commander shouted over the sound of battle, gaining the attention of the second largest of the Dinobots. "This battle's beyond us. Grab Broadside and fall back. We're going to find an alternate way out of the base."

"But what about him Grimlock?!" Asked Snarl, optics widened in alarm. "We not leave him behind!"

Magnus was about to answer that they had no way of recovering the Dinobots' leader, whether he was online or not, but then he heard a slow groaning of metal. He looked over the pipe he was using for cover, and saw the huge platform that had fallen on Grimlock slowly rising off the floor.

The platform continued rising at a gradual rate, then suddenly sped upward and landed on its top side with a boom, crushing an unlucky drone who hadn't acted fast enough to avoid the metal slab.

A sluggish Grimlock rose up from the floor. One of his optics was cracked, his battlemask was dented, his right horn was bent, his left servo and pede were visibly damaged and sparking, his shield emitter was destroyed, and his sword was broken into multiple pieces, but he was online.

The titanic mech didn't see the damage to his sword until he was fully on his pedes. His faceplate grew dark and enraged when he finally did, and he carefully searched for the pieces and gathered them together, dodging any Nucleon or ADC-3 shots sent his way with deceptive skill. Once he was finished, he placed the pieces of his weapon in a sub-space pocket.

It was just after he sub-spaced his broken sword that he noticed the sole Dinobot who had the ability to fly attending Slug. All anger left his optics in that moment, and all signs of his battlerage left him. "SLUG!" He cried, and ran toward Swoop and the injured member of his team as fast as his damaged pede would allow him, tossing away any drone that got in his way, and knocking Magnus over when he jumped over the Wrecker commander's cover.

Within moments, the Dinobots' leader was at Slug's side, attempting to speak to the wounded mech as Swoop worked to stabilize him, but having little success due to Slug's condition.

Ultra Magnus picked himself up and offlined a drone who attempted attacking him while he couldn't fight back for a brief moment. The officer in him wanted to reprimand Grimlock for not looking where he was going while in battle, but he knew that would be pointless. The immense mech cared about his Dinobots more than anything. They were his brothers, and he would take his own life if it meant they could live another cycle. As the commander of the Wreckers, Magnus felt for him in that regard.

"Grimlock, we need to move," Ultra Magnus said after letting the Dinobot leader speak to his soldier for a moment, not needing to raise his voice to its earlier level due to their close proximity. "Shockwave sent a Decepticon to another location, and there's only one reason he would send an asset away from battle."

"Him trading for bigger toy," Grimlock said, his voice even deeper and more gravelly than Magnus'. It was like he was grinding rocks to dust inside his throat.

Magnus nodded, ignoring the broken words of the the giant. Grimlock's speech patterns may have been permanently mared by Shockwave's experiments, but that didn't mean the massive mech couldn't think clearly when he wanted to. "We need another exit, and quickly. Whatever it is Shockwave is putting into play could arrive at any time."

Grimlock's only acknowledgement was a grunt, then he picked Slug up off the floor as soon as Swoop finished treating the wounded Dinobot's injuries and moved back down the tunnel he had led the group through earlier, quickly turning into a hallway he had gone by the first time he had been through.

Ultra Magnus repeated his previous instructions to Sludge, and once the second largest Dinobot had placed the unmoving Broadside on his shoulder-joint, Magnus led the rest of the Autobots in pursuit of Grimlock. They provided covering fire for each other until they had entered the same hallway as Grimlock, then they increased their pace until they had caught up with the titanic mech and their wounded teammate.

The scientist watched the Autobots' retreat passively, and paid no attention to the questioning looks his underlings gave him as they stopped firing their weapons, chassis language suggesting they were waiting for him to give them orders. It was clear the Autobots were searching for another method of escaping, but they would find that the closest secondary entrance was three kilometers away, heavily guarded and on the other side of a maze of tunnels and hallways that made it exceedingly difficult for bots to travel through in their first time on the base. By the time they even reached the alternate exit, the Purge will have activated.

_Should_ have activated.

Shockwave opened a communications channel. _"What is the delay, Crawler?"_

_"System's still starting up, sir,"_ the lieutenant replied. _"Primary power is unsteady on the ground floor. A main cable may have been damaged during the battle. But I have secondaries up and running, and the Purge should be fully charged within five klicks."_

_"For your sake, it had better be ready in two, Lieutenant."_

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><p>Ultra Magnus opened a door as he and the others continued down a hallway perpendicular to the one they used earlier, and he found himself looking at the inside of yet another storage room. He mentally crossed off the passageway as being an alternative exit, as he had done for four other doors, and ran to catch up with the Dinobots.<p>

They were now far from the main entrance, but they were no closer to finding another escape route. It was almost impossible to. There were dozens of doors in this hallway alone, and not a single one had an identifying marking, or even a number. They all looked exactly the same, with each one having the same probability of leading to an exit as the other. It was making finding a way out almost impossible.

Magnus reached another door the Dinobots hadn't opened yet, but he quickly found that the door led a small parts recycling center, and he continued on with the others.

A humming suddenly filled the air, coming from all around them and increasing in pitch with each passing moment.

The sound gave Ultra Magnus an uneasy feeling, and he suspected it was Shockwave's doing. A security system, perhaps?

"What that?" Asked Snarl, looking up and down the hallway as he opened another door to see if it led to an escape, catching up with the others when it revealed a workshop.

"Shockwave's bigger toy," Grimlock answered with a growl. "We need find new exit now."

Ultra Magnus silently agreed with the Dinobots' leader, but he also knew they had too many doors to search, too many hallways left to explore, before the increasing pitch around them reached a crescendo, and whatever system was powering up activated. After all their efforts, all their fighting to get out, they had run out of time. They had been defeated.

Shockwave had won.

Then Swoop called to them from ahead, where he had flown to examine a long section of the hallway that was strangely bare of doors or hallways, "Me find something!"

The smallest Dinobot's statement gained the attention of all the other Autobots, and, quickly, they made their way to him and looked at the wall when Swoop pointed a digit at the stone.

It was covered in tiny water droplets, no larger than a millimeter in diameter. That could only mean a very large source of liquid water was on the other side of the wall, one with a constant current strong enough to begin slowly eroding away the rock. Currently, the wall was solid and structurally sound, since only the smallest of water droplets were starting to seep inside, but it would likely be a very different story in little more than a jour's time.

If it eroded _naturally_, of course.

"You think the water on the other side of the wall is our escape route," Magnus said, a statement, not a question. It would be easy to break down the wall, but the problem was they had no idea how large the water source was, or where they would be going once they entered it. They would have no landmarks to go by, no way of travel besides walking. It could put them in a situation just as dire as the one they were currently in.

Swoop nodded eagerly, looking up as the humming was joined by a high-pitched whine.

"We'll have no idea where we're going, once we break that wall down," pointed out the Wrecker commander.

Grimlock let smoke out from behind his battlemask in a scoff. "It no different than here," he said. He then stepped toward the wall, still carrying Slug, and started to kick the divider between them and potential freedom.

Cracks started to appear in the rock, widening each time Grimlock's pede stuck it. Water soon followed the enlarged cracks, starting at just a small, constant trickle, and quickly growing to sizeable leaks.

The Dinobots followed their leader's example by deploying their weapons and shooting the wall, weakening it further. And Magnus joined them, accepting that they had no time to look for another option besides the unknown.

The leaks grew in size and numbers rapidly, each one spewing out hundreds of gallons of water every micro-klick. This surge of water weakened the wall even more, but it refused to break even as what parts remained intact were forced to hold back more weight.

Finally, just as the humming and whine reached new levels of intensity, the rock lost its battle against the liquid, and the wall collapsed.

A massive torrent of dark water surged through the space where the wall once occupied, slamming into the Autobots like a battleship, and nearly sweeping Ultra Magnus and Swoop away if not for Sludge and Snarl, whose greater masses allowed them to only be sent to the opposite wall by the outburst. Although Sludge had an easier time standing than Snarl, partly because he was now carrying Swoop along with Broadside.

Grimlock, who was the least effected by the wall's collapse, raised his servo in front of his faceplate and fought his way through the flood, a challenging roar lost in the deafening deluge. He continued into the water until the flow was up to his chestplates, then he surged forward and disappeared into the maelstrom where the wall once stood.

The only other two mechs able to stand followed after Grimlock, fighting against the water with each step, until they, too, came to the point where their leader had stood.

With mighty efforts, Sludge and Snarl pushed both themselves and the mechs they were helping through the tide and into water above all of their helms.

Just as the Purge activated behind them, its systems uneffected by water due to their presence in the ceiling.

Magnus saw a flash of light behind them, mere feet away from the powerful vortex sucking water into the base, but he wasn't harmed by it. None of them were. They were outside the base, beyond the limited range the Purge had been designed for. They were out.

Snarl and Sludge kept fighting against the vortex behind them, until they came to a ledge they could barely make out in the dark, even with their optics adjusted for the light. It was clear it dropped off into deeper water, into territory none of them had experience with. But was also clear Grimlock had jumped off it already, since there were no other paths they could take.

The four responsive mechs shared a look, straining to see each other in such a dimly-lit place, and an unanimous decision was made, and would have been made even without Grimlock having already jumped.

Sludge and Snarl stepped off the ledge, into the deep water the Dinobots' leader had gone into moments before them.

And they all went down into the unknown.

* * *

><p><strong>Yup. 16k words. One scene. One BATTLE scene, with nothing else. No movement in the plot I originally intended for this chapter. This is pathetic on my part.<strong>

**I really can't say I am sorry enough. Here I am, going two months without updating, and I can't even write a chapter that is a standalone chapter. I had to split it into two parts. Again. Ugh.**

**This seems to accurately display how my writing's been going for a while now. Long waits, short update for me, and no forward progress. It's what's been going on with my novel and my Lord of the Rings story as of late. Really not fun, especially on the novel. Please don't rage at me, I really, REALLY tried everything I could to write this chapter as I pictured it, but like my other projects, it wasn't working and I had to fight it all the way.**

****But again, I am very, very sorry for my poor update. I AM going to make my next one much longer, and not just word wise, but in terms of narrative.****

****One last thing. I have started to use my profile for updates on my writing. Progress, time guesstimates, word counts, stuff like that. So I will be updating my profile periodically to let you all know how I am doing writing wise.****

****This chapter's credit song is "Sub Pub Music - The Cauldron Born" From where I stand *sit, more like* this song fits very well with the theme of the chapter more than the ending. Grimlock's anger, the ridiculous amount of battle in the chapter, and perhaps a little of the mystery of the ocean depths. Personally, that last one has always been something that's affected me.****

**Please take a few seconds to leave a review, or send a PM my way. I treat all feedback equally, and appreciate every letter of it. Well, except for trolling, because that's not helpful or constructive in any sense. But that's the one exception.**

**Thank you all for reading, and have a great day/night, depending on where you live when you first read this. :)**

**See you soon.**


	39. Escape: Part 2

**Well, this took WAY longer than I wanted. I can't say I am sorry enough, my readers. This shouldn't take me this long to write. And I am sorry for leaving so many of you waiting for so long. But at least I wrote this novel of a chapter.**

**... No, seriously. This chapter would be considered a novel on its own; it's over 40,000 words long.**

**Let's see, is there anything I can comment on here that I didn't before? Hmm. Well, Age of Extinction still looks awesome, though I am REALLY trying to keep my hopes down so I can be surprised and not disappointed. Pretty much it for the notes up here. Oh, wait! Since I have now been writing this story for more than two years *that doesn't make me feel like an old guy on here at all*, I have decided, on suggestion from LeaderPinhead, to begin using hyphens, colons, and semi-colons in Fate Calls. But be patient with me as I start to use them regularly; I am just NOW learning how to use them properly, and my beta cannot catch all of the times I mess them up.**

**Thanks go to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed since last chapter. We are now over 320 reviews, 110 favorites, and 90 follows! I am really humbled to have as many readers as I do, and I thank you all. :)**

**Guest (Nexus) - I tried to get a moment of humor into that scene since it was quite serious, and it seems I succeeded.**

**I am very hard on myself when it comes to writing. I want to do the best I can do every single time, not just sometimes. So that can make me look at my work in a very negative manner. ****And Optimus riding Grimlock with a giant sword is the definition of epic.**

**Thank you for the review!**

**SunnySides - My main issue with it was that was all the chapter was - a battle. I usually try to put more into chapters besides action, but there wasn't anything besides that. I fixed that in this one.**

***Listens* Hmm. Sounds like a combination of Pendulum and Nightcall. Personally, I liked the song suggested. ****And some are weapons from the Transformers: War for Cybertron and Fall of Cybertron games, but most I make up.**

**Thanks for reviewing and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**CEGryphon - Glad you enjoy it a lot; I enjoy writing it more than I can express. And I hope you continue to enjoy it!**

**Thank you very much for reviewing.**

**Guest (chapter 20) - That would require a plot element being introduced where Starscream can suddenly see events from the past. And for a single scene, and I do not introduce plots with no reason. At one point I did, I admit, but those days are behind me.**

**Thank you for the review and I hope you read and enjoy the rest of Fate Calls and see this, but I am not going to write-in a plot element like that. Again, thank you.**

**Guest (chapter 6) - What can I say? I like rock music a lot.**

**Thanks for reviewing.**

**Guest (chapter 19) - There are two problems with that request. 1: Beast Wars ended well before I ever got into Transformers, and I cannot find episodes of it anywhere. And 2: I would need a good reason to have Shadowstreaker receive visions of another reality not related to the Prime-verse, as Beast Wars would not have a lot of purpose in the world of Fate Calls. So, thank you for the review and suggestion, but I don't see something like that happening, least not in the way you're picturing.**

****I hope you read the rest of Fate Calls so you can see this note, and thank you again for the review and suggestion.****

**Guest of chapters 1 and 2 (same reviewer) - As a writer, I can say that getting story requests is something that authors can appreciate - since it means someone wants us to use our skills to write something people want to write in our style - but they are also very difficult to write. Writers get ideas, we shape them, consider writing them, and then write them, put them to the side for the moment so we can write what we are currently working on, or discard them; having to work with someone else's idea can be more difficult than you'd expect. Your potential story is very specific in its main cast of characters, plot, setting, and themes. You've already written the story in your head, it's yours. And I already am having problems writing on my own stories. ****If you want to see that story written, why not get an account and try for yourself? Or write it without an account? You may be surprised by how creativity can flow.**

**So, thank you for the reviews and suggestions, but I must politely decline to write your story.**

**everyone and really (same reviewer) - I will freely admit that I take too long in getting updates out nowadays; I make it a point to mention how I don't like my update speed every chapter. I am sorry that I took so long you got bored enough to come back and leave a joking review. And I do like how you were trying to joke, however, text does not reveal tone voice or the look on someone's face. It very easily leads to misunderstandings, and I honestly thought you were someone who was thinking yelling at me to update was going to help the writing process, which for me is slower than I want right now. Jokes are good, but be mindful that it is difficult to carry through text. ****Also, Author Prime's reaction to your initial review is understandable due to the reason I explained above. It was a reaction to what appeared to be a demanding reader. Just explaining his reason for basically replying to you.**

**I hope this chapter is worth the wait, and that I explained everything clearly. Feel free to ask for clarification if I was not clear the first time.**

**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.**

* * *

><p><strong>July 15, 2013 5:12 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

I didn't have any time to wonder why I felt the drawing was important, since an alarm sounded from the workstation, gaining the attention of everyone in the ops center besides Wildwing, who climbed off the energon pallet and started looking around the room—it was likely he was trying to find something to climb.

Optimus stepped up behind Prowl, optics focused on the main screen. "Report."

"Sensors just detected seven Autobot life signals at the location of the main Decepticon base," Prowl answered, digits typing commands as a rapid rate. "Their readings suggest they are all weakened, but three are more injured than the rest, and two of the wounded are in critical condition."

"So they're escaped prisoners," I concluded flatly, holding back memories of my own captivity at the thought of prison, forcing myself to analyze the situation neutrally.

A solar-cycle after Arcee's family, Jazz, the twins, Smokescreen, and Flareup arrived, we had only been given our first and only opportunity to inspect the base, and Arcee and Jazz were sent inside, since they had the most experience with stealth and reconnaissance. They returned three breems later with no information on its final size or layout, but they had seen enough to know its basic technological specifications.

And nothing had sounded good.

No less than twenty anti-ship Warp Cannons, three to five-hundred anti-air turrets, over fifty Fusion Missile silos, eight gunship hangers housing at least fifteen gunship wings each, a system of automated anti-infantry missile turrets, and a shield generator usually found on a battledreadnought deterred any direct attack, and also blocked any electronic signals from entering or leaving its dome. At least one munitions factory was inside the base itself, along with a weapons testing facility, a mine on an energon vein we hadn't been able to detect that was large enough to supply more than half of the total energon all other Decepticon mines produced, and a small drone assembly plant.

A drone assembly plant. Inside a base on Earth. That meant as long as he had the proper materials, Shockwave could churn out up to ten drones every solar-cycle. It might not have been a huge number, but it added up quickly. In short, with anything less than a small fleet and army backing us up, we weren't going to get anywhere near that place.

It made sense for Shockwave's base to have a prison built inside; it was the Decepticons' most secure location besides the Nemesis. And with how I heard the others speak about Shockwave, he would have a large number of… Projects with him, and would need a place to keep them locked away. He also had a reputation for capturing Autobots and experimenting and torturing them as much as he wanted.

He sounded a lot like Scalpel.

"That is the most likely scenario," replied Optimus to my statement. "It is also possible they were being lured to Shockwave's base and did not realize their mistake until it was too late."

Cyberfrost looked up, optics wide in panic, even when Flightstorm wrapped his servos around her, his own optics dimming slightly as he likely contacted her through their bond. "Shockwave's on this planet?"

"We have yet to encounter him in the field, but his personal ship has been in the system for nearly an orbital-cycle, and we have fought troops who have mentioned him by name," Prowl said. "There is only a two point one percent chance he is not on Earth."

Wildwing's carrier didn't react more to this confirmation, but the sparkling himself finally noticed the distress she was in, likely through leaking emotions he got from her. He put his search for a place to climb on hold and jumped into her servos, his own little servos doing their best to wrap themselves around the femme like his sire's.

"Have you had a run-in with Shockwave before?" I asked.

"Yes, briefly," Flightstorm answered. "It was twelve orbital-cycles ago. We had landed the Collected on a young garden world to harvest energon from a large lake. That was when Shockwave appeared with his own vessel. He landed right next to the Collected and claimed the lake as a Decepticon resource, gave all neutrals five klicks to get back on our ship before he started shooting. We managed to get everyone back to the ship and leave the planet before Shockwave's ultimatum."

"Everyone except a friend of ours," Flightstorm's sparkmate added quietly, smiling weakly at her son and mate's efforts to comfort her.

I easily got the implication, and didn't speak further on the matter. "What's the plan, then?" I asked Optimus. "Gather everyone together and get to those Autobots before the Decepticons do?"

"Nearly everyone," replied the Prime.

"By 'Everyone,' I was meaning everyone besides me and Smokescreen," I clarified. The white and blue mech could barely walk—he was definitely staying behind.

Optimus looked at me from over his shoulder-joint, and around the Star Saber. "I was using it in the same manner."

I raised an optic ridge. "Who else is going to stay behind?"

"Our most recent arrivals—until we recover these Autobots," the Prime said. "Silverbolt and Air Raid have not adjusted to Earth's diverse climate; and I have not been given a chance to discuss Override's possible recruitment with Ironhide, Prowl, Elita, and Jazz." He glanced up at the screen again. "And it seems flight and speed will be of little use on this rescue mission."

I had come to that same conclusion regarding the mission itself, but hadn't voiced it. It was clear this mission was going to be different than any I had personally been a part of. The unique circumstances in play made sure of that.

Shockwave's base was on an island, and besides flying, the only way to get off an isolated landmass was through the water—usually by swimming or by boarding a ship, if you were human. But the problem was, the only ships Cybertronians built were made to fly in and out of atmosphere, and we couldn't swim. At _all_. Even without armor, the most lightly built Cybertronian femme was at least two and a half times as dense as water of equal volume. Also, mechs typically were about twenty-six percent denser than femmes because we tended to be made out of stronger and denser metals, not including our thicker armor.

Basically, no matter how strong a bot was, when they stepped into deep water, the only direction they were going to go was straight down until they hit something solid. After that, it essentially business as usual for us, minus use of our alt modes.

"You're going underwater?" Raf asked, bringing me out of my thoughts as he, Jack, and Miko joined Agent Fowler on the catwalk next to Prowl.

"Their readings place their location at currently four point eight kilometers below sea level, and will reach the ocean floor exactly six micro-klicks from now," said Prowl. "Reaching them through a communications channel is impossible without knowing what frequency they use. This means following them down is our only option for making contact."

"And how 'bout getting them back here once you find them?" Asked Fowler, frown starting to form on his face. He gestured to the deactivated space bridge. "That thing's not gonna work with water flooding its circuits."

"An issue we will address when the time comes," Optimus said. "Prowl, shut down the combat simulator, and contact the others—tell them to report to the ops center."

The stoic mech carried out Optimus' orders silently, typing a quick command into the workstation before his optics dimmed as he opened a universal communications channel. "All Autobots—report to the ops center immediately." He closed the channel with that simple relay of the Prime's order.

After Prowl closed the channel, Arcee opened a comm-link with me. She asked, _"What's happening in the ops center?"_

I blinked. How did she know I was in the ops center? I had only told her I was going to the med-bay when we were parting ways—_I_ hadn't even known where I would have gone after that. "_And how do you know I'm in the ops center?"_

_"Some things are for me to know, and you to wonder."_

_"You realize that sounds creepy, right?"_

_"A femme's intuition has been known to unsettle mechs."_

I resisted the urge to roll my optics. _"I find it hard to believe your intuition is what's telling you I'm in the ops center; the deductive reasoning that the ops center is a regular hangout for three other people who I need to speak to is better than a feeling you can't explain."_

_"Says the mech who has more unknown factors swirling around him than a bad mystery-vid, is referred to by a name no one can even translate, has conversations with beings with no names in his recharge, and has two near-mythical bots as his creators,"_ Arcee countered.

I went quiet for a moment at that. Well, she pretty much destroyed my argument. _"Well-played."_

_"I thought so. Seemed appropriate to use your own logic against you."_

_"Yes, yes I get it—you're proud of yourself. You going to rub it in?"_

_"That depends. Are you going to answer my original question?"_

I walked up near the workstation and looked at the main screen again, ignoring the way Jack and Miko glanced up at me before moving back to the Xbox area. So they were avoiding me, now. _"Sensors picked up seven Autobot signals near Shockwave's main base. The common theory is they're escaped prisoners."_

_"And we're going to go get them."_

_"Yes, and it looks like you're going swimming—they just hit the mark of five kilometers beneath the ocean surface,"_ I said.

_"An underwater rescue mission? Interesting. It's been a while since I was on one of those."_

_"You've been on a mission like this before?"_ I asked, a slightly surprised tone in my voice. I hadn't even heard of an underwater operation before this one. That didn't mean there hadn't been one—obviously—but it also didn't mean they were common.

_"You can add up every skirmish the humans have ever documented in their history, multiply the resulting number by ten, and they would still only account for a tiny fraction of the battles in the war on Cybertron,"_ the blue and pink femme replied. _"With a war of that size and totality, battles are going to be waged everywhere—no matter how strange the location."_

I paused briefly, considering her words for a short micro-klick before continuing the conversation, _"Sounds like there's a few stories behind that statement."_

_"More than a few, but they'll have to wait until I'm back from the mission,"_ Arcee answered. She paused for micro-klick. _"I'll be at the elevator soon-I'll see you in the ops center, Shadow'."_ She closed the link from her end.

I went back to looking at the main screen, although I was still dwelling on Arcee's earlier words. I had known how large the war on Cybertron since I became a Cybertronian: Eighty-four thousand cities destroyed by missile strikes, naval battles, bombing campaigns, and ground warfare; nearly the entire surface was rendered uninhabitable; all infrastructure, transportation, power stations, and energon harvesting plants were damaged beyond repair; and more than ninety-nine percent of Cybertron's population of two point eight trillion beings were extinguished. I hadn't discovered that last fact until after I had last seen Shadebreaker in the Pocket Universe, and decided to research the homeworld of my race after being shown images of it in its ancient glory.

Thinking about a war on that scale was impossible to imagine, and only _quantifiable_ when you knew someone who had lived through it.

Someone like Arcee.

But even then, it would take many orbital-cycles for her to tell me all the stories she had accumulated during her service. And that was if we sat down and didn't move, only going from one story to the next.

Makes me feel even younger than I am.

I looked at the door to the hallway as my fellow Autobots started to report to the ops center. Ratchet and Moonracer were the first, having been the closest to the ops center.

Ironhide, Chroma, and Elita arrived shortly after them.

Jetfire entered the ops center with Springer next, followed closely by Silverbolt and Air Raid, the last of which made a point to not even look in my direction.

Jazz, Flareup, and Bumblebee reached the ops center next, with Override tailing shortly behind; she probably was simply curious about the alert.

After they arrived, Bulkhead and Smokescreen entered, Smokescreen coming to rest against a wall so he didn't need to continue using his crutches. Both of them acted in a similar manner as Air Raid—they didn't ignore my presence entirely, but they just didn't give me a friendly glance.

The twins reported to ops center nearly half a klick later. They didn't ignore me, either—they simply glared at me before looking at Optimus like everyone else.

Arcee was, surprisingly, the last Autobot to arrive, and she came to stand next to me.

"What took you so long to get here?" I asked my courted—_t__hat was_ still was strange to me. She usually was the first to arrive when we were told to report to the ops center. Provided she was _in_ the base, of course.

"I was on the far side of the Safe, just ran the obstacle course," she answered, simply and shortly. And that was all that was required.

"Autobots, I will keep this short. Time is of the essence," Optimus began, optics gazing at all of his gathered forces. "Our sensors have detected seven Autobot life signals just outside a Decepticon base in the Indian Ocean. The little information we have of them suggests they have escaped captivity, but it is also possible they have just arrived on the planet."

"The big, rude mech wouldn't be so mad at Mister Shockwave if they just got here," Wildwing said innocently, as if we all knew what he was talking about.

All of us Autobots glanced at the mechling, who had made his statement without letting go of his carrier or looking at anyone else. His creators gave us looks similar to the ones we were giving their son, but they were silent, not interrupting Optimus' briefing like Wildwing had.

"Currently, these seven Autobots are kilometers underwater, alone, and unreachable through communications," Optimus said, continuing his earlier statement like the seekerlet had never spoken. However, I could tell by the look in his optics that he was filing away the sparkling's words for later analysis. "We are going to find and recover them before the Decepticons in the area find them first. Primarily, this mission will be a rescue operation; however, we cannot assume we will not be fighting the Decepticons while we search for our lost comrades. But, we also do not have time to outfit ourselves with weaponry recovered from the station Jetfire, Springer, and Shadowstreaker visited. Therefore, the majority of you will accompany me on this search and rescue."

"'Majority?'" Questioned Silverbolt.

The Prime turned his attention to the silver seeker. "Smokescreen's injury prevents him from operating at his full potential, and you and Air Raid shall remain here. You do not have any experience on this world, that could hinder you both severely if you were to accompany me on this mission. I cannot allow that."

Silverbolt looked to be understanding of the circumstances. Air Raid's wings twitched in annoyance, and he crossed his servos with a frustrated look on his faceplate.

Optimus turned his attention to the lone Velocitronian on base. "Override—you must also remain here. I have had no time to discuss your request with my lieutenants, and your preferred method of battle will not be possible in liquid water of such depths."

"As you wish, Optimus Prime," the red and yellow femme said with an incline of her helm. Then she walked off to the side, near the Xbox area, and said nothing else.

The Prime looked at me. "Shadowstreaker—you will operate the space bridge while we are gone."

"Acknowledged, Prime." I walked over to the workstation, let Prowl step away and stand at Optimus' right, then took the SIC's place.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw some of the bots who had stormed out of the war room exchanged moderately confused looks.

"Temporary suspension from duty," I said stated, not turning from the workstation until I had quickly familiarized myself with the computer; I hadn't used it since before the S.T.F had done a refit of the base's computer systems.

My short explanation seemed to have answered the unspoken question several of my fellow Autobots had, since they were no longer exchanging curious looks by the time I turned away from the workstation.

"Open the space bridge twenty meters above the ocean, and six kilometers east of the Autobot signals," Optimus instructed. "We do not want to attract unnecessary attention from Shockwave."

I carried out Optimus' order immediately, silently typing in the requested Latitude and Longitude, and entering the required digital coding that controlled the altitude where the space bridge would open. When I finished entering commands into the computer, I said, "Ready to open on your order, Prime."

"Open it."

I hit enter, and then turned to see the green portal open behind my fellow Autobots.

Optimus walked toward the space bridge, and I heard his battlemask deploy. "Move out."

Everyone that hadn't just arrived or were unable to accompany the Prime moved in step with Optimus, following our leader closely.

I opened another comm-link with Arcee as Optimus, Prowl, and Jazz stepped halfway into the space bridge, pausing for a moment before disappearing entirely. "_Be careful."_

_"I survived the war, Shadow', I'll be fine."_

_"I'm your courted, now. It's kind of my job to worry about your safety."_

_"Then make sure no Decepticons take us by surprise._" Arcee turned and gave me a little half-smile, then entered the space bridge with Elita and Bulkhead. They were the last ones to leave.

I watched her go with a neutral look on my faceplate, then turned back to the workstation and deactivated the space bridge. Since I had finished my training, I had accompanied Arcee on more than a hundred skirmishes and missions—mostly ones that ended up barely worth the energon to activate the space bridge. Now I wasn't going with her, wasn't watching her backplates for a Decepticon trying to flank us. It made me feel out of place and uncertain what to do.

And this could have been avoided, had I simply not sought out my Protocol.

Suppressing the guilt and memories that now went with the thought of my Protocol, I sighed and looked up at the main screen, intently watching the life signals of my fellow Autobots—both the ones I personally knew and those those I had yet to meet.

Probably was going to be looking at this screen a lot for the foreseeable future.

* * *

><p><strong>July 16, 2013 4:15 A.M<strong>

**Indian Ocean, six point four kilometers east of Decepticon base**

Optimus reached the end of the space bridge, and leaned forward enough for his chestplates and helm to break through the other side. He caught sight of Jazz and Prowl in his peripheral vision doing something similar.

Dark clouds blocked out any starlight or moonlight from above, leaving the area beyond completely black beyond a fifty meter radius of the space bridge—seemingly the only source of light for miles.

Fifteen foot seas raged beneath him, the waves crashing into each other and breaking apart to create new waves, or combining into twenty, twenty-five, or even thirty foot swells. Nothing besides water was visible within the light generated by the portal.

The Prime stepped fully through the space bridge and let himself fall into the turbulent ocean, feeling his audio receptors become muffled by the dark liquid.

Two faint, subdued splashes sounded from above Optimus as Jazz and Prowl followed him into the water. And as he continued sinking, the Prime heard the rest of his soldiers fall into the ocean, each splash growing more and more faint as he descended further and further into the sea.

He counted each impact his audio receptors picked up, silently accounting for his troops. When his count reached fifteen including Prowl and Jazz, he opened a channel with his SIC. "_How long until we reach the ocean floor?"_

_"That would depend on your definition of 'We',"_ the stoic mech replied. _"Ironhide and Bulkhead are the densest of us, and soon will pass all other Autobots and reach the sea bed well before you or I do. The majority of us are of similar density, but also different enough that there will be noticeable gaps between our arrivals. Jetfire is built for flight, and as a result he will take longer to reach the sea bed than any mech here. The femmes are the least dense of all of us, and will take the longest to land on the bottom of the sea. Accounting our numbers and our various densities, the average time required for each individual to reach the ocean floor is three klicks eleven micro-klicks; however, Ironhide and Bulkhead will finish their descent only two klicks following their entry into the water. The femmes will take four klicks and fifteen micro-klicks to make the same journey."_

Optimus silently listened to the lengthy answer, mentally comparing his SIC's response to his own calculations and finding they matched perfectly. Part of the reason he had ordered Shadowstreaker to open the space bridge far east of the Autobot signals was to account for how long it would take he and his soldiers to reach the same depth of the ones who were fleeing from Shockwave's base. The other part was to avoid the vast array of defenses installed in the facility, and to not create a portal close enough to be detected. Their own headquarters had sensors to detect both ground and space bridges, there was no reason the infamous Decepticon scientist would not.

It left them with few options for safely reaching the unknown Autobots. And also reduced the time he and his troops had to recover and heal the two Autobots who were in critical condition. It would not be the first time his Autobots offlined before he could mount a rescue.

Optimus trapped that thought before it could affect him. Thinking of the times he had failed his Autobots in the past would not help the ones that were far below him, fleeing for their lives. He had to focus on them, not the ones who now lived at Primus' side.

With his resolve in check, and his calculations confirmed by his inquiry to Prowl, the Prime finally acknowledged his SIC's statement, closed the channel, at last let his optics do what they could to adjust to the darkness that had surrounded him since he left the space bridge. He looked down into the black that he was sinking into, silently accepting the wait ahead of he and his team.

Until they arrived at the ocean floor, that is all they would be doing.

* * *

><p>Shockwave walked along the floor of the bottom level of Base Zetta-3, moving through the hallways toward Crawler's current location—where a section of the base's wall had been destroyed.<p>

The entire level, including both of his laboratories, was flooded with more than ten feet of seawater. Shockwave's height left him mostly unhampered by the water's presence, but most drones and full Decepticons were already having difficulties moving at their typical pace because of the flooding. Damage to electronic systems was minimal, however; but, the scientist cared little about how many computers would or would not need repairs.

He only cared about the Autobots who had broken free from his lab.

Shockwave rounded the last corner he needed to turn to reach Crawler's hallway, sending two drones several steps back and to the side when they saw they had been in his way.

Crawler was overseeing the makeshift repair of the section of wall which had been destroyed—the source of the water flooding the level. It had been a very impressively-sized breach before a group of engineers were able to block it with several metal plates that were to be installed on the walls further down the same hallway. If they had not closed the hole, it most certainly would have completely submerged the entire level.

The Decepticon lieutenant turned to Shockwave as his commander approached. His frame language was strict and professional, and the look on his faceplate was neutral. His optics, however, revealed his apprehension at facing the scientist. "Commander." His voice held a forced calm.

"Report, Lieutenant."

Crawler looked over at the team of Decepticons welding additional metal plates alongside the ones they initially plugged the hole with. "Breach is sealed, sir. It'll need to be repaired from the other side as well, but it will hold for now."

"I was not aware this section had a structural weakness." Shockwave's tone gave nothing that told the lieutenant what he was thinking.

"I didn't know the hallway was so close to the ocean either, sir," said Crawler, quickly. It was the honest truth. The engineers had never given an indication that any part of the base was vulnerable. "It's a mistake I'll make sure is corrected within the breem."

Shockwave's single optic fell on the engineers, who fidgeted in fright when they met his gaze for any period of time. "And the Autobots?"

Crawler's wings twitched. "It… It looks like they blasted through the wall and used the sea beyond to escape. They're nowhere to be found."

"And whose fault is that, Lieutenant?"

A servo suddenly shot out, so fast Crawler had no time to react, and the lieutenant screamed and fell to his knee-joints as digits locked onto his right optic. The other Decepticons halted their work to look on the scene in fear.

"Whose fault _is that_, Lieutenant?" Repeated Shockwave in an unnervingly patient tone.

Crawler's screams intensified as the scientist twisted the smaller Decepticon's optic an inch counterclockwise.

"Well? Whose fault is it?"

"IT'S MINE! _MINE!_"

Crawler's optic turned another inch counterclockwise.

"Is it? How? How could it be your fault? Did you show them another exit?"

"No. I—AH!" The smaller Decepticon was prevented from properly answering as his optic was twisted two more inches, and the servo that held his optic tugged out. The movement had no strength behind it, but it redoubled his suffering.

"No? Did you help them escape?"

The lieutenant's optic went three more inches counterclockwise and was tugged, snapping multiple lines and cables that connected his optic to his processor, and pulling the optic two inches out of Crawler's helm; his screams echoed down the hallway, and he grabbed the larger mech's servo, as if he had the strength to keep Shockwave from turning his optic any further.

"Did you fail to activate the Purge?"

"Y-Yes…" Crawler's words came out quietly, but not because he wasn't in pain. He simply was running out of strength to open his mouth.

Shockwave turned the lieutenant's optic an inch clockwise, lessening his pain. "I could not hear you. What did you say?"

"Yes."

The optic went back counterclockwise. "Yes what, Lieutenant?"

"I failed."

The scientist turned Crawler's optic two inches in the opposite direction. "What did you fail?"

"I FAILED TO ACTIVATE THE PURGE!" Cried the smaller Decepticon, using the last of his strength to yell out his statement.

Shockwave turned Crawler's optic all the way back to its proper position, then bluntly hit the optic back so it returned to being fully in the smaller mech's helm.

The lieutenant fell back, covering his optic with both servos and continuing to cry out in pain. While crude, Shockwave's treatment was technically the same as a medic would have given—only far less gentle. There were hundreds of thousands of parts in the optic, and all of them were important and sensitive to touch. True medics would prolong the repairs of an optic for this reason.

But Shockwave did not care, especially when the mech he had treated had failed him. In time, Crawler's auto-repair systems would restore his optic to its previous state.

It wouldn't, however, be a painless process.

The scientist took a step forward so he was standing directly over the smaller Decepticon. "The next time you fail me, I _will_ take out that optic. The next time, I will take the other. And the third time, you will not live through my punishment," he said emotionlessly. He looked up at the other Decepticons in the hallway, who had yet to utter a sound since Shockwave first grabbed Crawler's optic. Then he just stared at them.

All the Decepticons returned to their work, unable to meet the single optic of their commander—they didn't want to inadvertently challenge the silent command he was giving them.

Shockwave turned and began walking back the way he had come, heading for his next destination: The gunship hangers.

_"Skycharger,"_ the scientist said through a communications channel he quickly established with the officer in charge of the hangers. _"Prepare the gunships. We are going hunting."_

* * *

><p><strong>July 16, 2013 4:17 A.M<strong>

**USS Michael Murphy, Indian Ocean, four-hundred seventeen miles northeast of Madagascar**

Commander James L. Ford IV analyzed the Michael Murphy's course heading on the conn, mentally comparing it to course he had set nearly six and a half hours ago. It wasn't his or the navigator's job to operate the conn, but he liked to make sure where his ship was going.

Ford was a short man by most definitions at five feet six inches, but he had a stocky build and could take on a man who had a foot of height on him. His steel eyes were experienced and weathered like the man they belonged to, and had seen more ocean than land in their time. Ford's head was totally bald, and had been for as long as he could remember—even as a child of six.

The commander was tenth-generation Navy, and the fifth man in his family to bear the name, 'James L. Ford.'

The original 'James L. Ford' was a Continental Navy sailor during the Revolutionary War. He had been a Seaman on the USS Boston, and survived the treatment aboard the infamous HMS Jersey when he was a prisoner of war after the Boston's capture. He died fifteen years after the war ended, near the turn of the century.

James' great-grandfather was given their ancestor's name on his birth, and served in World War I as a Petty Officer Second Class onboard the Delaware-class dreadnought North Dakota.

Ford's grandfather passed his name onto his third son—the commander's grandfather, James L. Ford, JR.—and he served on the Enterprise during World War II as an Ensign. He served until October 26, 1942, when he lost a leg when 'The Big E' was bombarded during the Battle of Santa Cruz Islands

James, JR. then passed his name to his first and only son, and he served in numerous wars and operations for more than four decades before retiring a mere eleven years ago. He had been a full Admiral when he finally left the Navy, and one of the most heavily decorated, tactically brilliant, and longest-serving officers in US Navy history, at least according to historians and analysts. Now, he had a seat in the Senate for the Republican Party, and was rising in the political world.

Then there was Ford. The son of the great, 'Artist of Naval Warfare,' his father. The descendant of a man who fought in World War I. The grandson of a brave man who sacrificed a limb in the service of fighting against the Axis Powers of World War II. The next in an unbroken line of sailors dating back to the beginning of the only current superpower on Earth.

The thirty-eight year-old bald full Commander whose name was known to no one outside his ship and those higher up the chain of command.

He had never been involved in a memorable event in history, never had his name mentioned in a news story, and never had been more than average at anything in his life. Most would see this as a sign they were failing at their careers; Ford saw it as a sign he was doing his job properly.

James kept studying the course readings, checking his ship's Latitude, Longitude, and speed multiple times over. No matter how many times he ran the data through his head, he got the same result.

At some point in the last six and a half hours, they had veered off course at least nine degrees.

"Ensign Davis, why are we off course?" Ford asked .

The Ensign Edward 'Ed' Davis was slightly taller than Ford at five foot eight. He had short, light hair, silver-blue eyes, and tan skin. His build was slimmer than Ford's, but he was no weakling. Davis was also one of the least experienced member of the crew, only commissioned within the last month. He was still getting on-the-job navigation training from Ford's XO.

Davis looked at the Commander. "Excuse me, sir?"

"We're off course," said James. He gestured for Ed to join him at the conn. When the junior officer did, James said, "By these readings, we've been nine degrees to the port side. XO Williams has been unable to perform his duties the last day due to a fractured leg, and I've been getting rack time the last six hours. You had the bridge during that time. Explain how and why we are now off course."

Ed looked at the course data, and compared it to the notes he had taken. "I don't, ah, I don't know." To himself, he added, "That can't be right. I double-checked everything…"

"Oh, you don't know?" Asked Ford incredulously. "How about this: Do you know the top speed of an Arleigh Burke-class guided missile destroyer? It's thirty knots. Do you know what our speed has been the last six hours? Thirty knots. And do you know how far south we could have gotten in that time? About nineteen and a half nautical miles." His steel eyes stared into Davis' silver-blue ones. "Tell me, Ensign—how can we be effective at searching for the MV Sea Dog when we're ten miles out of the search zone?"

The MV Sea Dog was a missing container ship that had been caught in Tropical Cyclone Ama, a storm that developed and became a full cyclone in a mere forty-eight hours, and dissipated twenty-five hours ago. The Sea Dog hadn't been seen or heard from since. The USS Michael Murphy and USS Halsey were two of the ships sent to search for the missing container ship, and the first to arrive in the area since they had been deployed to Diego Garcia.

"Not effective, sir," Davis replied, his tone accepting of the fact he had made a mistake, and was now paying for it. But within his own mind, he was running over everything he had done six hours previously to try and see what he did wrong.

"You're damn right we won't be effective. Fix your error, and share the correct course with the helmsman," Ford ordered, then stepped back from the conn and let the Ensign operate it. His tone had likely given Edward flashbacks of being chewed out by instructors during training, but James had to drill seriousness into the younger man; it was the only way he would learn to always double-check all of his calculations.

The Commander walked to the side, looking out at the dark ocean and sky through one of the bridge's small windows, watching for signs of a life raft strobe light. The seas were rough tonight and coming down from the north; there was a chance the waves had propelled a raft from the Sea Dog this far south.

A very slim chance, but Ford had seen it happen before in his twenty years of service in the Navy.

The Michael Murphy's Sonar Technician, a young, petite, red-haired woman named Janette Smith, turned Ford from his thoughts by taking off her headset and saying, "Commander—I have something on sonar."

James gave the Petty Officer Third Class his full attention, along with half of the bridge crew. "Bearing?"

"South," Petty Officer Smith replied. "That's about all I can say. The sound seems to be originating beyond sonar's normal range."

Now Ford was confused, and it showed on his face. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"Distance estimates are limited to a system's operational range, and everything I'm hearing is telling me it's beyond the typical range of sonar," answered Janette.

"Then how are you picking something up?" Ed asked, the new development a welcome distraction from adjusting the Michael Murphy's course.

"Well, it's… It's loud. Really loud. Loud enough for sonar to pick it up beyond its effective range." Smith placed her headset back on for a moment, and removed it just as quickly. "My estimate on the volume is about one-hundred decibels. That's way louder than anything within range of a destroyer would want to make if it was trying to stay hidden—especially for a sustained period of time."

"A Blue Whale, then?" asked Ford.

Blue Whales were the loudest animals on the planet, able to produce low-frequency pulses up to one-hundred and eighty-eight decibels. These pulses, though almost too low for human ears to pick up, could be heard from hundreds of miles away on sonar. It was common for ships to pick up such calls when in the same ocean as the massive creatures. And the Indian Ocean was home to some of the last groups of Blue Whales in the world.

Janette shook her head. "No, sir. I've heard a Blue Whale before, and it sounds nothing like this. What I'm getting is… Odd. It sounds like a compartment being flooded."

James' eyebrows furled. Ironically, rapidly flowing water wasn't heard in the open ocean—there was no place else for the water to move. The fact Smith was hearing this unusual sound could mean another vessel, friendly or not, was taking on water. Yet this conclusion was not logical. The Michael Murphy was listening to all commercial channels for the MV Sea Dog, and they were getting no distress messages. In fact, there were no other ships, commercial or military, for nearly a hundred nautical miles; Command would have warned them if a warship from another nation was in the area.

So what was the sound's source?

The Commander wanted to suppress his curiosity, his desire to search for something he could not make sense of. But in the end, he gave into it. "Ensign Davis—change of plans, turn us south. We're investigating the Petty Officer's sonar anomaly."

"Yes, sir," acknowledged Ed, then quickly plotted a course directly south of their location and rattled off their new heading to the helmsman.

No one else on the bridge needed to be told what to do. They knew their superior well, and trusted his judgement absolutely. They carried out their required tasks without question.

Within only a few seconds of Ford's new order, the Arleigh Burke-class destroyer banked to its starboard, and traveled south at thirty knots—they were now moving with the sea.

None onboard knew Commander James H. Ford IV had just sealed the fate of the Michael Murphy and its crew.

* * *

><p>I continued looking up at the mainscreen, resisting the urge to anxiously drum my digits against the workstation.<p>

The life signals of my fellow Autobots were being displayed on the main screen, along with the signals of the other Autobots my comrades had gone to rescue. They were at the ocean floor, if the computer was correct, and moving west at a slow pace. The other Autobots had reached the bottom of the sea long before Optimus and my comrades, and were moving closer to northeast then simply east; they also were moving at a significantly faster pace than my comrades. The two groups of Autobots—known and familiar, and those whose identity were a mystery—were about four kilometers apart, but were closing the distance between each other fairly quickly. By my estimate, they would meet in about three klicks.

If the Decepticons didn't meet them first.

There was still no sign of Shockwave deploying troops to intercept the Autobots who escaped his base—if they had indeed been prisoners. The lack of activity from Shockwave was unusual, and even eerie. There were Autobots on his porch. Not only that, but if our sensors could pick them up without placing beacons in their armor, then their life signals had only the mandatory tracking chips all Autobots were given upon their enlistment. Those chips had been partially compromised in the middle of the war—any Cybertronian sensor could detect them. The Decepticons likely couldn't pinpoint their location, but they would definitely know there were unmasked Autobot signals in their area.

Shockwave had seven Autobots right outside his door. All of them were injured in some fashion. All of them were moving at a slow pace, because of the combination of their injuries and their location. And Shockwave could detect all of them with his sensors. He must know those Autobots are nearby.

So where were the Decepticons? Where was Shockwave? Why was there no activity from the Decepticons? With how close that base was, the lack of movement was more unsettling than seeing a ship appear on the scanners.

It made me an unnerved mech. And a _very_ agitated courted, with Arcee involved and not being able to be with her. Watching her. Protecting her. Acting as her bullet shield.

I buried my thoughts before they could distract me. Arcee literally had millions of times more experience in war than I did. She may have gotten into a few situations where I had to help her, but I had gotten into half a dozen times as many where _she_ had to help _me_. She didn't need me to watch her backplates. She didn't need me to protect her. She could take care of herself. Plus, she had fifteen other Autobots to rely on. She was safer than I was, at the moment. There was no logical reason for me to worry about her so much.

Of course, matters of the spark were rarely logical.

"Any sign of the 'Cons?" Fowler asked, pacing on the catwalk next to me. Raf was near him, silently observing. Override, Silverbolt, Air Raid, and Smokescreen were still present, as well. Jack and Miko were still near the Xbox area.

"None," I replied, and pointed out, "If there was, I would have said something."

The government agent grunted. "I don't like this quiet," he said, not addressing the second part of my statement. "The 'Cons are never silent when you 'Bots are out and about. What are they waiting for?"

The answer to the question ringing in both my helm and Fowler's head, was answered not three micro-klicks after the government agent spoke.

An alarm, different than the one that signaled the appearance of the unknown Autobots, sounded out from the workstation, drawing the attention of everyone besides Fowler and I. A red circle formed on the main screen. It was west of my comrades, and just outside the shield surrounding Shockwave's base. Even without analyzing the signal, I could tell it was from a Decepticon gunship, since gunships typically weren't given more than basic stealth treatment by either Autobots or Decepticons; such simple stealth systems were only partially effective against modern sensors. It was probably a LSC-11 Techraptor, the same type of gunship that crippled Jetfire and Springer on the Paraion station—and almost crippled me.

"Decepticons have appeared." I entered a command into the workstation that brought up more information about the hostile energy signal. After looking at the readout for about a nano-klick, much faster than Fowler or Raf could possibly read, I determined the signal wasn't a Techraptor like I had assumed. It was a HAC-177, the much larger, more heavily armored, and extensively armed cousin of the Techraptor. In battle, it was typically used as a mobile command center for ground attacks.

That could be a bad sign.

"One gunship, command class," I informed the others, simultaneously trying to set up a universal communications channel with Optimus and everyone else who was with him, but quickly failing when the computer refused to connect. Their close proximity to Shockwave's base was probably causing interference; I should have created a channel while they were still in the base. "Estimated speed is around three-hundred kilometers per breem."

"That slow?" Asked Override, no hint of humor in her words.

"That's… A lot less of a response than I was expecting from the Decepticons," Agent Fowler said. "When was the last time you Autobots had them outnumbered on a mission?"

Never, we _never_ did.

Another alarm sounded from the workstation, and an entire wing of Techraptors appeared on the sensors. A second wing appeared after the first, then another, and another, and another.

Within a few micro-klicks, thirty wings of gunships were on the sensors, spreading out in all directions around the Decepticon base. _Thirty_ wings. There were twenty gunships in a wing.

_Six-hundred_ gunships were now out there. Each standard Techraptor could carry up to ten drones along with a pilot and gunner. That came out to six-thousand troops, assuming each was filled to capacity—about seven times as many soldiers as we estimated the Dark Matter originally transported Earth.

Even worse, our sensors couldn't detect smaller Decepticon signals that far away. There could be pair of Brute Seekers for every gunship on screen, and we would have no idea.

"Primus…" Silverbolt said, echoing my exact thought.

"That's a damned army," added Fowler quietly.

"It's several, compared to anything else the 'Cons have deployed," Raf said, his voice barely a whisper. He was scared, terrified, even.

And he wasn't the only one.

Arcee was out there, in the path of scores of gunships. No matter how much skill a bot had, no matter how much experience in battle, gunships were gunships, and numbers were numbers. A single gunship possessed the firepower of a company of soldiers. And in the numbers they were currently deployed, those gunships could take down a battledreadnought.

I had to warn Arcee and the others.

I blocked out the words of the people and bots around me, and redoubled my efforts to establish a universal communications channel with the group who left the base ten klicks ago.

It was all I could do from here.

* * *

><p>Shockwave stood on his HAC-177, just behind the heavy gunship's pilot and two gunners. Two score of drones were in the troop bay beyond the door behind him.<p>

It had taken one klick and fifty-seven micro-klicks for Skycharger to prepare the gunships Shockwave requested. Another four klicks and ten micro-klicks had been required for the pilots and gunners to get to their aircraft and run through their checklists of pre-flight tests. An additional three klicks were needed for the drones to fill the troop bays of all gunships Shockwave had called for; the only reason so many were able to board in so short a time was because Shockwave had a brigade of drones posted in each hanger for sole purpose of rapid deployment into battle.

Now his force was leaving Base Zetta-3 through its immense hanger doors—fifty meter-thick walls of solid Xieron disguised as rock from the outside. Each door was five-hundred meters wide, and a quarter as tall. The bottom of the hanger doors were a mere ten feet above the waves outside the base.

Shockwave opened a communications channel to the commanders of the wings of gunships, and the leaders of seekers and Insecticons who flew between the larger aircraft._ "Decepticon forces—search everything within a fifty mile radius of the base. I want every anomaly investigated, every rock, trench, and crater on the seabed explored. If you make contact with the Autobots, shoot to offline, but do not destroy their frames—I want them intact. Proceed to your assigned coordinates and dive. Do not attempt to contact me unless you have confirmed sighting of our targets." _He closed the channel without waiting for any acknowledgements. He spoke, they heard. Unneeded speech wasted time that could be spent searching for the Autobots.

Searching for _him_.

Grimlock was by far the most successful experiment Shockwave had conducted—and also the most dangerous. The scientist spent jours designing the Dinobot leader's new form, armor, and abilities. Orbital-cycles of work went into his transformation. Every surgery had taken breems, sometimes solar-cycles, to complete; they had been art, and art could not be rushed. Shockwave had put too many resources into Grimlock to allow the Dinobot leader's frame to slip from his remaining digits.

Shockwave's HAC was the first gunship to leave the hanger, and after it reached its top atmospheric speed and past through the shield covering Base Zetta-3, Skycharger, who was piloting the HAC,said, "Sir, scanners are picking up a human warship."

"Where is it located, Major?" Asked Shockwave, taking two long steps forward and standing behind the black, red flame-trimmed mech. Custom paint, a common feature among pilots, and one Shockwave allowed them to make. As long as they were useful.

"About sixty miles north," Skycharger answered.

"Class and nationality?"

"Unknown. I haven't researched human vessels, or their politics." The pilot tapped a display next to his seat without taking his other servo form the HAC controls. "If it helps, the vessel is approximately one-hundred and fifty-five meters in length, and is displacing ninety-two hundred tons."

Shockwave compared Skycharger's report to the dimensions of human naval ships, and found that the most likely match was an Arleigh Burke-class destroyer. It was a warship designed around a radar combat system that allowed it to guide its main armament, cruise missiles, to their chosen targets. Only the United States currently used the vessels in its naval fleets.

"What is the vessel's heading?" Shockwave asked after confirming the class of ship on sensors.

"Straight toward the base," replied Skycharger.

"Then it cannot be allowed to continue on its course," said the scientist. "Adjust our flight path and intercept that ship."

"Yes, sir." Skycharger immediately turned the hundred and ten meter-long gunship further north, toward the US warship. The HAC's four escorting Techraptors followed far behind.

Shockwave remained standing behind the pilot, silently waiting for Skycharger to move their heavy gunship to the human vessel. It was regrettable that the humans had come so far south of their usual patrols and shipping lanes—they were distracting Shockwave from hunting the Dinobots.

But at least the gunners of the HAC would get some target practice when they came upon the human ship.

* * *

><p>Ultra Magnus struggled to see in the darkness bathing the surroundings he and the others. It seemed to be the night-cycle of this planet, but even if it had been during the peak of its solar-cycle, light did not penetrate liquid water that was more than a kilometer in depth. They were well over a kilometer down; they had traveled more than a kilometer during their descent alone. Now their only guidance were the low-powered spot lights installed in Sludge's shoulder-joints, and those only allowed their darkness-adjusted optics to see fifty meters ahead of them. Beyond that, everything was black.<p>

Magnus fell back from his position next to the limping Grimlock—and the gravely injured Slug, who he still carried—and came alongside Sludge and Swoop. The former still had Broadside in his servos, and the latter was in the middle of treating the huge Wrecker again. _"How is he doing?"_ He asked through a communications channel he had established with the Dinobots who were still standing.

_"No good,"_ reported Swoop as he balanced on one of Sludge's servos. _"Bad bug focused, really want to eat him Broadside's spark!"_

_"Is there anything else you can do for him?"_ Asked Magnus.

_"Helped to me Swoop's end. Me Swoop good, but no have right tools."_ He looked down at the Wrecker commander moving at the same pace as Sludge. _"He have half breem before bug eat spark, maybe little more, but me can do no more. Me Swoop need focus on Slug, now!"_ He jumped off Sludge's servo, covering more distance than he normally would because of their location underwater. He then climbed up Grimlock so he could treat Slug again, whose frame was still leaking energon that sank to the ground since it was denser than water.

Ultra Magnus silently cursed. Broadside had been a loyal Wrecker since the start of the war. He had defeated whole squads of Decepticons by himself, taken down destroyers without help. Out of all of his Wreckers, Magnus considered him to have the most physical strength and firepower of them all, with Ironhide coming in a close second. And now, Broadside was being defeated by an opponent he could not fight: A parasite. It was an unfitting fight for such a warrior.

But that was war.

Magnus and the other Autobots kept running as fast as the crushing water around them allowed them to. It didn't matter that they didn't know where they were, what world they were on, or if there was an Autobot presence on the planet—anything was better than remaining in Shockwave's captivity.

The Wrecker commander's audio receptors began to pick up faint, muffled splashes from far above and behind them. Each splash was accompanied by a ripple of a concussive wave that traveled through the water above them.

The Decepticons had started their pursuit.

_"What that?"_ Snarl asked, looking up as if he would see the source of the noise.

_"Decepticons,"_ Ultra Magnus answered. _"It was only a matter of time before Shockwave gathered a search party; he wants us back badly."_

_"Then we make sure he no find us,"_ said Grimlock, his voice growling and grinding even through the channel. He looked to left, optics searching and analyzing the darkness beyond the range of Sludge's spotlights. _"What on the left, Sludge?"_

Sludge swiveled one of his spotlights where his leader's gaze was fixed, revealing that the seabed fell away abruptly about three meters within the now-longer range of his spotlights. How Grimlock had seen the end of the ocean floor without the full assistance of Sludge's lights, Ultra Magnus did not know.

_"It looks like a trench, perhaps a large crater,"_ Magnus observed. _"What are you thinking, Grimlock?"_

_"Me thinking we need deeper water."_ Without another word, Grimlock turned almost a full ninety degrees, and disappeared below the edge of the deeper water just as Ultra Magnus and the others came to a halt. He took Swoop with him, since the smaller Dinobot had not even looked up from his treatment of Slug.

Snarl immediately went after Grimlock, and Sludge offered Magnus a servo as the other Dinobot went beyond the range of the light. It was a kind offer, considering he was already carrying a mech less than twenty feet shorter than himself.

Magnus grabbed the edge of a piece of the larger mech's shoulder-joint armor, and stood on Sludge's upper servo. He was not as dense as the Dinobots. If edge in front of them was deep, he would most certainly be left behind by the combination of Grimlock's habit of moving at his pace and his general dislike of other Cybertronians.

Sludge ran forward once Ultra Magnus secured himself, and he jumped off the edge and quickly caught up with the less-dense Snarl, who grabbed onto Sludge's other shoulder-joint.

Together, they followed Grimlock into the black ocean for the second time in less than half a breem.

* * *

><p>I watched the progress bar on my latest attempt to establish a communications channel with Optimus and the others stall thirty percent of the way through the process. That was the fifth method to fail in less than a klick. Fragging thing wouldn't work.<p>

"What's taking so long?" Agent Fowler asked, his arms crossed.

"I'm getting interference from an unknown source," I said calmly, technically correct since I didn't know if Shockwave's base was preventing me from contacting the others. "I'm still trying to work around it."

"I can help," Raf said. His voice lacked enthusiasm or a lot of emotion except for sadness, but the look in his eyes said he genuinely wanted to help. And he should have. His friends were out there, too.

I gestured to human computer next to Fowler, along with Jack and Miko; they had rejoined us after seeing the massive amount of gunships heading toward my comrades. Toward Arcee. "Log on, then. Any help you can provide is appreciated."

The government agent stepped back as the youngest human on base ran past him and turned on the computer, fingers flying across the keyboard almost before he had even sat down. "Is it a jammer?" He asked.

"No. If it was, more than just our communications would be effected," I said, glancing up at the mainscreen as Decepticon signals started to disappear from our sensors. They were going underwater. It made sense, logically, considering Techraptor engines were powerful enough to propel themselves through the water. Only the largest seekers could use their alt modes in an environment like that. That meant any Cybertronians who were fleeing the Decepticons would automatically be at a disadvantage without gunships of their own.

Just like how my fellow Autobots lacked a gunship.

"Perhaps it is a localized anomaly?" Override asked.

"They're too close to the Decepticon base," Raf informed suddenly, confirming my earlier suspicion. "It's giving off static that's effecting our systems."

Jack looked over the younger boy's shoulder. "Can you get through it?" He asked, voice neutral and professional. It was almost an Optimus-like tone.

"Of course," Raf said. His fingers flew across the keyboard again, and once he finished typing a series of commands, he looked at me. "Try creating a channel again."

I did as he said, and the progress bar went across the mainscreen without issue, completing the process of establishing a communications channel in less than five micro-klicks. Whatever Raf did, it certainly worked. I'm going to have to learn more computer skills, since I will likely be on space bridge duty far more than before.

There was no time now, of course.

Silently thanking Raf's computer abilities—which made up for my own, current inexperience—I addressed Optimus through the universal channel I had just created, speaking into a microphone in the workstation for the benefit of the humans, "Optimus—be advised, the Decepticons have deployed multiple wings of gunships in your area. You're going to have a lot of company soon."

* * *

><p><em>"Understood,"<em> Optimus said to the black Triple-Changer, then muted the new channel for the moment. His attention was focused on the sound originating from above them—the sound of a large amount of metal impacting water at a high speed.

On the outside, Optimus was the picture of calm: His optics were relaxed, his walk was precise, and his voice was composed. Only his shoulder-joints had any trace of tensity, but no more than they normally were on a mission.

A number of the other Autobots with him, however, were not.

_"Six-hundred gunships?"_ Jazz asked through another channel, which the group established between each other once they reached the ocean floor. _"Dat's enough ta take out a small fleet."_ His visor flashed with humor, illuminated by the lights of Bulkhead next to him, as well as his own. _"Ah'm flattered da 'Cons find me such a threat. 'Bout time Ah get some recognition for my work."_

_"I don't think Shockwave sent all those gunships after only you, Jazz,"_ said Bulkhead, lacking his usual buoyant tone as he helped guide the path for his fellow Autobots to walk.

_"Ya never know, Bulk'."_

"Enough," Optimus said firmly, switching to the local channel. _"We need to shift our position—gunship fire will be the end of us if we spread ourselves too thin. Regroup on me."_

The four groups of four they had divided themselves into upon landing on the seabed soon started to become one on Optimus' order, continuing to move forward at the same time.

Prowl's group, with Springer as their primary source of light and the twins following behind, were the first to join the group of Arcee, Bumblebee, and Flareup, who Optimus was leading.

Elita's group of Chromia, Ratchet, and Ironhide added their numbers and lights to the main squad shortly after.

Jazz's group made of up of Jetfire, Moonracer, and Bulkhead were the final group to join Optimus, since they had wandered slightly further away than the other groups.

_"Autobots—deploy your weapons and get behind me; I will guide us forward. Bulkhead, Ironhide—guard our flanks. Springer—you are on rear security with the twins,"_ Optimus ordered calmly, at the same time deploying one of his blasters and pulling the Star Saber from his backplates.

The sword immediately started radiating its own blue light that was almost bright enough to reveal the way ahead on its own, without assistance from any of their headlights—or spotlights, in the case of Jetfire and Springer. Optimus felt something inside him pulse powerfully as he held the ancient blade, as he always did when the sword was in his servo. It enhanced his sense of duty, justice, his ability to give compassion, his will to fight, and his strength. It truly was a creation of the Ancients, of Solus Prime.

If he ever had the honor of speaking to Shadowstreaker's carrier, Optimus would need to praise Solus' ability to create an object that channeled a Prime's very being.

The Prime waited for his troops to arrange themselves as he had instructed. Once they did, he returned to the channel with their base, and spoke to Shadowstreaker again, _"What is the latest from our lost Autobots?"_

* * *

><p>I waited for Optimus to speak again after his short acknowledgement of my words. He had sounded calm when I told him an army of Decepticons was heading toward him, but to be fair, I had never seen him nervous about anything—even during the ambush that led to my capture by the Paraions.<p>

To my time as Scalpel's captive.

I was saved from starting down the path of thinking about my time as the Paraions' captive as Optimus broke his silence, _"What is the latest from our lost Autobots?"_

My optics flicked to the mainscreen. The other Autobots had changed their path, and now moving straight north and at a slower pace than before. The reason their pace had slowed was quickly apparent after observing the screen for a moment: They were moving into deeper water.

I quickly told the computer to run a more detailed scan of the area of the ocean floor near the unknown Autobots. It took only a micro-klick for the scan to finish, revealing the presence of a fourteen kilometer-wide, two kilometer-deep, circular crater that seemed to be currently undiscovered by human science, since I found no mention of it in any oceanographic data centers I quickly went through on the internet. The unknown group of Autobots had just reached the crater's far southwestern edge, and were about to finish the initial descent to the crater's gradual decline that led to its center.

"They have found a large crater on the seabed, and are descending into its deeper waters," I answered Optimus' question.

_"Where is the crater located compared to our current location?"_

"About one and a half kilometers due north of you position," I replied. "However, the crater is large; you'll still be about three kilometers east of the other Autobots when you arrive at the edge."

_"Acknowledged, Shadowstreaker,"_ said the Prime. _"Update us on their location once we reach the crater. Until then, I want this channel clear unless you have further news on either our lost Autobots, or the Decepticons."_

"Yes, sir," I said, and muted the microphone without hesitating, even though I had reservations about doing so. I was in a position to provide Optimus and the others constant updates on the location of the Autobots they were searching for; I could potentially walk my comrades right in front of the Autobots they were after.

But no matter how accurately I could track the other group of Autobots, it didn't matter if Optimus' group were attacked.

The Prime's order was rational. Our sensors couldn't track unfriendly gunship signatures when the craft itself was obscured by any type of object—even something as simple as water, as shown by the signals that were rapidly disappearing from the mainscreen. If I couldn't track the gunships, then Optimus and the others would need to keep their optics open for any sign of the Decepticons. My constant updates on the location of the unknown Autobots would distract my comrades from their surroundings, and could lead to someone missing the flash of a gunship's search lights, or delay them in reacting to a missile fired on their position. In short, without the ability to track the Decepticons underwater, I was a distraction.

A distraction who _really_ wished he was out in the field with his courted right now.

* * *

><p>Ford's steel eyes searched the early morning sea and sky, continuing to watch for signs of unnatural light as the Michael Murphy cruised south at more than thirty knots—surged forward by the surging ocean. Even though he and his crew were shifting their focus primarily to investigate the sonar anomaly picked up by Petty Officer Smith—which she had lost only a few minutes into their new heading—James was unwilling to totally abandon searching for the Sea Dog. If he missed the lost vessel's life raft because he was now chasing an unknown sound, he would never forgive himself. His conscience wouldn't allow it.<p>

"I have something on sonar," Janette informed, addressing the entire bridge. She paused for a moment, then added, "Scratch that, it's gone."

"Was it the same anomaly as before?" Asked James.

"Negative, Commander," Smith replied. "It seemed different, more concussive, like a giant anvil hitting the surface of the water. I think we just picked up sonar anomaly number two."

The Commander frowned at the news. 'As if one unknown wasn't enough.'

"Did this one have a bearing?" Ford asked.

"Straight ahead of us. No idea on the range."

"Couldn't get its distance, like the other one?"

"No, sir."

"Then keep listening, Petty Officer." Ford turned to one the Michael Murphy' radar operators. "Picking up anything, Zeke?" With their current pursuit a dead end, all Ford could do was check in with the various operators on the bridge.

Petty Officer First Class Paul Zeke, a bear of a man at six feet ten inches, shook his head. "Negative. The sky's as empty it can get."

"Good," was all Ford said, then he moved onto Petty Officer Second Class Romero, a tall woman of Brazilian origin who immigrated to the United States when she was three. She operated the ship's communications. "Anything from Command or the commercial channels?"

"No, Commander," Petty Officer Maria Romero replied. "We haven't received anything since we alerted Command of our change of course, and the commercial frequencies have been silent since we left Diego Garcia."

"Alert me if you pick up anything," said James. He moved away from Romero, and stood next to Ensign Davis.

The Commander was about to ask for an update on their heading, when Janette spoke, "I got it again! This time I have a bead on it."

Ford focused on Smith instantly. "Bearing and range."

"Straight ahead like before, fifteen nautical miles out," A confused look appeared on Janette's face as she answered Ford's question. "Hold on, I'm picking it up again. Five degrees starboard, sixteen miles out."

"Well, where is it, Petty Officer?" James asked. "Straight ahead, or five degrees starboard?"

Smith ignored her superior. "Got it again. Five degrees to port, thirteen miles. And a fourth time, ten degrees starboard, ten miles out." Her face became puzzled. "Three more just appeared in the last second, and the first one has changed. Now it sounds like… A jet? An engine?"

A pit suddenly formed in the pit of Ford's stomach, and the hair on his neck stood on end. Every instinct was starting to yell at him that something was wrong with their situation. Something was _very_ _wrong._ "What are we dealing with, Petty Officer?"

Janette looked at Ford. "I have no idea."

"Contact!" Zeke cried out. "Low-altitude cruise missile incoming, twenty-thousand meters and closing! Altitude ten-thousand feet and dropping, twenty degrees to port!"

James immediately activated the intercom, at the same activating the ship's deafening alarm. "Missile inbound, all hands to Battle Stations! Repeat, all hands to Battle Stations!" He flipped off the intercom, and rapidly fired off orders to the bridge crew, "Communications—contact Command and tell them we're under attack. Helm—take evasive action. Damage Control—prepare for extensive damage. Weapons—take that missile down!"

The bridge became a flurry of activity. Romero reported they were under attack to Command. The helmsman turned the ship hard to port without slowing, resulting in the Michael Murphy tilting at almost a thirty degree angle for a brief moment. Damage Control began to plan for the worst. And Weapons locked onto the incoming missile with a pair of RIM-66M Standards and sent them toward the approaching hostile ordnance.

The RIM-66 Standard was a medium-range surface-to-air missile originally developed by the United States Navy in 1967 as a replacement for the aging RIM-2 Terrier and RIM-24 Tartar—missile systems developed in the late 1950s and earlier 1960s, respectively. It had no set purpose; it had been designed for potential refits for multiple roles. Its list of targets included: Hostile jets;aircraft; air-to-surface, cruise, and surface-to-surface missiles; and even other ships, if it was required. Originally, the missile was designed to be used by the MK 13 GMLS, or Guided Missile Launching System. When the MK 13 launcher became outdated, the Standard was converted for use by MK 26, the first system of the widely-used Aegis Combat System. Then it was modified for the MK 92 Fire Control System, and finally, it was modified for use with the MK 41 Aegis VLS, or Vertical Launching System. This was the system currently used by Arleigh Burke-class destroyers.

The bridge was lit up by orange-yellow light as the doors to two forward cells opened and the Standard Missiles inside launched within half a second of each other. They rocketed straight upward until they reached one-thousand feet in altitude, then their flight paths angled out toward the incoming missile, and the Standards accelerated to their maximum speed of three and a half times the speed of sound.

Within four seconds, the two Standard Missiles reached the larger and slower hostile missile. They rapidly gained altitude, approaching their target from below.

They never hit their objective.

A principal of missiles of all types was that once they had a target, they flew toward this target in the most efficient way possible: Directly. Some missiles fired in a straight line, some fired on a wire that guides the explosive projectile during its flight, some had heat-seeking abilities, some were directed by radar and thermal imaging, and some were guided with a combination of satellite feeds and onboard computers that allowed them to track their targets with unnerving accuracy. But while in flight, they were all the same, and they all stayed in a straight line until they were in range of their objective.

But not the hostile missile.

It suddenly dove down, briefly traveling backward as it moved to avoid the Standards. The missile continued on its path until it hit the water below, and vanished beneath the waves without exploding. It then straightened its course, and resumed its journey toward the Michael Murphy.

The Standards, unable to match the agility of their target, registered they effectively overshot their objective, and self-destructed as they were programmed to do when they failed to reach a target.

The hostile missile rose out of the water after the Standards detonated, climbing to one-thousand feet before leveling out.

"What the hell just _happened?!_" Ford yelled, heart beating furiously as adrenaline pumped through his body. His Fight-Or-Flight had reacted as soon as Zeke said a missile was incoming.

"Enemy missile has evaded SAMs!" Zeke said. "Estimated fifteen seconds to impact!"

James let out a string of choice words he normally would not utter in front of the crew—a calm demeanor from a ship's commander reassured its crew. "Take it out with the Phalanx as soon as it's in range!"

"Yes, Commander!" One of the weapons operators, a blond male Petty Officer First Class named Thompson, said.

The Phalanx CIWS was a close-in missile-defense system that was equipped on most modern military ships, or at least had an analog. It was a 20 mm Gatling gun that fired forty-five hundred rounds per minute, essentially sending a wall of armor-piercing Tungsten at a target at more than a kilometer per second. The Phalanx was incredibly precise, but it also was limited to a range of four-thousand meters, too short to hit the approaching missile at its current distance; Thompson would have to wait roughly three seconds before engaging, allowing the CIWS' stream of projectiles to travel out to meet the missile before it was fully within range.

Those three seconds seemed to never come to Ford. Each millisecond felt like a year, each second a dozen lifetimes. His sense of touch, taste, smell, and hearing were jumbled, numbed and useless. His one-hundred and sixty-one heartbeat was the only thing he felt, and each thump seemed to be separated by hours.

Then he realized the three seconds were up.

The bridge was once again lit by orange-yellow light as the Phalanx, located just below and in front of the bridge windows, fired on the threat, creating a virtual beam of red light the red-hot rounds accelerated toward the missile. The sound of the weapon firing was so great, the concussive force from the massive armor-piercing rounds so powerful, that Ford felt his teeth rattle even behind the glass.

Missile and Tungsten bullets met each other in the air. The first twenty flattened harmlessly against the missile's armored shell, then the missile banked sharply to the right and reduced its altitude, dodging with agility no ordinary missile could match.

But the Phalanx was a different type of weapon; its precision was greater than any missile, and it delivered hundreds of bullets, not a single warhead.

The Phalanx followed its target flawlessly, riddling its armored hide with dozens of 20 mm rounds. When a Phalanx acquired a lock, there was no escape.

The missile tried diving into the water like it had done to escape the Standards, but its armored shell was finally breached, and the wall of 20 mm armor-piercing rounds tore its internal systems apart. The missile's warhead detonated prematurely, showing the ocean below with balls of molten metal, and its shell was incinerated in the blast.

On the bridge, a silent, collective sigh of relief escaped the crew. Disaster had been avoided.

Then four more missiles of the same type as the first appeared on the radar.

Ford sent out the same order as he did with the first; the bridge crew reacted to their instructions; more Standards were fired; the Phalanx's barrels kept spinning. But internally, Ford, and by extension everyone on the bridge, knew their defenses wouldn't be able to defend against four missiles of this strange type.

They were finished.

After the Standards failed to find their targets, the Phalanx was able to destroy one of the incoming missiles. But it was too little too late.

The first missile hit the bridge, piercing the metal effortlessly and detonating inside the bridge itself.

Commander James L. Ford IV was to be the first of the Michael Murphy's crew to die, being located near the center of the bridge at the time of the missile's impact. Petty Officers Romero, Zeke, Smith, and Thompson were the next—Ensign Davis followed them. In those seemingly unending moments before the missile hit, some were afraid for what would happen to their loved ones and families, others felt they still had much they could do with their lives. Most feared death more than anything. But, some did not, and they felt an otherworldly peace fill them, comforting them like the embrace of a loving parent when they were children.

Then they were gone; their deaths were painless.

The other two surviving missiles were aimed at the Michael Murphy's twin VLSs, containing the ship's load of missiles. An Arleigh Burke-class had the capability to carry a total of ninety-six missiles of varying uses. Ten had been used in the attempted defence of the Michael Murphy, leaving eighty-six left in the VLSs. Each missile was the rough equivalent of six-hundred kilograms of TNT—the total amount of explosive power was, at the least, equal to fifty-one metric tons of TNT.

The Michael Murphy, quite simply, disappeared.

The fireball burned hotter than any natural fire, engulfing the vessel and the water around it in a sphere of flame that would have been seen for miles around if the sea had been occupied. Shrapnel was sent beyond the curvature of the Earth, never to be found. The shockwave from the blast was so powerful, and the sound so loud, it could be heard and felt fifty miles away.

Miraculously, the Michael Murphy's keel—along with what remained of its hull just above the water line—was still afloat when the explosion subsided. Burning Oil leaked from it like blood, its metal was white-hot as if it had been molten for hours, it lacked propulsion or control, and every square inch of its surface was on fire, but the Michael Murphy continued to sail on through the sea—looking like the makings of a ship from Hell itself.

What was left of the Michael Murphy listed to port, then a large wave flipped it over.

And the Michael Murphy vanished beneath to ocean, joining its crew in death.

* * *

><p>Shockwave observed the burning Oil that remained on the surface, the last remnants of the human ship.<p>

It had been mildly fascinating to see the humans respond to the threat of the first Thunderstroke missile he ordered the gunners to fire. They reacted with a sound strategy—defensive missiles followed by an inescapable wall of bullets. Shockwave would admit that he had been surprised by the human vessel's, and its crew's, ability to repel attack; few lesser-advanced races had ever succeeded in detecting a Thunderstroke, let alone downing one. But in the end, their technology was simply too primitive, and they failed easily.

However, if Shockwave were to pit a single gunship against a group of human ships of that class, or one ship they created a vorn from now, the result of the battle may have been different. He would have to account for that, when the time came.

The scientist dismissed his thoughts. "Take us down. It is time to join our escorts," he ordered Skycharger.

The pilot complied silently, and the HAC dove and slammed into the water with a splash that would have sounded like an explosion on the outside. But inside the large gunship, the impact was silent, and the force was nothing more than a slight jolt.

Now, the _real_ hunt could begin.

* * *

><p>Optimus held up a servo for his soldiers to come to a halt when he heard a muffled explosion over the usual sound of gunships entering the water above, along with a weak shock wave from ahead, just strong enough to disturb the sediment on the sea floor around him. He could tell the sound and wave originated far from their current location, but it was still a matter of concern; few natural processes on Earth created such large discharges.<p>

_"What was that?"_ Arcee asked, azure optics searching the darkness just like Optimus was.

_"It felt like a bomb,"_ said Ironhide. He looked at Optimus and suggested, _"'Con gunship encountering our Autobots?"_

_"Perhaps and perhaps not, but if that indeed is the case, we will not be able to assist them from here. We will need to increase our speed,"_ the Prime answered. He gestured for his soldiers to move out, and started picking up his pace as fast as he could in the crushing water, spending almost a micro-klick suspended in the liquid between each step he took.

The others followed their leader's example and moved to catch up. Some were less successful than others.

The Autobots continued on their new pace for half a klick, before Chromia reported, _"Gunships on the left!"_

Optimus reacted immediately, and did the best thing he could do with no cover around them. He slid to a halt, willed the Star Saber to cease producing its own light, turned out his headlights, and crouched down as low as his tall frame would allow. _"Go dark, Autobots."_

His Autobots carried out his instructions as quickly as they could, and within three short micro-klicks, all of them had blended into the darkness. Arcee and Jazz vanished even faster than that—Optimus had not even finished speaking before he saw them disappear; it was a true testament to their training and experience with stealth operations.

The gunships arrived moments later, engines creating a cloud of sediment behind them. There were four of them, and each was a heavily-equipped Techraptor—even more than usual; an automated Heavy Ion Turret was attached to the searchlight under each gunship, and Optimus could see two extra missile pods near the Turrets.

The Techraptors passed over the Autobots, and stopped just under a hundred meters to their right, floating an equal distance above the ocean floor. A pair of doors opened on either side of each gunship, sending a giant bubble of air out and up into the darkness above. Standard Decepticon drones started exiting the doors once the cabin was flooded, each creating a small veil of fine sand as they landed on the seafloor. There were forty drones in all. Each one held a heavy weapon in their servos, had two large spotlights on their shoulder-joints, and was outfitted with additional armor plating.

After the drones deployed, four unseen Brute Seekers landed on the seafloor next to the drones. Their thin, tall frames had additional armor as well, and their missile launchers and chainguns and already at the ready.

_"Extra armor, heavy weapons, all weapon ports being used on their gunships. They're equipped like they're expecting to fight an army,"_ Arcee observed from where she was hiding behind a six foot-tall, sharp rock edge that had been just beyond the range of her and her fellow Autobots' headlights—only her training allowed her to see it.

_"There were only seven Autobot signals in this area. We're invisible to their sensors and are greater in number, but the Decepticons have never been this cautious with us ,"_ said Springer. _"Why are they treating these seven like such a large threat?"_

A potential answer formed in Optimus' processor, one that he refrained from sharing only because there were seven Autobot signatures they were chasing, and not five. But, if those five were here, then the Decepticons' caution would certainly be warranted—especially if _he_ was here.

_"Each of you, chose multiple drones to track. Ironhide—add a gunship to your targets; I will handle the other three,"_ Optimus ordered as the gunships started to slowly circle the area, searchlights scanning the seabed.

Ironhide pulled his Hydra Cannon off his backplates and aimed it at the nearest gunship at Optimus' order. He also aimed his Thermo Missile Cannon at two drones who had been deployed from the gunship he was targeting, while at the same time the others marked their own Decepticons.

Optimus considered several different ways he could destroy the three gunships Ironhide was not targeting, and quickly decided on targeting them separately; attempting to attack multiple at once would limit his effectiveness. _"Steady, Autobots,"_ he said after formulating his plan of attack, if it was needed. _"Do not fire unless we have been seen."_ Attacking the Decepticons first would be counterproductive—the loss of one of their patrols would cause the Decepticons to focus on searching for two groups of Autobots instead of one. Concealment was their only advantage against Shockwave's forces, and Optimus wanted to keep it for as long as he could.

The gunship Ironhide was targeting turned slowly to the left, taking it on a path that would lead it dangerously close to Optimus and his troops.

_"I'm not liking where this thing's heading,"_ Bulkhead said, his position the closest to the gunship's path.

_"Roll out of its path, wide-load,"_ said Sunstreaker, tone as blunt and rough as ever.

"If I do that, the 'Cons over there might hear me moving."

_"Then crawl! Wiggle your way into the mud like the creatures your squishy Miko likes! Create a portable space bridge and teleport yourself next to Optimus! I don't know, but shut the frag up!"_

_"Calm yourself, Sunstreaker,"_ Optimus reprimanded neutrally—neutrality was the best course to take when dealing with the elder of the twins when he was angered.

There was an irritated scoff through the channel, but Sunstreaker went silent.

_"Stay where you are, Bulkhead, changing your position increases your chance of being detected,"_ the Prime said.

_"Got it… Staying put,"_ the green Wrecker replied, voice uncertain, yet unquestioning.

The gunship continued getting closer, its searchlight swiveling in regular intervals from one side to the other as its pilots surveyed the sea floor. It reached the Autobots' position, searchlight between switching from its left side to its right, quickly moving toward the Autobots. The sea-traveling gunship paused as the edges of its searchlight came within meters of Bulkhead. The light remained there, unmoving, apparently focusing on the unsettled sediment that Optimus and his troops had disturbed when they rushed to blend in with the darkness.

_"Permission to fire,"_ Ironhide said, digit tightening around his Hydra Cannon's trigger.

_"Not yet,"_ Optimus replied, but he, too, was gripping his own weapon firmer than before. If that searchlight moved another foot toward Bulkhead, the Prime would reverse his order without hesitation.

For several tense moments, the gunship remained stationary, and its light remained fixed in place. Finally, the pilots decided the cloud of sand, mud, ancient, powdered rock, and Sea Salt was not noteworthy, and the gunship started to move along.

Then the searchlight created a glint off the twins' shinier-than-normal armor.

The light snapped back up, directly over the twins. The gunship turned toward them, angling downward for its missiles to have straight paths to their targets. A red tracer appeared on Sideswipe's armor as the automated Ion Turret targeted him.

The Brute Seekers and the drones deployed on the seabed, and the other three gunships—likely hearing a report from the pilots of the first gunship—turned as well. As one, the drones shouldered their weapons and aimed them at the twins, the Brute Seekers pointed their chainguns at the two Autobots, and the other gunships started to make their way over.

_"Well… This is a predicament,"_ Sideswipe joked. _"May we shoot now, Prime?"_

_"Yes."_

Ironhide was the first to open fire. His Hydra Cannon spat out its single, orange projectile, and the missile multiplied into scores of identical, micro-missiles. In the nano-klick it took the missile to split, it locked onto the gunship above the twins, and all of the new rockets accelerated to their target.

A blinding, orange-tinted light appeared as soon as the missiles impacted, nearly blinding every Cybertronian present and turning the dark depths of the ocean into a second sun. The explosion that accompanied the light was so loud, Optimus had to mute his audio receptors.

And just as quickly as it appeared, the light vanished, taking with it the sound of the explosion as well. What little was left of the gunship slowly sank toward the ocean floor, disappearing into amber ashes before it could hit the seabed. It became deathly quiet.

The silence was broken almost immediately as Arcee fired at three of the drones she had targeted, sending them off-balance in a single burst from one of her Photon Burst Rifles by changing targets fast enough for each round to hit a different Decepticon's helm. She fired two more, identical bursts from her Rifle, and the armor of the three drones failed—they offlined before they could pinpoint her position.

That was the spark that started the rest of the battle.

The Brute Seekers and drones opened fire with their heavy weapons—ranging from missile launchers, to Neutron Cannons, to Scrapmakers, to Cybertronian Railguns Optimus had not seen until now. But without being able to see their targets, the Decepticons' aim was very inaccurate until they managed to locate an Autobot.

The Autobots themselves, ironically aided by the lights on the chassis of the Decepticons and the searchlights of the Decepticons' own gunships, did not have this problem.

They fired freely and accurately, downing nearly a dozen drones and one Brute Seeker before their enemies started to fire back with increasing effectiveness.

Until the other three gunships joined the battle. Their searchlights moved up into the darkness the Autobots currently enjoyed, revealing them to the Decepticons on the seabed and allowing them to fire accurately, injuring Prowl and the twins with repeated Scrapmaker shots, along with bullets fired from the Turrets of the gunships themselves. The pilots then armed the missile pods of their gunships. They waited as the weapons locked onto each of the Autobots, and fired half a dozen missiles for each of their enemies.

The missiles would never reach their targets.

Optimus stepped forward, boldly walking toward the heavily armed drones while looking up at the gunships. He used the Star Saber to block a Cannon shot aimed at his helm, then felt a power he still did not understand surge within him, overriding his thoughts and enhancing the affect the Star Saber had on him by ten-fold.

Guided by the power within him, the Prime channeled his energy into the Star Saber, lighting up the blade to the point it was bright enough to overwhelm the searchlights of the gunships. He brought the Ancient artifact across his chestplates and down near his left hip. Then with a ferocity he normally would never call upon, he swung the Star Saber out in front of him in a horizontal arch.

A long, wide wave of celestial energy and solid light—its edge thinner than any matter in existence— flew from the Star Saber, bathing the dark ocean in a white glow almost as bright as the Hydra Cannon shot. It hit the missiles, destroying them faster than any Cybertronian's optic could register. The wave kept going and struck the nearest gunship, and the Decepticon craft simply disappeared. One moment it was there, and in the next it burned as if struck by a massive Hard-Light round, then it disappeared before anything else could be seen. The wave continued on for another two-hundred meters, then faded away.

The Decepticon Brute Seekers and drones stood in an unwilling, detached awe and fear. Only when Moonracer took off the helm of one of them were they able to break themselves out of their trance, and they returned to the battle.

The pilots of the remaining gunships were able to keep their processors more than their fellow Decepticons on the seabed. They attempted to focus their fire solely on Optimus as soon as the other gunship vanished, but the Prime was too fast, and the power within him was too great. He repeated his swing twice more, and the last of the gunships disappeared in a white glow.

And just like that, Optimus returned to normal, and the Autobots regained the advantage of firing with the cover of darkness.

Bulkhead opened fire with his own weapons after Optimus took down the gunships, offlining a drone who was slow to recover from the loss of the gunships' searchlights. He quickly moved to the side to avoid having his location compromised.

Ironhide fired his Thermo Missile Cannon at a Brute Seeker and a drone. The Cannon launched three projectiles that spun in a tightening circle around each other, becoming one just before they impacted. The drone wwastorn apart by the resulting shock waves released by the exploding bubble of gas created by the missiles—the Brute Seeker required two more shots to offline. Like Bulkhead, Ironhide changed position as soon as he fired.

Chromia took down a drone who was firing on her mate's last location, her shot piercing his armor and destroying his spark. She followed the strategy of Bulkhead and her sparkmate.

Flareup took out a drone with her customized Photon Grenade Rifle, the drone sharing a fate similar to those shot by Ironhide. Before she could move after firing, a heavy rifle round from a Brute Seeker's chaingun caught her in the tank, and she was sent down onto her backplates—her energon flowing from the wound and pooling on the seabed below her.

Bumblebee uttered a furious series of beeps through his broken vocalizer as Flareup was injured, their meaning lost in the water. He aimed both his weapons at the offending Brute Seeker and riddled him with bullets, most of which were stopped by the Decepticon's heavy armor and additional plating—only one shot caused any actual damage.

The Brute Seeker raised a servo in front of his faceplate, and fired his chaingun blindly at Bumblebee on its highest firing setting. More than ten rounds a micro-klick flew toward the yellow and black scout at velocities human weapons wouldn't reach for the next vorn, each one packing enough power to stop a fifty foot-tall Cybertronian in their tracks.

But Bumblebee refused to let up in his assault, or even try changing position. He continued shooting the Brute Seeker, hitting any weak point he even _thought_ he saw. Even as the Brute Seeker landed two lucky shots—one on his right side and the other on his left hip—Bumblebee kept firing; not even when he was knocked to the ground by the bullets, did he stop. His barrage finally halted when the Decepticon was hit in the neck, optic, and helm by three of Bumblebee's bursts in quick succession, and even then he only stopped because the Brute Seeker was offlined.

_No one_ hurt Flare' and got away with it.

_"Get their attention away from Flareup and Bumblebee!"_ Ratchet barked, and advanced on the two injured Autobots as Bulkhead and Springer attracted the Decepticons' attention by rapidly firing their weapons, lighting up their locations.

_"How fragging idiotic can you be?!"_ Ratchet asked after reaching the yellow and black scout, taking his medical kit out from a sub-space pocket. "_You stood in the path of oncoming heavy weapons fire. You're lucky you're not missing a limb, or worse!"_

"Oh, it's not that bad, Ratchet." Bumblebee looked down, quickly spotting the large hole in his side, and the twisted remains of his left hip. "Oh. Well, I've had worse."

Ratchet made a note to hit the younger mech with a wrench later, after they were back at base.

The battle was over shortly after that, after Jazz—who had used his skills as a saboteur to sneak around the Decepticons—shot one of the two remaining drones in the helm, and stabbed the last one through the backplates with his sword. The sole remaining Brute Seeker was offlined under the combined fire of the others.

_"If da rest of da 'Cons didn' hear dat mess, they need ta have their audios checked,"_ Jazz said after sliding his sword out of the drone he stabbed, walking toward Ironhide as the Wrecker officer turned his headlights back on, along with most of the other Autobots.

Optimus barely acknowledged the Saboteur's joke, and turned to where most of his other Autobots had grouped together as he turned his own headlights on. "_Sound off, Autobots. Who is wounded?"_

_"Good here,"_ reported Arcee.

_"I was hit by a few shots near the end of the battle,"_ Springer said. _"But nothing too serious. I'm fine."_

_"Same,"_ Bulkhead added.

_"Untouched,"_ said Jazz.

_"One round hit my servo,"_ Jetfire observed, looking down and seeing the damage to the inside of his right servo for the first time. _"However, that seems to be my only injury."_

_"Ratchet and I got through the fight unscathed,"_ Moonracer said as she tended to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. _"But Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Prowl, Flareup, and Bumblebee will need repairs when we return to base. Ratchet and I are doing what we can, now."_

_"Our job would be easier if certain a mech wasn't reckless,"_ Ratchet said, pointedly looking at Bumblebee as he sealed Flareup's wound.

The yellow and black scout rolled his optics, but said nothing in his own defense.

Optimus noted each injury, and asked those who not yet reported, _"Are there any other injuries?"_

_"One of those Railguns got me in the shoulder-joint,"_ Ironhide replied, rolling his left shoulder-joint uncomfortably. There was a noticeable hole in that section of his armor._ "Those things pack a surprising amount of firepower. But I've had worse. I'll live."_

_"This pile of bolts is a pain. Literally,"_ Chromia said with a dismissive gesture toward her sparkmate, referring to how they shared each other's discomfort. _"I'm good to go for now; I'll pay him back later."_

_"Was that a threat or a proposition?"_ Asked Ironhide.

Optimus ignored Ironhide and Chromia and turned his attention on Elita, who was standing near him. All of his Autobots, save Jazz and the femme he looked at, missed the flash of worry that passed through his optics.

Elita returned his gaze. _"If I was injured, I would have said so,"_ she said, not outwardly acknowledging the look in Optimus' optics. However, a different look flashed in her own optics, a silent thank you for his concern.

Optimus accepted the answer to his question, and turned away from Elita after he saw her own optics flash. He was a Prime—he could not let himself be distracted. "_Get the wounded on their pedes,"_ he ordered. _"We need to leave the area before more gunships arrive."_

Moonracer and Ratchet quickly finished tending to their injured comrades and helped them to their pedes, then leaned them against other, waiting Autobots who weren't damaged in the battle. Prowl, the twins, Flareup, and Bumblebee redeployed their weapons after being paired with uninjured bots, and looked at Optimus, ready to continue despite their condition.

_"Ya ain' gonna need ta walk far, Prime,"_ Jazz said, he and Arcee's headlights visible about three-hundred meters ahead, where the Saboteur had gone to investigate something he saw during the battle and taken Arcee with him.

Optimus led his other troops, injured and healthy, to Jazz and Arcee, and he saw what the smaller mech was referring to.

They were now standing on the top of a cliff, overlooking water that was even darker than it was behind them. The cliff extended on to their left as well as their right; its face was gradually curved outward. And even when Ironhide, who had the most powerful headlights of the Autobots present, turned his lights downward, the cliff continued on beyond their range.

They had arrived at the crater.

Optimus unmuted the channel Shadowstreaker had established with he and the soldiers around him. "_We have reached the crater, Shadowstreaker—give us an update on the location of the other group of Autobots."_

* * *

><p>The atmosphere of the ops center was tense as we all watched the mainscreen, waiting for the others to reach the crater and contact us again. Few words had been exchanged since we heard from Optimus, and it seemed like that was for the best; everyone was on edge, especially my fellow Autobots. Without a doubt, Smokescreen, Silverbolt, and Air Raid wanted to be out in the field, assisting our brothers and sisters in arms. It was torturous for them, being on the sidelines while those they cared about went into battle.<p>

I knew, I was in the same boat.

Override, Flightstorm, and Cyberfrost were less tense than we Autobots, but I could tell by the way Override lightly tapped a digit against her servo—and the way the optics of Cyberfrost and Flightstorm were marginally dimmed often in silent conversation—that they were also anxious to see the safe return of the others.

The only one who seemed unaffected by the mood in the ops center was Wildwing. He was on a pipe just above the human elevator, happily drawing and humming to himself. The picture he had drawn of a bot's faceplate was lying next to him, but he wouldn't allow anyone to look at the image he was currently working on.

Considering his recent work, I wouldn't be surprised if he was unlocking the secrets of the universe.

All of us except Wildwing continued gazing at the screen in silence, until the life signals of the team in the field came to an unexpected stop, halting about three-hundred meters from the crater.

I internally frowned. What were they doing? They were well beyond the range of their headlights, so they couldn't be stopping because they saw the crater. A random pause to examine something they found on the ocean floor didn't make sense, either—it would waste valuable time on a rescue mission. Had they been found by Decepticons?

"Why'd they stop?" Flightstorm asked, seemingly just voicing his thoughts.

"Wondering the same thing, myself," I said, checking the readings of each of my comrades out in the field. Their sparkbeats were slightly elevated, and their nanite activity was higher than normal. Their chassis were preparing themselves for damage. Not good, when an army of Decepticons were in the area.

"One way you could stop wondering is if you actually contacted Prime on your own," Fowler said, marginally raised voice suggesting the tense situation was starting to get to him, and was getting annoyed at things that normally would not annoy him. A common way of venting frustration or stress. I knew, I was guilty of doing it as well, at times.

"The life signals of the team are more stressed than they were until a few moments ago," I informed. "I can think of two reasons why battle-hardened soldiers would become tense while out in the field: They are under attack by hostile forces, or they are uncomfortably close to hostile forces. Both are equally as stressful, and both require your full attention—contacting the squad now would distract them from more important things."

Fowler sighed. "And a distracted soldier is a dead soldier."

"Exactly."

The room returned to silence for a brief period of time, before the life readings of the squad in the field became even more tense than before. Shortly after everyone's readers spiked, the signals of the twins became erratic and noticeably weaker, with Prowl's signal following in their wake a moment later.

"Moderately severe injuries" I reported, digits tensing against the workstation console. So they _were_ in battle.

And I could do nothing but wait and watch.

"Who's hurt?" Air Raid asked, sounding more professional than I had heard him be before now.

"The twins and Prowl." The life signal of Flareup became erratic as I spoke, and Bumblebee's followed suit shortly after. "And now Bumblebee and Flareup have been wounded."

Raf's eyes widened, and his lips parted in a silent gasp. On the human computer, he opened the specifics of Bumblebee's life signal and read all the information available there, eyes scanning everything as quickly as possible.

I gave the youngest human on base a sympathetic look as he browsed Bumblebee's life signal data, then I turned my attention back to the mainscreen. It must be difficult for him to know his best friend was injured, and be unable to do anything about it except see how badly they were wounded. If it wasn't for the fact I needed to keep an optic on everyone's life signal, I would be doing the same thing Raf was. Only I'd be looking at Arcee's life signal data in the case she might be injured.

Almost as quickly as their signals spiked, the readings of the rest of the team in the field started to level out and return to a state of normalcy. No one else had been wounded, according the computer.

"The battle ended," Override concluded.

"Looks like it," Smokescreen agreed, digit tapping one of his crutches.

I ignored Smokescreen and the tall Velocitronian as the signals of Jazz and Arcee moved away from the others, stopping at the edge of the crater. The main group, injured bots included, joined them a few micro-klicks later.

After the squad apparently regrouped, Optimus reopened the channel I had created. "_We have reached the crater, Shadowstreaker—give us an update on the location of the other group of Autobots."_

"They've returned to their previous pace and are deep in the crater now, but they're back to moving east," I said, flicking my optics to the signals of the other Autobots. "If you're fast enough, you'll be able to intercept them a few kilometers north of your position."

The channel was quiet for a moment, and I saw the signals of my comrades begin to sink in the deeper water of the crater. "_Acknowledged. We are beginning our second descent, now. Keep us upda—"_

"Wait," I interrupted, knowing Optimus wanted to keep our conversations short so he could focus on the mission. "Before you ask me to go silent again, what are the status of the wounded?"

_"They will require repairs when we return, but they will be able to finish the mission,"_ the Prime answered. He was silent for another moment, probably waiting to see if I was going to ask another question. "_Keep us updated on the location of our lost Autobots."_ He muted the channel again.

Back to playing the waiting game, it seems.

* * *

><p>Grimlock suddenly came to a halt, causing Ultra Magnus and his Dinobots to do the same. The titanic mech felt a vibration in the water, a hum that carried further than it should. It wasn't unlike the explosion they heard earlier, or the flashes of light they saw in the distance to their right.<p>

But this was different. It was constant and no louder than a conversation, nothing like the explosion or light flashes. It also was rapidly getting louder, and the vibrations it produced were becoming stronger.

It was close.

_"Why have you stopped, Grimlock?"_ The little Wrecker asked.

_"Decepticons,"_ said Grimlock. _"They close."_

_"Then we need to find cover; we won't stand a chance out in the open."_

The Dinobots' leader growled, the rumble distorted by the water. The little Wrecker was always trying to lead, but he was _not_ the leader. He _Grimlock_ was.

Grimlock rounded on Ultra Magnus, absolutely dwarfing the Wrecker commander. _"We do what _me_ say. And me Grimlock say we fight!"_

_"With what, Grimlock?"_ Ultra Magnus asked, hiding any prohibitions he had of speaking against Grimlock behind a facade of calm. _"We lack Broadside's heavy armaments, Slug is injured, and you are limited by your own injuries and lack of weapons."_

Grimlock's horns pulsed dangerously at the mention of his broken sword, his most prized possession. To Grimlock, it was no mere weapon—it was a part of him, an extension of his frame, processor, and will. But even without it and with his injuries, he was more of a warrior than Ultra Magnus could _ever_ hope to be. The little Wrecker was in _dangerous_ territory...

The vibrations continued getting stronger, and the humming got louder, and Magnus was saved from an angry Grimlock by the arrival of two Techraptor gunships.

Before Grimlock even had a chance to shout his command to fight, the gunships launched a missile at each of them, and opened fire with the Heavy Ion Turrets attached to their searchlights.

The Autobots acted instantly.

The Dinobots' leader turned his backplates against the incoming missile, his heavy armor absorbing the blast and shielding Slug from further harm. Scores of Ion Rounds slammed into his armor.

Sludge brought up his Diffraction Barrier and blocked the missile meant for him, detonating it harmlessly and far from he or the unmoving Broadside.

Snarl and Ultra Magnus fell to the ocean floor, and the missiles exploded behind them, just far enough away to not cause serious damage.

Swoop, however, fared worse than the others.

He tried to dodge the missile fired at him, but he was a nano-klick too slow, and it hit him in the lower chestplates. The explosion sent him tumbling through the water, until he landed heavily on his backplates. A second missile followed the first, then a third, and a fourth. A fifth projectile was blocked by Sludge's Barrier, but not before the gunship also hit Swoop with a burst from its automated Turret.

By the time it was over, Swoop had taken four direct hits from Thunderstroke missiles, and a total of eighteen Heavy Ion shots had torn through his armor. Energon was leaking from his frame at an alarming rate, and his optics were so dim they were almost out.

Grimlock looked at Swoop in numb horror. The flier was the first of the Dinobots to join his unit back when Grimlock called it the, 'Lightning Strike Coalition Force.' Since before they were in their current, immensely powerful forms, Swoop had been the unit's little brother, their source of entertainment—and, at times, the cause of their annoyance. He was Grimlock's oldest and closest friend.

And he was grievously injured.

A missile was fired at the Dinobots' leader, but the massive Dinobot wildly slapped it aside with the back of his servo without letting go of Slug, causing the missile to explode on the seabed next to him.

Grimlock turned his helm and glared at the gunships, horns pulsing a deep crimson as he silently dared the Decepticons to test him again.

They did, and another missile was sent toward Grimlock.

The titanic mech made no move to avoid the missile, and quicker than the average optics could see, slapped it to the side like he did with the other one. This time, he had not been wild in deterring the missile. It was redirected by his strike, and took a long, looping path back to its target.

A path that one of the gunships was right in the way of.

The missile blew up against the gunship's hull, tearing a massive hole in its side and causing it to turn violently to the left. Its nose ended up against the right side of the other gunship, directly in front of its weapons, and an armed Thunderstroke missile. By the time the pilots of the second gunship realized a live Thunderstroke missile was about to be fired right into their comrades, it was too late.

The Thunderstroke fired, exploding almost before it had left its tube. This caused the nearby, unfired missiles to detonate, which in turn detonated all of the missiles from the two Decepticon craft.

Both gunships vanished in a brilliant flash of light and a shockwave powerful enough to knock Grimlock back a step. Then it was over.

Grimlock's brief battlerage faded once the gunships were destroyed, and he looked at the fallen Swoop in unmasked worry as he was treated by Ultra Magnus, whose basic-level medical skills were apparent as soon as he started to treat the flier.

_"How Swoop?"_ The Dinobots' leader asked, tone not as hostile toward Magnus like it had been before; he was Swoop's only chance of treatment since no one else present even knew the basics of medical treatment. They hadn't been through the training Autobots normally went through.

_"He has a dozen holes in his frame, his shoulder-joint is almost detached, and his tank was ruptured,"_ Ultra Magnus said. _"He is not good."_

_"You Magnus able to fix he Swoop?"_ Sludge asked, optics looking younger than they usually did.

_"I never went through advanced medical training—I can only do so much,"_ Magnus replied. His optics narrowed an eighth of an inch as he failed to seal a main energon vein. _"I can't even stop the leaking."_

Slowly, and with a shaky servo, Swoop reached out, and grabbed Ultra Magnus' servo. He guided the Wrecker commander's servo a few inches higher up, and said, _"Veins… Must be closed far away from big… Hole…"_ His helm fell back against the seabed, and he entered stasis lock.

Magnus stood up from the Dinobot flier's side, and Snarl picked up his smallest brother. _"He is in stasis. Nothing else can be done for him,"_ he said, helm turning to Grimlock. _"But he _will_ offline if we don't get him to a medic, just like Broadside and Slug."_

_"Only medics around are Decepticons,"_ Grimlock said.

Magnus' gaze turned to their right, where they had all seen multiple bright lights in the distance. _"Perhaps not."_

_"You think lights were Autobots?"_

_"It is the only way to explain the lights we all witnessed. We are on a very wet, organic world. In water, natural light of that magnitude can be produced in only two ways I am aware of: Lightning, and erupting volcanoes. But we are too deep for lightning, and the water is too cold for us to be standing on a volcanic vent. The only other explanation is an unnatural source of light, such as a high explosive detonating. And if there were explosives involved, it is logical to assume the Decepticons encountered a force of Autobots sent to find us."_ Magnus blinked once, clearing sediment from his optics. _"We need to need to move to that location."_

Every feeling, every instinct, and every _fiber_ of his ego yelled at Grimlock to discard Ultra Magnus' advice. _He_ was in charge, _not_ the little Wrecker! If he wanted them to go straight, they _would _go _straight!_ If he wanted them to turn back, they _would_ turn _back!_ The little Wrecker had no right to tell him what _they_ should do!

But Grimlock still had his thoughts, and when he pushed his powerful feelings, instincts, and pride to the side, he saw that Ultra Magnus' suggestion was the best thing he could do for his Dinobots—his brothers.

_"Then we go,"_ Grimlock said, and turned and moved in the direction they had seen the lights from earlier.

The others followed him, and together they made their way to what they hoped would be the help they had been searching for.

* * *

><p>We all watched the mainscreen after the channel I had established with Optimus and the others went silent, waiting for when both groups of Autobots would cross paths. If they both continued their current pace and direction, they would meet each other in less than five klicks.<p>

That wasn't a long time by any means, but with so many gunships in that area—none of which I could track—I hoped it wouldn't be too long.

The signals of the group of unknown Autobots abruptly came to a stop. They simply stayed motionless for a moment, then one of their life signals dropped dangerously low and fluctuated wildly, even more than the two who were already in critical condition. They must have had a Decepticon encounter.

Soon after one of the signals dropped and fluctuated, it evened out, at least somewhat—it was still very, very weak. Then the entire group started to move southeast, almost exactly where Optimus and the others had been when they had their own encounter with the Decepticons.

"They were attacked," Flightstorm said, coming to the same conclusion I had.

"And one of them was given some nasty dents," Fowler said, obviously referring to the injured Autobot.

I unmuted the universal communications channel I had created with Optimus and the others. "Optimus—it appears the second group was attacked. They've now moving roughly in your direction, and another of them has been seriously injured. If you adjust your path twelve degrees west, you will end up right in front of each other."

The channel was silent for a long micro-klick. _"We might already be, Shadowstreaker,"_ Optimus said, sounding as if his attention was focused mainly on something else. _"Confirm: Our lost Autobots are now traveling southeast?"_

"They are."

_"And how far are they from our current location?"_

I glanced at the mainscreen. "A kilometer and closing."

_"Then there is no need to change our path—we are already in front of each other,"_ the Prime said. _"We have a visual on a light from one member of their group."_

I could almost feel everyone's nerves easing at that piece of news. "Acknowledged, Optimus. Should I prepare the space bridge?" I asked evenly, not allowing my sense of urgency to relax at all until my comrades—Arcee especially—were back at base. I couldn't afford to let myself think the mission was already over—it could cause me to not react quickly if I needed to.

And that could lead to someone getting offlined.

_"For now, yes. Lock the space bridge onto my coordinates, but do not open it unless we have no other choice; it may still be possible for us to return to base without destroying the space bridge in the process,"_ Optimus answered. _"We are going to go silent as we make contact with our lost Autobots. We will contact you when either we have a plan for extraction, or we require the space bridge immediately."_ The channel fell silent.

I swiftly typed a command into the computer to tell it to lock onto Optimus' location, then I stood to my full height for the first time since the Prime and the others left the base, knowing I could do nothing else until Optimus contacted us again. Even though I was keeping myself from relaxing in the slightest, the atmosphere in the room had lightened considerably. It was almost normal, now.

Almost—Raf still looked very concerned about Bumblebee.

"About time they found them," Miko said to Jack, giving her boyfriend the smallest smile I had seen from her when she was sarcastic or purposefully incredulous. That probably had something to do with my presence, and the fact the others were still out there, with Decepticons searching the waters around them. "I was starting to think they weren't trying."

"They're already trying, but sometimes their missions get a little… Sketchy," said Jack. "We've now seen that twice today." He was remarking about the battle my fellow Autobots fought over the Endless Slaughter just before I contacted base, from what Arcee told me.

"Let's just hope this one doesn't get any worse," Raf said, head on his hands as he attentively watched the screen of the human computer, mainly the life signals of everyone who was injured.

Air Raid chuckled at Raf's words, but in an encouraging manner and not a mocking one. "You don't need to worry, little guy. Most Autobots will watch out for fellow Autobots, no matter what. Bumblebee will be fine."

While Air Raid's statement sounded genuine and comforting, I detected a hint of accusation and distrust. Subtle wording in his statement added to what I faintly heard. He said, '_Most_ Autobots will watch out for fellow Autobots,' instead of, '_All_ Autobots will watch out for fellow Autobots.' The choice in wording sounded intentional and directed, and was hidden well in a reassuring comment.

It was a subtle slap toward me. Because of what I did on the Hammer, he thought I didn't look out for my fellow Autobots at all.

Despite how much his delicate words stung, I didn't give any indication I got their hidden meaning. I had given him a pretty damn good reason to be angry with me.

I had given _everyone_ a pretty damn good reason.

The humans and bots around me started some conversations after Air Raid comforted Raf and threw a hidden, verbal jab at me, but I blocked them out. I had to focus on the task before me—I could be needed at a moment's notice.

But then Wildwing got off the pipe he had been lying on and walked toward me, humming happily with each step. He reached the railing of the catwalk nearest to me, and held his drawing out to me.

"What's that?" I asked, not taking my optics off the mainscreen. Optimus and the others were getting close to the second group, now.

Wildwing looked at the piece of paper, then back up at me. "It's a drawing," he said with a tilted helm, as if he was confused I didn't know what a drawing was. "The funny feeling wanted me to draw it, and now it wants you to see it."

_That_ got my attention immediately. I turned my optics away from the main screen, and analyzed the picture Wildwing had drawn.

It was a black and white image of a dark, mostly rocky, and also slightly inclined wasteland. Twenty tiny figures were in the center of the image. All but three were highlighted by lights they carried individually, and one that had lights attached to it also carried a great light in its arm. The figures varied in size, but three of them—and one in particular—dwarfed the others. The largest figures appeared to be carrying something.

But what was most noteworthy about the image were the dark shapes just beyond the range of light around the figures. They were ominous and intimidating, and great in number. One was also at least twice the size of the others, and was closest to the figures.

Now what's that supposed to be? And why is it noteworthy?

* * *

><p>Optimus led his soldiers toward the other group of Autobots, using the Star Saber as his primary guide instead of his still-active headlights. They were almost close enough see the second group, and the Prime could now tell that the light his soldiers had seen belonged to only one of his lost Autobots—the others walked with no lights. He also could tell that the Cybertronian with the lights was very tall, probably nearly twice his own height. This fact, combined with how he could feel the Earth shaking heavily with each step that came from the direction of the second group, all but confirmed Optimus' earlier suspicions of their identities. He could think of no other Autobots who fit their rapidly-forming descriptions.<p>

_"One with the light's a big fragger,"_ Ironhide stated as his cannons rotated, the warrior in him automatically wary of a larger Cybertronian.

_"They do seem to be rather… Large,"_ Moonracer agreed from the Wrecker officer's left as she supported Flareup.

_"The leader is larger,"_ Optimus said, neutral voice carrying a factual tone.

Instantly, the Prime felt the optics of his soldiers look at him questioningly.

_"How do you know?"_ Arcee asked.

_"Simple logic."_

The other Autobots exchanged curious looks at their leader's cryptic answer, but they were prevented from inquiring further as the second group finally began to materialize.

The first of the second group to come into view was the only one with lights. It was the towering, ninety foot-tall frame of Sludge. His primary color was silver, duller than Jazz's polished paint, and he had a mixture of black and yellow trim. His chestplates were red, and an Autobot symbol was embedded in them along with the Dinobots' own symbol.

In Sludge's servos, he carried a bulky, dull green and earth-colored mech who was nearly as large as Sludge himself. The second mech Optimus recognized as Broadside, a Wrecker well-known for his ability in battle. The mech looked to be physically fine, but he was not moving, and his optics were closed. Something was crippling him.

The next bot to come into the light of Optimus' soldiers was the stocky, seventy foot-tall chassis of Snarl, who in turn carried a heavily-damaged, more lightly built Swoop. Both mechs had red paint, but while Swoop was more dark grey than red and had a hint of gold, Snarl was primarily red, and his gold and silver secondary colors covered almost an equal amount of his frame.

Of the two mechs, only Snarl moved. Even at a casual glance, it was easy to tell Swoop was in stasis lock.

A smaller figure emerged from the darkness after Snarl and Swoop. He had wheels, unlike the others, and his blue, red, and grey armor was known throughout the Autobot ranks. He stood just a foot under Optimus' fifty-one foot height, but the extra armor on his shoulder-joints extended above his helm, technically giving him greater height than the Prime. He held his helm high and properly, but it was obvious he was far from his full strength. He was Ultra Magnus, leader of the Wreckers.

Optimus did not need to see Ironhide, Bulkhead, and Springer to know that they almost certainly snapped to attention at the sight of Ultra Magnus. The Wrecker commander would expect nothing less from them, even with the presence of another Wrecker who clearly was in need of medical treatment.

Then Grimlock arrived.

He'd been well behind the others for a reason Optimus did not know, and the Prime could feel the ground shaking with each of his steps. After a moment, he entered the light, his obsidian armor gleaming like polished stone. His hulking chassis made even Sludge look small, and his red, visor-like optics burned with a barely-contained fire—nine foot-long metal horns on his helm enhanced his aura of intimidation. A small amount of blood red and yellow made up trim and highlights on his thick armor, but it was dominated primarily by black.

In the light of he and his group, Optimus could see that Grimlock had suffered more damage than everyone else combined. And yet, they seemed more like an annoyance than anything else to the titanic mech; he did not even show a sign of mild discomfort.

The seriously injured form of Slug was being carried in Grimlock's servos. His armor and paint had a collection of elements from Sludge, Snarl, and Swoop, and had the unique feature of jagged spikes on the sides of his servos. These features, however, were marred by the melted armor and gaping hole in his chestplates. Whatever had hit him, it had required only one shot to do its damage. That was disconcerting, considering the incredible quality of the armor of all the Dinobots.

For a long moment, Optimus' group stood looking up at the Dinobots in various stages of awe that ranged from Arcee's raised optic ridges, to the twins' openly gaping mouths and widened optics.

_"The Dinobots… I thought they were just a rumor,"_ Flareup said as Arcee supported her, reacting to the Dinobots' presence in a similar manner to the twins. She may have held a higher rank than Smokescreen, the twins, Springer, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee, but that was only because she was a demolitions tech, and all demolitions techs were given the rank of Third Lieutenant upon completing their training. In reality, she had the least amount of service time with the Autobots, and had met only a tiny fraction of the Autobots' many special units before Cybertron's population dispersed. To her, the Dinobots had been rumor only, with no faceplates to go with them—meeting the Dinobots in person was like having characters from a story come to life before her optics.

_"Ah thought da same thing 'bout da Thirteen,"_ Jazz commented.

The awe on the group was broken as Optimus used his headlights to signal to the Dinobots. He turned his lights off and quickly back on again four times rapidly, then left them off for half a micro-klick before turning them on again. He was was using an old code the Autobots once used to send messages across short distances without fear of them being intercepted by the Decepticons. What Optimus sent was, _channel frequency?_

Sludge looked at Grimlock for permission.

Almost reluctantly, the Dinobots' leader nodded once, his optics not turning away from Optimus.

Sludge then gave a complex series of signs with his own lights, seemingly flashing them randomly if one did not know the code Autobots used. _109-841.044,_ was the signal.

Optimus keyed his communications systems to the frequency Sludge signaled, and he established a channel. _"Grimlock,"_ he said through the newly created channel, connecting it with the channel he already had with his own group.

_"Optimus,"_ came the growl of Grimlock's reply.

_"All reports and witnesses concluded you and your unit were offline."_

_"They were wrong."_

_"It appears so. How have you survived this long on your own?"_

_"By being away from you."_

The Dinobot leader's response surprised many within Optimus' group, and they exchanged looks of shocked offence at the disrespect to their commander.

Optimus did not react to the insult, partially because he felt it may have been justified—countless had lost their lives under his leadership. _"If that were entirely true, you would not be in this situation."_

Grimlock said nothing in response.

Optimus was about to continue, to point out to Grimlock that acting in an antagonistic manner did not help his Dinobots, but then the Prime froze. The water had subtly shifted, reacting to something unseen. A humming could be heard from all around them, and it set off alarms in his helm.

And from a short look he gave his group and Grimlock's, the Prime was not the only one who felt uneasy. They were all tense and looking around their inky surroundings suspiciously, as if expecting something to jump out at them from the darkness. It suddenly felt like they were being watched, analyzed—_hunted._

The Thunderstroke missiles hit without warning.

For each Autobot, there was at least one missile that targeted them, and at least three targeted each Dinobot.

Ironhide was among the first to be hit, and he went down with two missiles hitting his chestplates.

In a twist of fate, Ironhide being one of the first hit saved his Chromia's life. Her spark felt the same pain its mate was feeling, and she fell to the seabed next to him, saving her the full brunt of the Thunderstroke that targeted her. She was still wounded, but if she had been standing, her more delicately-built frame would have been torn apart by the projectile.

Instinct took over for the other Autobots at that point, and time seemed to slow as their CPUs processed everything around them in nano-klicks.

Arcee, reacting on reflexes honed through countless orbital-cycles of training, pushed Flareup to the seabed, and used the falling femme as a brace for her to jump and flip over the missile meant for her. Jazz dodged the Thunderstroke meant for him at the same moment.

Elita managed to avoid the initial projectile fired on her, but another exploded just to her right, and she went down with shrapnel embedded in almost the entire right side of her chassis.

Springer and Bulkhead were hit at nearly the same time, and both fell heavily to the ocean floor with holes in their armor. The twins fell with them and barely avoided taking further damage from two other Thunderstrokes.

Ratchet and Moonracer went to throw themselves and the Autobots they supported out of the direct path of the missiles. But despite their quick efforts, they were still caught in the blast, and all four went down, two with even more injuries than before.

Jetfire avoided one missile, but was hit immediately by another, and he fell next to Elita.

Optimus swung the Star Saber behind him at chestplate level, cutting a Thunderstroke meant for his backplates in half from warhead to engines. Behind him, Ultra Magnus went to ground as a missile hit him in the exact place Optimus was to be shot, while Snarl and Sludge went down after taking three and four missiles each.

Grimlock remained standing after being hit by half a dozen Thunderstrokes, but he dropped Slug to the ocean floor to prevent the smaller mech from taking any damage meant for Grimlock himself. His roar of challenge was lost in the water, but the red from his horns illuminated an area the size of a small building.

The Prime felt the power within him he did not understand surge, numbing the horror he felt at seeing his Autobots injured. He swung into the darkness, sending another wave of celestial force out from the Ancient artifact. The wave was wider and longer than the ones he used before.

The wave impacted three gunships far in the distance, erasing them from reality; however, the resulting blasts briefly revealed the presence of no less than three gunship wings that had silently surrounded them on all sides, led by an enormous HAC-177 closer to the group and to Optimus' left.

They were trapped.

The power within Optimus guided his servo, and he cleaved another missile meant for him in two. He swung the Star Saber again, and two more gunships vanished as a wave of light cut through them as if they hadn't been there.

Another missile was meant for the helpless Elita, and Optimus destroyed it as well, along two others fired at the twins.

But even as he removed the threats, Optimus felt the power within him begin to fade, and his frame start to become fatigued. For every moment he used the Star Saber, more and more of his energy was sapped. Before long, he felt as if he had not consumed energon in several cycles, and his movements—controlled by the power within him—slowed considerably.

Finally, after four more missiles were destroyed by the ancient blade, Optimus reacted too slowly to block a fifth, which was a larger, more powerful version of a normal Thunderstroke. It exploded against his side, tearing his armor and damaging his internal systems. He was thrown back almost thirty meters by the explosive force—further away from his soldiers than any of the Dinobots—and the Star Saber was sent five times that distance away from the nearest Autobot. He felt a piece of himself disappear as the artifact left his servo.

Arcee and Jazz, who had been able to dodge missiles with their speed, agility, and natural skill and intelligence, were injured by nearby explosions shortly after. They were the last of Optimus' group to fall.

Only Grimlock remained standing, but even he fell to a knee-joint after so many missiles hit his armor.

Once Optimus, Jazz, and Arcee were injured, the barrage of Thunderstrokes suddenly halted. The lights of each gunship were turned on, and Optimus saw that his earlier estimate was off—there were at six gunship wings around them.

The gunships started to move in closer, and more than a hundred red tracers appeared on the frames of the Autobots, multiple coming from the HAC-177.

In that moment, with the heat of battle beginning to fade away as his injuries set in, Optimus knew they had no time left before the Decepticons opened fire again.

And this time, his soldiers could do even less to defend themselves.

The Prime unmuted the channel to base and roared, _"OPEN THE SPACE BRIDGE!"_

The bridge opened so quickly it seemed like Optimus had summoned it from his CPU. As soon as it opened, the green portal started to suck water into it like a massive vortex.

The Autobots closest to the bridge were sucked into the portal along with the water, as if powerful servos had picked them up and taken them to safety.

One by one, every one of Optimus' Autobots were sucked into the bridge. Even the massive Dinobots were pulled away, leaving Optimus the last one on the other side of the bridge.

Optimus was the last Autobot on the wrong side of the bridge for only a moment, as the green portal started to pull him back to the base as well. But it was flickering, now, dimming. It was failing from the other side.

In a last effort, the Decepticon gunships opened fire on Optimus, sending thousands of rounds in the direction of the Prime.

But it was too late. The portal pulled Optimus into its powerful vortex, and away from the Decepticons, the gunships, undoubtedly Shockwave himself.

… And the Star Saber.

The Ancient artifact lying on the seabed was the last thing Optimus saw before he entered the space bridge just as it failed entirely.

* * *

><p>Conversation inside the ops center was still mostly easy and casual after we saw that Optimus and the others finally were right next to the other group of Autobots, but I didn't join in.<p>

I was still too focused on getting my comrades—and hopefully seven other Autobots—back to base at a moment's notice, to have an actual conversation at the moment. It may have only been a black and white image, but something about Wildwing's drawing now wasn't sitting well with me. I felt like Optimus and the others were in more danger now than they had been at any point in the mission, and it seemed like the mission was just beginning, and not ending. My spark was telling me to get them all back to base _now,_ and forget the space bridge; Optimus could create another one.

But logically, I knew I couldn't do that. I would be going against my commander's orders, for one thing, and probably get me some time in the brig or at least extra duties on the base. And for another, bringing my comrades and the other Autobot group back would create at least a mega-cycle of unnecessary work for Optimus. He may have had my carrier's Forge, but that didn't mean he knew how to use it as well as she did. To create something as complex as a space bridge, he would need to create it piece by piece, and section by section; he had done that when upgrading the ground bridge into the space bridge. Not only that, but having seawater flood the ops center would destroy more than just the systems of the space bridge. Multiple energon power lines would shut themselves off when water made contact with them, and those would need to be repaired before work could even begin on the space bridge.

In essence, opening the space bridge now, against Optimus' order, would cause problems I could not justify simply by saying I felt as if it should have been done. Waiting for Optimus to contact with further instructions was the best thing to do. He would, more than likely, order me to open the space bridge anyway. And waiting for a few extra micro-klicks was not a serious risk.

At least, that is what I hoped.

Without warning, the life signals of almost all of the team weakened and became erratic. The signals of the other group of Autobots weakened as well, though one less than the others.

I unmuted the channel with Optimus and prepared to activate the space bridge, even as the people and bots around me just started to react to the sudden drop in the team's life signals. But before I could either speak or activate the bridge, I became locked in place as new information appeared on the screen—information that turned my spark to stone.

Arcee was just injured. And I wasn't there.

Thought began to rapidly leave my processor, replaced immediately by white-hot rage. Someone hurt _her._

No, no, no. This is _not_ the time for this. The Protocol is _not_ what is needed right now.

My vision started to go red, but I forced my optics shut in an effort to starve off my Quriomus Protocol. This _wasn't_ going to help Arcee.

It would help if I tore whatever attacked her into pieces.

If something was able to injure her while she was on alert for Decepticons, it will tear_ me_ apart.

Not when I can repair myself as quickly as I'm damaged.

The red started to creep into my darkened vision, and my hearing faded as I focused even more on keeping my Protocol from activating; dimly, I could hear alarmed statements from everyone else in the room.

Repairing myself is only useful if I can damage whatever hurt Arcee.

What _couldn't_ be damaged with such vastly enhanced strength?

Primus, the Thirteen, Cybertronian warships, Omega Supreme, orbital defenses, multiple Annihilators, large numbers of well-equipped, normal Cybertronians, long-extinct wildlife native to Cybertron. Not necessarily all in that order.

Scalpel and the Paraions on the Hammer would disagree. So would the Hammer, if it could talk.

More red creeped into my vision, and my servos clinched, crushing the metal of the workstation beneath my digits. My spark was beating a mile an astro-klick, while at the same time my thoughts were becoming harder to form—the pure, white-hot rage was starting to bubble.

I was losing.

That was with the element of surprise on my side. And my guards were ordered to keep me contained, not offline me.

They weren't trying to contain me after I offlined one of them—they were trying to take me down after that. The riot soldiers weren't trying to subdue me when they showed up outside my cell. Neither were the soldiers in the hallways trying to recapture me, nor were the bridge crew of the Hammer. All of them had been firing or stabbing to offline me, not disable me in any way. And that hadn't worked out well for them, had it?

… So many lives gone…

Just as my will to fight the Protocol began to crumble entirely, a shouted command from Optimus cut into my deadened hearing, "_OPEN THE SPACE BRIDGE!"_

My hearing came rushing back in a deafening flood of sound. My optics snapped open, red rapidly disappearing from my vision and clearing. The white-hot rage of the Protocol faded away, replaced by a determined focus on Optimus' order—that was the only thing keeping the Protocol in check.

I slammed my fist on the button that would open the space bridge faster than I had ever carried out a command before, breaking the console without trying. I turned to the space bridge and started walking toward it before my vision was even completely clean of red, nearly missing three nearly identical looks of shock from Jack, Miko, and Raf gave me as I briefly turned to them. My optics must have a hint of red to them.

"Get Wildwing out of here!" I barked far louder than I meant to and at no one in particular, my voice a touch deeper than normal. It solidified my suspicion the Protocol was partially effecting me, both mentally and physically.

The space bridge opened before I heard anyone acknowledge my yelled statement. A virtual wall of dark water came flowing from the portal like it was being shot from a gargantuan fire hose, dimming the light of the portal and flooding the space bridge tunnel. It quickly poured out into the ops center in a violent tide as high as Arcee was tall. I had to brace myself against the flow, but I remained standing despite the massive amount of water streaming from the space bridge.

The first of my fellow Autobots came tumbling through the portal, but I didn't know who they were because they were only a vague silhouette in the dark water. However, from their size, they couldn't be any larger than Prowl.

What could have only been the majority of the rest of my returning comrades came through the space bridge before the first one even stopped moving, littering the floor of the space bridge. An unknown figure—seemingly similar to Optimus and appearance, yet distinctively different—followed them.

The first silhouette of the second group of Autobots was soon followed by six other, massive silhouettes. Each of them were definitely larger than Optimus: One was between Optimus and Megatron in size; three were between seventy and eighty feet in height; one was probably around ninety feet in height; and the final one was so large, they took up nearly the entire space bridge completely all on their own. That mech—because there was no way a femme would be shaped like that—shook the ground when he hit the floor of the ground bridge tunnel.

Once what was certainly the second group of Autobots came through the space bridge, the bridge itself started to fail. The portal flickered, strange, unnerving sounds started to come from the machinery of the bridge, and something in the air began to vibrate.

I had not seen Optimus come through the space bridge yet, and for a moment, it seemed like he would never appear. But then I saw what had to have been his silhouette exit the space bridge.

The bridge failed as soon as Optimus came through, cutting off the supply to the water flooding the ops center and the base itself. The water dropped quickly after that, and soon the tide I had braced against disappeared; however, there was still about ten feet of water in the ops center that was slowly draining to other parts of the base.

I hurried forward as the water drained, carefully walking around my injured comrades—my CPU still being affected by the Protocol and the desire to find and protect Arcee. In moments, I had found the femme I loved. She had a series of nasty-looking puncture wounds on her left pede and a few near her hip on the same side, however the wounds were minor compared to most of the injuries I saw in the others.

But despite this fact, my spark and my chassis were screaming at me to stop standing in front of her, pick her up, take her to the med-bay, treat her wounds until they were completely gone, and then come back to treat the others. I struggled against that course of action, knowing that, logically, she would be okay while I tended to more serious wounds. And, logically, I should not be this willing to forgo others for her when we had only been officially courting since I kissed her upon my return to Earth. Cold logic dictated that I should not be _this_ attached to her so soon. Even with our Imprints and the fact I truly loved her—our processors had not caught up to our sparks.

My spark—and part of my CPU—did not agree with this, and an internal battle between logic and my feelings started to be waged, effectively shutting me down from any type of action.

But then my best friend—newly-redesignated as my courted—looked up at me. And in those azure optics, I saw a look of understanding, and of urging. She knew how I was feeling right now, and was telling me to treat the others first.

Thanks to Arcee, logic won against my feelings—for now. I looked back at the bots who had stayed behind with me. I faintly noticed the absence of Wildwing and Flightstorm, as well as the fact that even the humans on the catwalks were drenched from the water that poured from the space bridge.

"Help me treat the injured," I said, voice normal once again. "Tend to the most seriously wounded first; those with minor injures can wait."

I didn't wait for acknowledgments from the bots in the ops center, and got to work immediately by crouching next to the second smallest of the new Autobots. He was about six feet taller than Optimus, and built a little heavier. It was clear he did not have a vehicle as an alt mode, but instead transformed into what seemed to be a flying dinosaur—a type of Pterodactyl, to be exact. But I wasn't familiar with the exact species.

Upon basic observation and examination, I found the mech to be in stasis lock, leaving a minimal amount I could do to improve his chances until Ratchet or Moonracer were able to treat him. His armor was, like my own, thicker than what was normal for a flying Cybertronian, but it was torn to shreds in many areas. Whatever had sent him to stasis lock, was something that would have offlined most other Cybertronians.

I sealed what injuries the stasis lock hadn't closed, made my way away from the stasis-locked mech, and crouched next to the mech who was similar in size to Optimus. His appearance, when not clouded by water, was very different from my leader's, but he had the same basic colors as Optimus, and he was still about five feet taller than I was. Along with a shoulder-joint that was shredded to the point of it being useless, the mech also had holes melted in his armor, and a long slash across his chestplates that went almost a foot into his internal systems.

**"Can you hear me?"** I asked the mech in the language of Cybertron as the bots who had been with me in the ops center started to move to other Autobots, minus Smokescreen due to his own injury. There was no telling how long this second group had been on Earth, whether any of them had downloaded Earth's languages, or even if they had access to the internet at any point. But, our native language was guaranteed to allow communication—it was used by nearly all Cybertronians.

**"I can, but that is not important,"** the mech replied. His voice was much deeper and rougher than mine, yet carried a calm and commanding tone to it; he sounded very much like Michael Ironhide, an actor whose work I had enjoyed when I was still a human. He pointed to an unmoving, very large, dull green and earth-colored mech whose frame was almost covered in weapons. His servos were damaged severely, but besides that the second mech seemed to be fine. "**Broadside needs treatment more than I do."**

**"What's wrong with him?"** I asked. **"The wounds on his shoulder-joints are minor for a mech his size.**"

**"A parasite has been trying to pierce his spark since he freed me from my cell."** The mech gestured to the flier I had just treated with his helm. **"And according to Swoop there, Broadside has less than half a breem before the parasite succeeds."**

I frowned internally. I may have known basic medical treatment—and maybe even had picked up a little more from how many times I had been injured myself—but a parasite was something totally unknown to me. Hell, I only knew Cybertronians could even _get_ parasites because it was a topic briefly addressed during my training. Even then I knew little about how to deal with one serious enough to threaten a bot's life, let alone treat it effectively—the servos of a proper medic were needed for that job.

"Override," I said to the red and yellow femme, who was currently treating Elita for some pretty serious shrapnel damage. I pointed at the unmoving frame of Broadside once she looked up at me. "We need one of the medics up. A parasite is endangering the life of Broadside here, and I don't have the ability to destroy it."

Ratchet, obviously hearing me, opened a sub-space pocket and started to go through it with one servo—his other servo and most of his opposite side were heavily damaged. Several times he brought his servo out of the pocket, tossed a strange-looking medical tool away, and went back to going through the pocket. After going through several tools, he took out a dark, circular device and tossed it to me.

I caught the device easily. "What's this?" I asked, turning the object around in my servo. It had to be a medical tool of some kind, but I had never seen it before.

"Surgical magnet, designed to catch and hold shrapnel in place until a surgeon can treat the injured bot," replied Ratchet.

"Will that stop a parasite?"

"It's a Primus-damned parasite—of course it won't stop it!" The white and red medic snorted. "But, it should slow the parasite down long enough for the critically wounded to be stabilized without first wasting time on Moonracer or I."

"I heard that, Ratchet," Moonracer joked through gritted denta, nursing wounds to her backplates.

I looked back at the unnamed mech who wanted me to treat Broadside. "**I lack the skills required to remove or destroy the parasite, and the medics are refusing to be treated until the seriously wounded are stabilized, but I have been given a tool that should delay the parasite long enough for us to get to everyone else. Do you understand?"**

The unnamed mech nodded once, optics carrying an accepting look.

I quickly moved to the huge form of Broadside and placed the surgical magnet on his chestplates, just above his spark. I heard the device hiss quietly as it attached itself to Broadside's armor, then the magnet began to hum equally as silent. It was working.

I turned around to make my way back to the unnamed mech, but paused as the largest of the new arrivals picked himself up off the floor, shaking it a bit with each movement.

His armor was nearly as dark and inky as mine, and was highlighted with a little blood red and yellow trim—a modified Autobot symbol was in the center of his chestplates. His armor was impossibly thick, and it was clear he had taken enough damage to offline a small army, yet it barely seemed to effect his movements.

As he stood up, I saw that proportionately he was between Ironhide and I in build, but would have been thrice my height, if he could stand up straight—he was hunching over. Long, metal horns extended from his helm, making him appear twice as intimidating as he already was. Furious, visor-like red optics glared at everything around him, as if he saw it all as weak and disgusting to look at.

It was, at that moment, that I realized I was looking at the mech from the picture Wildwing had drawn.

The enormous mech looked down at me for a moment, helm tilted down as if a sparkling stood in front of him.

**"Hey, how you doing?"** I asked casually, hiding my discomfort at the titan's stare. It was hard to decide who intimidated me more—this mech or Extremis.

The titan snorted at my words, admitting smoke from behind a battlemask that was covering his faceplate. Then he walked toward the ops center, his steps shaking the ground as he barely made an effort to avoid stepping on injured Autobots.

Once the titan walked away, I made my way back to the unnamed mech and crouched next to him again. "**That's all I can do for Broadside. Now, let me treat your own injuries."**

The unnamed mech nodded, and pushed himself off the floor so he was sitting up, making it easy for me to treat his injuries. **"What is your designation, soldier?"**

"My name's Shadowstreaker. I'm the heavy weapons specialist for Optimus Prime's team on Earth, the planet you currently are on," I replied, closing a minor energon vein in the mech's shoulder-joint. **"Yours?"**

The mech's optics narrowed a millimeter, as if surprised at my question. **"Major General Ultra Magnus, leader of the Wreckers."**

I blinked. This was Ultra Magnus? No wonder he was surprised—the name Ultra Magnus was almost as famous as 'Optimus Prime.' But what was he doing all the way out on Earth? Optimus had given him the task of preventing the Decepticons from conquering Cybertron after its population dispersed, and the ranks of the Decepticons and Autobots split apart.

**"It's an honor, sir, but If you don't mind me asking—what are you doing out here?"** I asked as respectfully as I could, at the same time blocking an energon leak from one of the holes in Ultra Magnus' armor.

**"Running,"** Ultra Magnus replied, his voice carrying a noticeably hard edge to it.

**"'Running?'"** I asked. That wasn't in Ultra Magnus' nature, from what I had read about him.

The Wreckers' leader grimaced as I pulled a jagged piece of metal from his shoulder-joint, what appeared to be a ball of metal from a Thunderstroke missile. **"Five vorns ago, the continuing conflict on Cybertron was as it was since the population scattered: Cold and tense. We built one defense tower, they built a defense tower; we constructed a fleet, they constructed a fleet; we equipped ourselves with better weapons, they equipped themselves with better weapons. But we didn't fire on the Decepticons, and they didn't fire on us—energon was too scarce for war on the scale as it was when Optimus was among us."**

**"Sounds like something changed."**

**"Something did. In a time where tensions between us were at a relatively normal level, I was sent a message from Shockwave: 'You will leave the planet, or else.' Naturally, I refused to leave my post… But…"** He trailed off, and his optics became.

I closed another energon vein. **"But?"**

**"But Iacon payed for it,"** Ultra Magnus continued after my prompting. **"Shockwave began bombarding our shields with high-hypersonic artillery located in several neighboring city-states—we never saw them coming. Almost a quarter of a million shells had impacted the shield by the time we managed to get our own artillery up and running, and by then Teletraan-1 had reduced the barrier's coverage of Iacon to protect as many vital sectors as it could."** He set his jaw, optics hardening. **"The small civilian sector of Aloix was wiped out with no survivors, right inside the Walls of Iacon. Six-hundred and thirty-three thousand were offlined before we were able to return fire and stop the bombardment, and those casualties are just from Aloix; elsewhere, another one-hundred and thirty thousand were claimed by artillery. It was the largest loss of life Cybertron experienced after most of the population dispersed."**

Damn, three quarters of a million gone in a moment. **"What was your response to that attack?"** I asked, continuing to seal what injuries I could—he had a lot of small ones that would be one, large one if I didn't treat many of them.

**"The only response I could give: I kept up a continuous bombardment of the surrounding region, and evacuated all sectors that would be vulnerable to another assault. Then I… Followed Shockwave's demands."**

**"Why did you do that?"** I asked. **"Clearly, Shockwave wanted to weaken the Autobots by taking you from command."**

**"Shockwave threatened further bombardments across all Autobot territories if I did not leave, and promised to use orbital assets if he needed to,"** Ultra Magnus answered. **"So, I informed the Autobots of my decision, made arrangements to leave with two companies of volunteers to search for Optimus, left Sandstorm in charge of our forces on Cybertron, then we left. And Shockwave followed us."**

**"Then you were captured?"** I asked.

Ultra Magnus shook his helm, grimacing again as I had to dig into his shoulder-joint to seal a wound. **"No, we led Shockwave on a long chase across several galaxies for the next five vorns. But then, yes… He finally captured us about two orbital-cycles ago."**

**"And the volunteers who came with you?"**

The Wrecker commander's faceplate became stony. **"Broadside and I are only ones left of that group. And along with the Dinobots, we represent the last of Shockwave's captives."** He looked at his destroyed shoulder-joint. **"I ran away to protect lives, but my actions led to lives being lost despite my motivations."**

I had no idea what to say to that, and I honestly didn't want to. The way Ultra Magnus was talking about his decision to leave Cybertron was drawing parallels in my processor to my own actions on the Hammer.

At last I was nearly finished getting Ultra Magnus into stable condition. **"I would suggest you share your story with Optimus—he'll want to hear it."** I twisted one last vein closed, then I could no more without tools. **"There. Now I've done what I can for you,"** I said, silently thankful I was done. I stood up and made to go over to Ironhide, finding myself not wanting to say anything else to Ultra Magnus for now.

**"I intend to share it when I can. And, Shadowstreaker,"** Magnus said to me, regaining my attention. **"May I give you some advice?"**

I nodded, uncertain of what the Wreckers' leader wanted to say.

**"The mech you spoke to a short time ago, Grimlock—be very careful about what you say and how you act around him,"** Ultra Magnus said, tone and optics even more serious than they had been since I started talking to him. **"He has… More than a bit of a temper, and he does not like anyone who is not one of his team. Do not be casual or let your guard down when you are near him."**

That made him sound like an energon-thirsty Decepticon. But then again, he _was_ acting very different than any Autobot I've met. **"Noted,"** I said, then turned away and walked to Ironhide.

Not in the mood to talk for a few klicks, I wordlessly started repairing Ironhide, even as the others who had stayed at the base each went to treat another bot. And yet, there were still those who needed to be tended to.

This was probably going to take a while.

* * *

><p>It took almost a breem to stabilize the bots who had been critically wounded, transport them to the med-bay, and hook them up to the right medical equipment. Not only that, there was still about a foot of water still covering the ops center and the rest of the ground floor of the base—it had fried dozens of electrical systems already.<p>

In terms of injuries, the four Dinobots—as I learned the group that Grimlock led was called—besides their leader would be at a hundred percent within two mega-cycles, even with the severity of Swoop and Slug's wounds.

Grimlock himself would be recovering for longer than his team. He had refused treatment, but definitely not for a noble reason. After my brief encounter with him, he had retreated to the most secluded corner of the ops center and claimed it as his personal space, since he was too tall to walk in our hallways. Whenever someone tried to approach and tend to his absolutely horrific injuries, he glowered at them until they turned and walked away, growling if they didn't do so immediately.

By all appearances, his desire to remain untreated was an issue of pride. And now his pride was going to keep him out of action until his auto-repair systems healed his wounds on their own. If there was ever a pointless reason to refuse medical attention, it was because of pride.

Out of all who were injured, four of the team who went with Optimus would be recovering from their injuries for the next jour, nine would need three mega-cycles to be back to full strength, and the rest would be off their pedes for one mega-cycle at the minimum. Only Broadside's recovery time was less than a mega-cycle, and technically he could be out on patrol in the next three solar-cycles once he onlined; but he was still out after Ratchet and Moonracer gathered enough strength to remove the parasite from the huge mech's sparkcasing.

Treatments for everyone were still an ongoing process, but most of the wounded been moved to the med-bay and were being supervised by Ratchet or Moonracer.

Optimus, Jetfire, and Arcee were the only ones who yet to be moved to the med-bay, but out of choice. Ever since they returned, they had been refusing to be moved or accept medical attention until everyone else had been treated for their injuries.

But, now that everyone besides Grimlock was in the med-bay, Jetfire was the first of the three to finally accept treatment for his wounds. That was what I had just finished giving.

"You should be alright to move now, Jetfire," I said to the seeker, placing the last crude patch on the holes in his wings.

"You mean, '_Be_ moved,' youngling," Jetfire corrected mildly, looking at the shrapnel sticking out of his pede. "I can only limp, right now."

"I was meaning you could move your upper chassis without accidentally damaging your wings even more," I said, and pulled him onto up onto his pedes before helping him lay down on the hovering energon pallet we had been using as a gurney.

The old seeker snorted, wincing as he put his weight on his damaged wings. "Hmph. And my wings had just healed from the _last_ time I was shot by a Thunderstroke missile. I'm too old for this slag."

I smiled at Jetfire's words and looked at Override, who was waiting to push the energon pallet. "Put him on a berth near Moonracer and Ratchet—they'll advise on how much painkillers he should have."

"Right." Override walked away with that simple acknowledgement, and Jetfire laid in silence.

I watched the Velocitronian take Jetfire away. It felt strange, giving her orders. She was the leader of an entire faction of Cybertronians, and I was just a grunt; it didn't seem right. But, she had only been on Earth for a few breems, same as Air Raid and Silverbolt. And Smokescreen was injured, and logically an injured bot who wasn't a medic should not be giving orders in how to treat wounded. The role of de facto supervisor fell to me until the wounded were taken care of.

Not sure how I felt about that.

I turned to Arcee, who was resting against one of the rings of the now-defunct space bridge.

She narrowed her optics. "Oh, no you don't. Treat Optimus first, I'm fine."

"And if I go to do that, Optimus will insist on me treating you first," I said factually, knowing how Optimus would react to being repaired before one of his soldiers. "And not only are we both sworn to follow his orders, but I _want_ to treat you, as well. You have both a Prime and your courted against you on this. I think you lose this time."

The blue and pink femme sighed, letting her helm fall back onto the ring she was resting against. "Fine. Go head."

Pleased that I managed to convince her to get medical attention, I went to a knee-joint beside her and silently began examining her damaged pede.

After several micro-klicks of silence, Arcee raised one of her optic ridges at me, as if she had expected something. "Well?"

"'Well' what?" I asked, carefully using a medical tool I got from the med-bay to remove a piece of metal from one of the puncture wounds in her pede and placing it on the floor.

"Aren't you going to say something about how you just won an argument?"

"That wasn't an argument. If it was, there probably would have been some shouting involved."

"Not all arguments are loud," my spark pointed out, a slight smile forming on her faceplate. "Have you tried getting into a serious argument with Optimus?"

"A few times," I said. "It's pretty much impossible to succeed without a second person. Optimus never raises his voice in a disagreement, and it's hard to disagree with someone when they can defend their viewpoint so calmly and precisely."

"And also explains very clearly why he's right," said Arcee. "Elita, Prowl, and Ultra Magnus are the only ones who consistently match him in arguments."

"Why do I get the feeling Optimus is more affected by the arguments of one of those bots than the others? And here's a hint: I'm not talking about a mech."

Arcee chuckled at my joke, though it was quickly cut off when I pulled another piece of metal from her pede. "When it isn't something that requires professionalism, I would absolutely agree. But you've seen him in arguments, you know how he is. When a decision needs to be made, he will never show favoritism to anyone."

"I know," I said. "I just wanted to get a laugh out of you."

Arcee smiled, but was silent for several moments—the look in her optics was thoughtful. "How are you holding with being left out of action again?" She finally asked, no trace of the amusement she was feeling not long ago.

I paused after taking out another shard of metal, thinking deeply on the question. Right now, I was completely fine with being sidelined. But I definitely _wasn't_ fine while she and the others were out taking bullets and missiles, while I stared at a computer. And then there was how the Protocol almost activated when I saw that Arcee had been hurt. When I look back on that moment where I struggled against it, it seemed that the Protocol was activating because I couldn't see her—I wasn't near her. It hadn't activated when she was almost offlined right in front of me, and the only reason I could reach that explained why it didn't activate was because I had been near her at the time of her being hurt.

Then again, my Protocol had also been activated for the first time less than ten breems before then, and I had still struggled against it.

"I'm… Better than before," I finally chose as a response, resuming my repairs on Arcee's pede.

"So I can see."

I raised an optic ridge questioningly.

"Jack called me while you treated Ultra Magnus," the blue and pink femme answered. "He said your optics had a red tint to them, and that for a moment, you didn't sound like, well—you."

I sighed quietly. "Yeah. That happened."

"That all you're going to say about it?"

"No." I took out another shard of metal from her pede, placing it on the floor with the others. "I had to battle against my Quriomus Protocol, stop it from activating."

"From what Jack described and what you've said about the Protocol, you didn't succeed entirely."

"I didn't succeed at _all,_" I said bluntly. "I was losing the fight, and would have failed entirely if Optimus hadn't called for the space bridge."

Arcee seemed surprised to hear that. "This isn't a major injury, Shadow'."

"No, but my Protocol apparently doesn't like it when you're hurt and I'm not in the area." I removed the last piece of metal from Arcee's pede, then moved to the shards in her hip. I quickly found I had to make a conscious effort _not_ to look at her curves more than necessary, and at times I looked at the floor instead of what I was touching—it wasn't mine to look at.

I didn't have to look up to know Arcee was either amused or pleased at my actions; maybe it was a little of both. But she still said seriously, "You know, Jack said you scared he and the other kids pretty good."

"It wasn't of my own doing. And if that scared them, my Protocol when it's fully activated would give them heart attacks," I said, removing the first of two halves of a metal shard that had broken in two while embedded in her hip. "Also, Jack shouldn't have been scared; he was there when the Protocol made me offline Airachnid and destroy MECH."

"So was I, yet I saw nothing. He may have been there, but his focus was on his mother. He only saw glimpses of you, nothing more. This was the first time he really saw a hint of what the Protocol does. And Miko and Raf hadn't even seen a passing image of the Protocol before now—it shocked them," Arcee defended. "But that's besides the point. What he said truly scared them was not your optics or your voice—it was your behavior."

I blinked at that. "My behavior?"

My spark looked over at the workstation, at the broken console and the crushed metal on its edges. Then she looked back at me, optics meaningful.

I went back to taking pieces from her hip. "Signs of me struggling against my Protocol."

"I know. Jack and the others were trying to speak to you when it was happening."

"They were? I heard nothing directed at me."

"That's exactly what scared them," Arcee said. "You listen, no matter what you think about something, but you didn't react to anything they said. That—along with how you destroyed the console and had what Jack described as a 'Chilling' demeanor after you opened the bridge—scared them; they aren't used to seeing friends act like something else."

"They walked out of the war room without saying a word, yet they consider me friend two breems later?" I asked, genuinely confused by their behavior. Either they were angry at me, or they weren't—it couldn't be both.

Arcee shook her helm lightly, as if I wasn't understanding her. "They're teenagers, Shadow'. _Human_ teenagers. There are enough hormones running through their veins to affect their brains like a few cubes of high-grade. Things they usually find comforting may suddenly annoy them, and their moods shift faster than I can change speeds. They may have left before you could explain anything further, but that doesn't mean they don't see you as a friend. They're just… Emotional."

I hummed. It was possible hormones had something to do with Jack, Miko, and Raf leaving, even if Raf had appeared sad instead of angry. I had dealt with my early teens by developing a mostly logical thought process, as well as joking with people I was close with—but all teens dealt with their emotions and hormonal changes differently. "So, what should I do about them, then? I had been about to talk to them about their departure from the war room when the sensors detected the Dinobots, Magnus, and Broadside."

My spark was silent for a few micro-klicks, faceplate blank, but with thoughtful optics. "I would give them some time before talking to them. My transition vorns were _not_ a happy time for me—I'd wait for them to ask you to talk. And with Jack being the unofficial leader of their group, you shouldn't be waiting long. He's smart, and he'll realize sooner or later avoiding directly talking to you is immature."

I hummed again. "I'll consider that. But, what about the others who walked out?" I asked, giving her a serious look.

She had no answer for that.

We were silent until I finished taking out shards of metal from Arcee's hip. Good thing, too—it was starting to get harder to avoid looking at Arcee's rather… Well-proportioned curves. "Finished. Do you need help getting to the med-bay?"

The blue and pink femme looked at me in mock offense, and pushed herself off the floor and onto her pedes. She tested her weight on her left pede, and immediately grimaced and almost fell. When I went to help her, she waved me off. "No, I'm fine. I'll limp to the med-bay, but I'll be fine. Go treat Optimus—he's the last one, now."

I remained standing in front of her.

Arcee rolled her optics. "I'll. Be._ Fine._ Now, go; I'll see you later in the med-bay." She didn't wait for me to reply, and started to limp slowing toward the hallway. She was wincing with each step.

I felt like I should help her anyway, but I grudgingly listened to her assurances and walked over to Optimus, who was sitting against the wall below the human catwalks.

The Prime looked worn from the rescue mission, but his only wound was a large hole in his side. His optics were a bit dim and secluded, as if his attention was not on his surroundings. His battlemask was also still in place.

He looked up at as I approached, the look in his optics disappearing. "Shadowstreaker."

"Optimus," I addressed in kind, kneeling so I could treat his injury. "Sorry it took so long to get to you; there were a lot of wounds we needed to tend to."

"And there will be for quite some time. Our injuries will continue to demand attention until they are repaired. In order for that to happen, our frames will require a great amount of rest," Optimus noted. His optics grew guarded again. "But I fear we cannot afford to rest."

I removed part of a solid ball of metal that had pierced Optimus' armor, at the same time giving my commander a puzzled look. "Why?"

"I have... Lost the Star Saber." Optimus said the words slowly, yet with a cold indifference that seemed forced. It was like his statement pained him.

I looked at him sympathetically, then returned to getting pieces of the ball of metal out of the Prime's side. I had noticed the Star Saber was missing, but I didn't have a chance to ask about it until now. "I figured. But, losing the Star Saber isn't the end of us—we still have my carrier's Forge and Megatronus' Omni Saber."

"Neither can match the Star Saber in power," the Prime countered. "Shockwave is also a very gifted mech in the field of science; he will account for a security system built into the Star Saber. How much will he be able to learn from the technology of the Ancients?"

I had no response to that, so I focused entirely on healing Optimus.

Optimus and I descended into silence for about half a klick, then the Prime said, "I have heard you experienced a moment of… Distress."

"Arcee told you what Jack said to her?" I asked.

The Prime nodded. "She did. The others in the ops center at the time also found it worthy of mentioning to me. Agent Fowler was particularly vocal."

Not surprising there. Fowler was the only one I hadn't asked Optimus to call to the war room for my debriefing—he had no information of the Quriomus Protocol. "My Protocol didn't like Arcee being injured while I wasn't close to her._ I_ didn't like her being hurt."

"Injuries are a part of our duties as Autobots," Optimus said. "If Flareup's wariness of your Protocol proves to be founded, you may begin to develop complications in the future; your Protocol should not activate so easily."

"Yeah. I know," I said, not meeting Optimus' optics as I took out another piece of metal.

The Prime seemed to sense my mood, and added, "But, it is good your Protocol did not activate this time. And you managed to still activate the space bridge when I requested it. Everything turned out the best that it could, under the circumstances."

"This time it did, but what about the next one?"

"_If_ there is one," Optimus said firmly. "You will deal with it when it is in the present. Worrying about it now affects you in a negative manner."

I dropped my argument, knowing it was pointless to continue. Arcee and I had _just_ had a discussion on how arguing with Optimus never worked, so why did I even try?

Silence fell on us again. But as I treated Optimus, I saw that Grimlock was glaring in our direction from his corner. When I looked fully at him, the titan continued to glare, then looked away, staring at the wall in front of him.

Normally, I would have been unnerved that Grimlock was glaring at me, but while I was treating the others, I noticed Grimlock deliberately glaring at Optimus on two different occasions. He had a problem with the Prime.

"What's between you and Grimlock?" I asked, thankful I was able to come up with another topic to talk about before the silence continued for too long.

The Prime sat up a little straighter, optics focused forward and away from the titanic mech. "Grimlock and I have seldom agreed on strategy, logistics, or personal philosophy. He views losing three cities to save four as worth the price, while I always search for a way to lose no cities at all; he finds the finer points of command pointless and a waste of time, yet soldiers will offline from lack of energon if those duties are not planned and ignored; and he views anyone who is weaker than his Dinobots as a pathetic excuse for a life, while I value all lives regarding of race. These disagreements have greatly increased in frequency since he became a Second."

"'Second'?" I asked, giving Optimus a confused look. I had never heard that term before.

"A Second is a term used to refer to Cybertronians whose sparks have been transferred to another frame," answered Optimus. "The process is very delicate and can end with the Cybertronian's spark being lost before their time, but it was not uncommon before and during the war for a Cybertronian to have their spark transferred to a chassis they built specifically for war."

"So, Grimlock was… Shorter, at one point?"

The battlemask made it impossible to know if Optimus reacted to my casual joke. "At one point, Grimlock was your height. Sludge, Slug, Snarl, and Swoop were all shorter than Bulkhead, as well."

"All the Dinobots are Seconds, then?" I asked, taking out yet another shard out of Optimus' armor.

"They are."

"What happened to make them all want to change frames?"

The Prime went silent, a saddened look appearing in his optics in a flash, then vanishing just as quickly. "It was not by their own choices."

I paused and looked up, waiting for him to explain.

"Late in the war, Shockwave managed to capture the Dinobots; back then, they were still called the, 'Lightning Strike Coalition Force,'" Optimus said. "They endured four vorns of Shockwave's experiments, tests, and tortuous treatments. During their captivity, Shockwave found the frames of the Dinobots lacked the strength and durability to withstand his experiments. He created new, larger frames for each of them, and designed them exclusively for battle. Their armor was thicker, their weapons were more powerful, their strength was multiplied ten-fold, and they were given new alt modes."

"Dinobots," I said, suddenly seeing the name in a new light. I couldn't believe I hadn't realize it before. "Their alt modes are dinosaurs."

"Now that I understand what dinosaurs are, I can say with certainly that Shockwave did base their alt modes on those creatures," Optimus said. "It is my personal opinion that Shockwave admires the primitive ferocity of Earth's ancient monsters, and desired to create that ferocity in Cybertronians through experimentation."

"Shockwave wasn't done with them, yet?"

"Unfortunately, he was not. Shockwave's goal was to create super-soldiers, Cybertronians vastly powerful who were loyal to him and him alone." The Prime shook his helm. "He did not succeed with any of them. Even with their new forms, Sludge, Slug, Swoop, and Snarl lacked the strength to live through the treatments Shockwave gave them—each one them were revived on the operation tables multiple times. But Grimlock… Grimlock was different than the others. His chassis accepted each treatment he was given, no matter how extreme or painful; he remembers every moment of them, as well. His strength was greatly increased for a second time, and his armor thickened. But instead of creating the loyal super-soldier Shockwave desired, the experiments created something he did not count on: Grimlock's temper."

I raised an optic ridge at that, and returned to treating Optimus' injury by taking out another piece of metal. "Grimlock didn't have a temper before he was captured?"

"He did, but it was nothing compared to what it is now. Something inside Grimlock broke during his captivity—a dam that contained his rage. When in battle, he is more like an embodiment of black fury than a mech. And when not in battle, his anger is still present, still affecting him constantly; and at times, he loses control of it even while off the battlefield. Rarely have I seen Grimlock with no trace of anger after Shockwave conducted his experiments."

"You're making it sound like he's closer to a monster than a bot," I said, glancing at the titanic mech out of my peripheral vision as he continued to just sit in his corner, barely moving at all.

"Then I am explaining incorrectly," said Optimus. "Grimlock does not slaughter others, and he does not let himself surcome completely to his murderous rage. He is simply… Troubled, and has decided the two things he has left to live for are his Dinobots, and working toward the goal of revenge against Shockwave."

I looked at Grimlock again as I took out the last piece of metal in Optimus' armor and started to seal the wound. Now that the Prime had explained a little of Grimlock's personal history, I felt that I understood the titan a bit better than before. The mech had been pushed beyond his breaking point under Shockwave's treatments, and had pulled himself back together before he was completely lost. The experience changed him in a negative way, but the fact he did not let himself be reduced to a thoughtless monster proved his will to resist must be have been… Immense. I respected that; it made my own struggle with the Protocol seem almost trivial.

But unfortunately, what was reality and what _seemed_ like reality could be two completely different things.

Just as I finished sealing Optimus' injury, I saw Flightstorm and Cyberfrost enter the ops center with Wildwing, the mechling contentedly being carried by his sire.

"Shadowstreaker, did you _leave_ your courted to limp back to the med-bay on her own?" Flightstorm asked as he and his family moved over and stood next to Optimus and I.

"She insisted on bringing herself to the med-bay, told me twice to let her leave without me before I could say anything," I replied.

Cyberfrost and Flightstorm shared a look, then they both looked at me. "Rookie mistake," they echoed at the same time.

"What?" I asked. I obeyed Arcee's wishes—how was that bad?

The two neutrals smiled, but didn't answer before they looked at Optimus. "We—"

"Wanted to continue attempting to find an answer to your son's unusual behavior," the Prime interrupted calmly.

"Yes…" Cyberfrost said slowly, blinking at how Optimus correctly guessed the reason she and her mate were in the ops center with us. "How did you know that?"

"You waited patiently for me to construct the needed parts for your vessel, our time was cut short when I led the rescue mission, and I promised to help you find an answer," Optimus listed. He looked at Wildwing as the seekerlet get out of his sire's servos and climbed down to be next to Optimus, soon lying down at his uninjured side. "But I do not believe further questioning of Wildwing will be necessary. After spending time speaking with your son about his new behavior, and pondering my thoughts during and after the rescue mission, I am now convinced Wildwing is a Seer."

Wildwing's creators looked at Optimus in confusion, and I joined them; Wildwing stretched himself out against Optimus' side and started to nod off.

"What's a Seer?" Flightstorm asked.

"And how are you sure that Wildwing is one?" Followed up Cyberfrost.

"All that is known of Seers comes from the Matrix I carry. It has told me a Seer is a sentient who is able to see, know, and predict thoughts, feelings, and even events from both the past and the future," the Prime said. "Seers cannot explain how, where, or why such information comes to them, and rarely have they understood the significance of the knowledge they are gifted. Before Wildwing, there were only two Seers known among any being—Cybertronian or otherwise—to have ever existed: A femme in the Golden Age named Windrider; and an organic named Meralc of a race called the Chitor. I firmly believe Wildwing is the third Seer to be documented in our history."

I shared a surprised look with Cyberfrost and Flightstorm, then we all looked at the now-recharging Wildwing with a newfound wonder. Everything Optimus said fit with what Wildwing himself had shared. Not only was he experiencing a feeling he could not explain or understand, but he was receiving images and information he couldn't possibly have found out on his own; his numerous drawings and factual statements of events, feelings, and places he had no knowledge of proved that. Wildwing was a Seer, like Optimus said. I had no doubt about that, when I examined the facts we knew.

But the question was: If Wildwing was a Seer, who—or what—was providing the mechling with all of his new knowledge and strange, indescribable feelings?

"What will we have to do with him?" Asked Cyberfrost, breaking us from our own thoughts.

"Even the Matrix does not know," replied Optimus, looking down at the recharging seekerlet at his side. "Seers are so rare, the true potential of their abilities is unknown, as is the affect such knowledge may have on their long-term mental health. My personal recommendation is to have Wildwing examined on a regular basis, and to speak to me about every instance where he draws or feels something he does not understand. If the Matrix is allowed to monitor Wildwing's habits and progress with his abilities, it may allow the Matrix to formulate a better plan for Wildwing, and any other Seer in the future."

"For you to speak to Wildwing that much, he would need to stay here," Flightstorm concluded, tone clearly indicating he did not like the idea. I couldn't blame him for that—I would act the same way at even the suggestion I wouldn't see my son.

"I would never ask a creator to separate themselves from their creation. And yet, Wildwing's status as a Seer may prove to have importance none of us can imagine. Which is why I have an alternative suggestion for you two, and a potential offer to take to your captain," the Prime said, not looking up from Wildwing.

Flightstorm and Cyberfrost gave Optimus nearly identical looks.

"What kind of offer?" Asked the former Decepticon.

"And what type of suggestion?" Cyberfrost added.

Optimus finally looked back up at Wildwing's creators. "The offer and the suggestion are tied together. What I propose is that you return to Apex Sentinel and have a medic give Wildwing a short examination every solar-cycle, and have him write about every feeling he received he does not understand; however, in two jours, you will return to Earth for a period of time of your own choosing. You would bring copies of every note your medics wrote during Wildwing's examinations, every drawing and writing Wildwing created. He and I would then speak about every picture he created and every note he wrote, while my own medics would make certain of his physical and mental health while you are on Earth. In exchange for making the journey to Earth, each visit I will provide whatever resource the Apex Sentinel requires up to the quantity the Collected is able to safely carry. Is this compromise agreeable to you?"

Wildwing's creators were silent, though I could tell they were communicating through their sparkbond. Finally, Flightstorm said, "We both find the offer generous, and your willingness to monitor Wildwing's… Gift to be more than welcome, but…"

"We can't accept, not without approval from Delta," Cyberfrost carried on for her mate. "It wouldn't be right for us to make a decision like this without first consulting our captain."

"I understand and respect your decision to discuss the matter with your captain," said Optimus. "When I stand, I will give you a channel frequency for you to use to contact us with your definitive answer after you have discussed my proposal with Captain Delta."

"I wouldn't worry about getting us that frequency too quickly—we're not going anywhere for a while," Flightstorm said, looking at the ruined space bridge.

Optimus shook his helm. "I am going to begin repairs to the base within the breem. The only reason I am sitting now, is to allow my frame a little time to accept the repairs Shadowstreaker has given me."

I looked at the Prime in surprise. "Optimus, you have a giant hole in your side. That is going to take more than 'A little time' to repair. If you force yourself to stand, you'll just make the injury worse."

"And if I do not stand, our base will remain damaged," Optimus pointed out calmly, his attention now focused on me. "With the destruction of the space bridge and the console of our workstation, we have no communications, defenses, sensors, or effective transportation. The only way our base will be fully restored within a reasonable amount of time is to use the Forge of Solus Prime to create temporary systems to replace those that are damaged, and begin repairs to to the base once temporary systems are in place. And only I can use the Forge."

I internally sighed at how easily he defused my protest. With almost everyone down due to injuries, there was little we could do to repair the base. We could repair or restore many systems, of course, but the most vital ones would take an unreasonable amount of time. Even if it was going to be damaging to Optimus himself, his plan was still logical and would return the base to proper functionality in a relatively short period of time.

A crash from the hallway halted my thoughts, and we all looked at the hallway entrance. What was that?

"We told you letting Arcee walk there on her own was a rookie mistake," Flightstorm said factually, turning his attention on me.

I sighed and stood to my pedes. "I'll be back," I said, and walked into the hallway to investigate the noise, hoping it wasn't Arcee injuring herself on her way to the med-bay. Perhaps I really _should_ I have gone with her.

After moving further down the hallway, I came upon Arcee, and it was clear she had indeed been the source of the crash I heard.

She was lying on her tank, just starting to pick herself up off the floor. Her left pede was even more limp than it had been before, and I could tell she was wincing every time she moved it or her left hip even marginally. Something had given out in her hip or her pede, or maybe both of them.

Arcee rolled herself onto her backplates, faceplate set in a grimace of pain as she had to move her pede more than before. She noticed me standing near her at that point, and narrowed her optics. "I don't want to hear a _word_ from you."

I crouched next to her. "I should have ignored you when you said to treat Optimus instead of helping you."

"Probably, because my innermost femme emotions are somehow trying to pin the blame for this on you."

"So, by obeying what you told me to do, I am at fault for your pede giving out, even when I offered to help you before?" I asked, tone confused. That made absolutely no sense...

"That is what my emotions are saying to me," deadpanned Arcee. She crossed her servos. "And I am considering agreeing with them."

"How could I—oh, nevermind." I reached down and picked my courted up and carried her, being careful not to jostle her left pede or hip any more than I needed to. Then I started walking toward the med-bay.

Arcee examined my servos and hummed in thought. "I suppose this will make up for your earlier failure," she said evenly, bordering on a serious tone.

"Have your emotions forgiven me?"

"They are undecided. But, I believe the delivery of half a cube of high-grade may improve your chances of complete redemption," she joked.

"I'll take that over an outright, 'No,'" I said with a short chuckle.

Neither us said needed to say another word after that.

* * *

><p><strong>(Human calendar) July 16, 2013 8:18 P.M<strong>

**(Cybertronian date) 1103432 (Centivorns since the end of the Golden Age)**

**Decepticon base, three-hundred and fifty miles northeast of Madagascar**

Shockwave made his way through his secret laboratory, his single optic taking note of every electrical system that would need to be replaced.

Many breems had past since the failed mission to recover Ultra Magnus, Broadside, and the Dinobots. The lowest level of Base Zetta-3 had been drained of seawater in that time, and repairs to damaged or ruined systems were ongoing; repairs to the doors Grimlock had broken had yet to begin. But that was a task Shockwave would have the automated systems of his secret laboratory see to—the optics of normal drones would see things they were not meant to.

Not until the time was right for him to strike.

Since before the war had broken out on Cybertron, Shockwave had been Megatron's most loyal follower—the first to carry out his orders. When Megatron required a city-state to be devoted to the Decepticon cause, Shockwave made sure its citizens became willing to give up anything to fight the Autobots. When Megatron wanted bots to stop protesting the tyrannical rule and moral code of Decepticons, Shockwave personally saw to the punishment to the masses; he also would execute the ringleaders if Megatron was not available. Countless times, Shockwave turned Autobots against their allies, or used them as unwilling tools or bombs against Optimus Prime and his followers.

But times were changing—the war had dragged on long enough for Shockwave's tastes; Megatron's use to him was running out rapidly. The time was fast approaching for Shockwave to cast aside the cloak of false loyalty he had hidden his own ambitions, goals, and desires behind since before the war, and usurp the title of Lord of the Decepticons from Megatron.

Under his leadership, Shockwave knew he would be able to pacify the Autobots at last, reform the Decepticons, and create the ideal Cybertronian civilization—free of both freedom and scientific stagnation. A new Golden Age of economic prosperity and scientific research would commence, ushering in fantastic advancements in technology. Advanced treatments would turn all military personnel into super-soldiers loyal to Shockwave and Shockwave alone, securing him firmly as the ultimate ruler and leader. Countless fleets of thousands of ships would conquer any planet with resources of value, and return Cybertron to its status as the most dominating superpower within a hundred galaxies.

In the centi-vorns since the war began, Shockwave had slowly gained the loyalty and respect of many important individuals in the Decepticon ranks. Chiefly among these were the Warlords Thunderwing, Slipstream, Straxus, and Grindcore. Their fleets, armies, and the resources of their conquered worlds secretly were loyal to Shockwave and not Megatron. They were very powerful allies, and their voices carried great weight among the Decepticons in the Triangulum and Andromeda Galaxies.

However, even with the support of his secret followers, Shockwave's ultimate goal was currently unreachable. While all data and logical conclusions pointed to Shockwave being the most efficient and effective choice as leader of the Decepticons—and some had come to realize this—most did not agree. Megatron inspired a fanatical loyalty from most of his followers—ninety-nine point point one percent of all Decepticons overwhelmingly approved of the former gladiator's leadership; the remaining point nine percent knew better than to say anything against Megatron. And no matter how powerful his allies were, Shockwave would not be able to overcome sheer numbers.

Shockwave also held no illusions that he would be able to openly confront Optimus Prime and come out victorious. The Prime was Megatron's opposite in every way, yet he was the stronger of the two warring brothers. Not physically—Megatron beat him in that—but in personal restraint, capability for compassion and mercy, raw intelligence, and tactical finesse.

All but the final two traits were useless, but they inspired a loyalty almost as powerful as Megatron's—one that was truly genuine and borderline zealous in nature. No matter how many Autobots fell, as long as the Prime was online, the Autobot cause lived on to gain more followers. And as long as Optimus lived, Megatron would hunt him no matter where the hunt took him.

The conflict between the two brothers was both what allowed Shockwave's plans to be possible, and the reason they were just out of reach. He needed Optimus Prime to offline and demoralize the Autobots, but perhaps the only mech who may have been capable of doing so would destroy Shockwave's own plans for leadership by solidifying his superiority over all other rivals—Shockwave included—by offlining the mortal enemy of the Decepticons. His plans were in an unending limbo between success and failure.

What Shockwave required was insurance that in the end, he had an advantage against both Optimus and Megatron that neither of them were aware of—an advantage he could use to topple both, if necessary.

The scientist continued on through his secret laboratory, examining experiments and the Ferals he had locked away when Grimlock began to break out of the most secure area of the lab. Then he came to a massive duraglass container in the middle of one of the rooms the Autobots had nearly demolished on their way out of the lab.

A mixture of sediment and seawater was inside the container, and on top of the sediment, the legendary Star Saber was lying in the exact same position it had fallen when it was dropped by Optimus Prime.

After the Autobots fled the battle which claimed multiple gunships, Shockwave ordered a troop transport equipped with a container to report to his location. It arrived as ordered, and created a crater around the Star Saber that was twenty meters in diameter. Then it merely closed the container around the weapon, and returned to Base Zetta-3 with the Star Saber safely held behind the duraglass, away from the servos the Ancient artifact deemed unworthy to even touch it.

Shockwave read the report Soundwave filed for Megatron after the Decepticons' current leader attempted to recover weapons of the Ancients, and taken particular note of the apparent defense systems installed into the artifacts. Such security was brilliant. If any undesirable made contact with an object deemed important and given the countermeasure, the object would simply crumble to dust, preventing the undesirable from laying their hands or servos on what they desired.

But Shockwave had not touched the weapon during its recovery, and now it was in his possession. The scientist had seen the blade in use, and never had he seen a personal weapon equal to its power. If a mech like himself had been able to use the Star Saber, it would have given him more than adequate insurance against both Optimus Prime and Megatron; neither of the mechs would withstand the Star Saber's power when it was focused on them.

Unfortunately, the Star Saber was evidently restricted to the use of a Prime—studying it from behind a container would have to do. He likely would learn little of use from the Ancient artifact, but that was, perhaps, for the best. It was, after all, illogical to stake the success of centi-vorns of planning on the ability to use a single weapon.

However, that was precisely what Shockwave had done.

When he captured Grimlock and his unit, Shockwave immediately saw their potential for his Dinobot Program. They were stronger and more aggressive than any other Autobots, and few Decepticons could match the ferocity they brought into battle; their wills were admirably powerful. They were warriors before they were Autobots, and the Autobots knew and respected that. Shockwave expected that, when the treatments began, the warrior qualities of then-Lightning Strike Coalition Force would be amplified along with the strength of their new frames, while also reducing their intelligence. From there, it would be easy to manipulate their CPUs into believing loyalty to Shockwave would give them unending opponents to prove their skills as fighters against.

Unfortunately, Shockwave overestimated their ability to withstand the operations required for the full success of the Dinobot Program; their frames could not withstand the punishment. He created new frames for them, but even then the treatments increased the strength of their new frames was only moderately; their intelligence remained nearly the same as before.

Grimlock's transformation into a super-soldier, however, was nearly a complete success physically, but his CPU was the least effected by the treatments. He now harbored a hatred for Shockwave that no one else could truly understand, simply because of its intensity. If they were within a hundred kilometers of one another, Grimlock would hunt Shockwave with a steadfast determination—Shockwave knew from experience.

The scientist looked down at the Pulse Cannon that made up his left servo, the only permanent injury Shockwave had ever received. It was given to him by Grimlock, when the newly-renamed Dinbots escaped his tower on Cybertron. Shockwave had been watching their progress from an observatory at another location, treating Grimlock's brutal slaughter of the Decepticons in his way as nothing more than an unexpected, yet controllable test.

Shockwave had been wrong.

Grimlock offlined hundreds of Decepticons that cycle, overcoming the strongest obstacles Shockwave could place in his path as he relentlessly searched for the scientist. And eventually, he found Shockwave, more than ninety kilometers away from where Grimlock and his Dinobots had been held. Shockwave attempted to offline Grimlock with security systems contained within the room, but the massive mech simply destroyed them and overpowered Shockwave. The Dinobot leader then tore Shockwave's left servo off and beat him with it until the armor of his chestplates cracked, his pedes were broken, and his tank was ruptured. Grimlock would have offlined him there, if not for the timely arrival of a Decepticon heavy frigate Shockwave had called for evacuation klicks before the Dinobots' arrival. The frigate fought the Dinobots—mostly Grimlock—off, and took Shockwave away to mend his extensive injuries.

Since that cycle, he had been trying to find a way to force Grimlock into his service—the other Dinobots were secondary. Having a loyal attack Cyberhound with power like Grimlock's would be invaluable when Shockwave ousted Megatron's command, and would give Shockwave a hidden advantage against Megatron's forces. When Shockwave finally tracked down and recaptured Grimlock and his Dinobots again a little more than vorn ago, he made sure to keep them in maximum security cells at all times—even when he conducted further experiments to force their loyalty he did not move them.

But, nothing he used to try bending Grimlock's will to his had worked; the changes to his frame overrode Shockwave's efforts beyond sabotaging the massive mech's ability to transform. If anything, the new experiments made him stronger—that conclusion was supported by the destruction around Shockwave. This led to Shockwave enacting his last resort: The Clean Slate.

The Clean Slate was Shockwave's final hope of harnessing Grimlock and the Dinobots' power. It involved heavily sedating the Autobots, removing and destroying their CPUs and sparks, and replacing their CPUs with basic, dumb processors that were easily programmed to be absolutely loyal to Shockwave. It would greatly reduce the combat effectiveness of the Dinobots, Grimlock in particular, but they would still be very powerful servants. And when Shockwave also unexpectedly found Ultra Magnus and a number of Wreckers while traveling in the Dark Matter, Shockwave eagerly added the Wrecker commander of the strongest individual Wrecker to the Clean Slate—they would have been a useful psychological tool against the Autobots.

Yet, not even the Clean Slate was available to Shockwave. Grimlock and the Dinobots had escaped, and Ultra Magnus and Broadside had gone with him. The Dinobot Program was a total loss, and Shockwave had nothing to show for the vast resources he had invested into it. He had no new force of completely loyal super-soldiers, no new play against Megatron and Optimus Prime, and he had no way to decrease the massive disparity in the number of his followers compared to Megatron's.

The thought of numbers created a new thought, and Shockwave looked across the room, where the Universal Bridge sat. If he was to make the Bridge work and gather resources and technology from other realities, what prevented him from taking on new subjects for use in experiments?

They would be untraceable, limitless in numbers, and potentially could have qualities and abilities not seen in this reality. Shockwave could take them from their home realities, study them, implant them with the inhibitors he attempted to use on Grimlock, and _make_ them loyal to him before augmenting them. He would likely be limited to capturing organic races, but in the world of science, everything could change. If he needed them to be organics, they would remain organics; if he needed them to be mechanical, they would be mechanical. It would take time for such modifications, but in the end, they would be what _he_ _wanted_ them to be.

Through the use of the Universal Bridge, the Dinobot Program may not be a total loss. It could be reformed, improved. It would be turned into something far larger and more powerful, and produce _far_ more than just five altered mechs with the strength of multiple bots.

_Project:Predacon_… Would make armies.

Shockwave turned his thoughts away from the prospect of the Bridge. Currently, the Universal Bridge was plagued by a problem Shockwave lacked the ability to solve: How to actually enter different realities and return safely. Even entering alternate realities was beyond him. Using the Universal Bridge was a logical answer to his problem, of course, but his inability to solve the difficulties that prevented it from unlocking physical portals to different realities made it an unobtainable goal. And it was illogical to create ambitions and plans when an insurmountable obstacle made them impossible to complete.

… Or were they not impossible?

An idea began to form in Shockwave's CPU, and he looked back to the Star Saber—a weapon said to be sharp enough to cut atoms at will—with a calculating, if thoughtful gaze.

Perhaps the Star Saber could be more useful than he thought.

* * *

><p><strong>July 15, 2013 10:40 P.M<strong>

**S.T.F 141 Headquarters, deep in the Rocky Mountains, Wyoming**

Lieutenant General Lance Shepherd sat at his desk, flipping through reports as he always did in the late hours of the night on Fort Creed, one of many bases created exclusively for use by the S.T.F.

Fort Creed was less than three years old, but it was also perhaps the most advanced human military installation currently in existence. It was more than twenty-six miles from any form of civilization, and built into two sections. One was built into a mountain—protected by more than a mile of rock above—and one was built alongside the mountain.

The outside section of Fort Creed had two, thirteen thousand foot-long runways that were wide enough for the largest planes the S.T.F designed to land with no issue—hangers built into the mountain could house up to four-hundred and forty aircraft. Buildings for personnel and land vehicles were also outside. Testing grounds for prototype tanks, APCs, and aircraft were located north of the base, even further away from civilization. Numerous firing ranges, both for infantry and for armed vehicles, were scattered throughout the base. One firing range was for experimental weapons only, and it was more than five miles in length; soldiers stationed at Fort Creed tended to call it, 'Curvature,' due to the fact the end of the range would be beyond the curvature of the Earth if it was at sea level.

The inside section of Ford Creed was built mostly for security and intelligence purposes. Its sensors could tell the difference between a Rabbit and a Hare more than ten miles away, and knew when something as small as a Gnat was in its airspace. The most advanced missile shield the S.T.F had ever designed protected the base from missile strikes, even when the base was rated to not only survive a nuclear blast from several miles away, but remain fully functional after taking a direct hit from a Russian R-36 ICBM. A collection of supercomputers were housed within its rocky walls, cracking most encrypted data in seconds, or simply unlocking messages from secure channels. A large room in the center of the base housed the main communications and satellite hub. A number of laboratories and assembly plants were also in the inside portion of Fort Creed, creating the advanced equipment, materials, weaponry, and everyday technology the S.T.F fielded and researched for future use.

Shepherd read several reports within a minute; he had always been a speed reader. Many reports were useless or bland, as they should have been—it would be a bad sign if every report the General received was noteworthy. But he paused for a moment as he picked up a report from Captain Johnston, the Navy officer who officially ran the newly-refitted Diego Garcia.

After the Decepticon attack on the Al Udied Air Base four years ago, the United States set new security requirements for all military installations and reevaluated the defenses of each military base they operated overseas by using drills to simulate attacks against each installation one by one—most were found to be inadequately defended with the new security standards set in place.

Within a month of the reevaluations, Congress authorized the funds necessary to bring all overseas military bases up to the new standard. Localized missile shields were created, advanced sensors, anti-tank, and anti-infantry systems were deployed, all types of equipment were hardened against EMP attacks, and prototype barricades and new materials for walls and buildings were set in place. Many Naval bases were increased in size so that even Nimitz-class or the new Gerald R. Ford-class aircraft carriers could make port and resupply.

Diego Garcia was one of these bases, but it was one of several locations around the world that Shepherd had established a presence for the S.T.F. This resulted in the island seeing more development than most other Naval bases: A water treatment facility and distillery had been constructed, providing the population of the base all of its water needs and treating all waste and sewage created; a system of anti-air and anti-missile systems were spaced along the entire island; a state-of-the-art radar and sonar system could tell the difference between an insect and an F-22 Raptor more than a hundred nautical miles away; Camp Thunder Cove had been expanded greatly—it now had two full battalions of Marines equipped and ready to deploy into any type of battle; the Camp's capacity for deploying and servicing air assets had seen similar expansion, and seven-hundred and fifty bombers, multi-role fighters, strategic bombers, stealth bombers, long-range, stealth drones, experimental aircraft, and even several X-47Cs were on Diego Garcia on any given point.

The port had been expanded as well, and upto three Nimitz or Gerald R. Ford-class carriers or as many as five Tarawa, Wasp, or America-class amphibious assault ships could dock at the same time. Upto ten Ticonderoga-class cruisers, Oliver Hazard Perry-class frigates, or Arleigh Burke-class destroyers could be docked along with the carriers without interfering with the now-thirty-three support vessels deployed at any given moment to Diego Garcia. However, only three warships were currently docked to the base: The USS Port Royal; the USS Halsey; and the USS Wayne E. Meyer.

The number would have been four, if the Michael Murphy had still been afloat.

Since the Murphy's disappearance, the world's powers had been on high alert: Russia had become a black hole to the outside world, as its government had a talent for doing; China had tripled its naval activity within its maritime borders and beyond, escalating tensions in the region even further; India was demanding to know what happened in its own backyard; Israel locked down its borders; North Korea wanted to honor whoever sunk the Murphy, and was throwing around threats of war as South Korea stepped up its military activity; and the United States and the other nations of NATO were preparing for an attack from anywhere—even each other. War could break out unless heads of state kept their heads clear, and any personal egos or hatreds in check.

Just another day on Earth.

The hardened, landline phone on Shepherd's desk beeped, signaling one of his aides wanted to speak with him.

Shepherd answered the call. "Go," he said simply, beginning to read the report from Captain Johnston. It seemed the man suspected the Michael Murphy was sunk by Decepticons, something Shepherd already knew as fact.

The voice who answered the General's statement was that of Major Briar, the senior of Shepherd's two aides. _"Sir, Director Galloway just arrived at the base—he's on his way to you, now."_

There were few things that could make General Shepherd curse. Not type of curse used in the military's almost universal language of obscenities, but a true, personal curse that was absolutely unnecessary and could only be heard by him. Galloway's arrival at Ford Creed was one that consistently could cause such remarks.

"Understood," was all Shepherd said in response. He then doubled-checked to make sure his desk and chair were perfectly centered—which they always were—placed his hands on his desk, and stared at his door. Considering how far Major Briar's station was from Shepherd's office, and how fast Galloway tended to walk, the Director of National Intelligence would arrive in three… Two…

On cue, the General's door flew open, admitting Theodore Galloway into the room. He stood six inches shorter than Shepherd, and was about thirty pounds lighter. Bags under his eyes made him look older than the General was, despite the act he was ten years Shepherd's junior. His rapidly thinning, greying brown hair had receded to the top of his scalp. Demanding and somewhat intelligent brown gazed out from behind thin eyebrows and glasses. His blue-grey suit had more threads per square inch than Shepherd had dollars in his bank account, and it looked freshly cleaned. A blue, striped tie hung loosely from his collar due to his suit jacket hanging open. In his hand, he carried a metal briefcase.

"Director Galloway," General Shepherd said, tone neutral. "What brings you this far out from Washington?"

"You know damn well what brings me this collection of stinking Mole tunnels you call a base," Galloway snapped, and Shepherd _did_ know what brought him there. The Director dropped his briefcase onto the desk, scoffing the finish of the Kingwood furniture that Shepherd paid for from his own pocket. Galloway opened the briefcase, reached in, and dropped a file in front of Shepherd, the same file that made him pause before—Captain Johnston's report.

"Your Autobot friends really screwed up this time," Galloway said after dropping the file.

Having read the file already, Shepherd pushed it to the side and fixed a heavy look on the Director of National Intelligence. "It's hard for them to screw something up when they didn't even _know_ about the Michael Murphy."

Galloway scoffed and paced in front of the desk. "Three-hundred and twenty-three dead—including the captain, who was the son of a Senator from Virginia; global tensions running high and calls for war already being shouted; and one US military vessel sunk without warning. And where were the Autobots when United States lost a billion dollar vessel—a _billion_ dollar ship?!"

Lives were numbers; money was precious. Shepherd thought that thought process was unfortunately common among many politicians. "Fifty to sixty miles away, on a rescue op for seven of their own who had escaped the Decepticon base the Autobots warned us of last year."

While Shepherd had not actually spoken to any Autobot on base, he had managed to send a message through an old channel that used Morse Code, and received a response from Optimus Prime. Their base was damaged and without proper communications because their own return to base flooded parts of the structure, and nearly all of them were wounded. But the Autobot leader made it clear they did not even know a human ship had been in the region when they rescued their captured brethren, and the Prime passed on their sympathies for the loss of life. Optimus also offered to have a more thorough discussion of the day's events, both on the end of the Autobots and humanity's, in the future; Shepherd planned on taking the Prime up on the offer, when his incredibly busy schedule allowed.

"So they were in the area—they could have saved the Michael Murphy, and didn't."

"As I said, they were on a rescue op."

"But they could have saved the Michael Murphy if they wanted to—if they had been an _official_ military unit."

"A unit's official status does not effect its ability in combat, you know that."

"But it _does_ effect it."

"Stop reaching for your desired answer, it's hard to watch," said the General, tone calm, hands folded neatly around each other.

Galloway crossed his arms, face set in a frown; he never could take Shepherd's ability to know when he was looking for a certain choice of words. "Reaching or not, you haven't given me a reason not to reach—my original question wasn't answered."

"Do you listen when someone responds to you, or do you just hear the words you want?" Shepherd asked. "I told you the Autobots were in the area, yes, but they were on their own mission to rescue seven other Autobots who escaped captivity from the nearby Decepticon base. Nearly all of them were wounded during the mission, and they didn't even know they were in within a hundred miles of a human ship until I contacted them."

"Well, isn't that reassuring—our guardians in shining armor are down with _bobos_ and _papercuts!_" Galloway yelled, leaning down to get in Shepherd's face. "The Autobots were supposed to _prevent_ another Al Udied Air Base disaster! Not sit on the sidelines as it happened _right next_ to them!"

The General looked down at the two hands planted on either side of his own, then his ice-blue eyes stared into Galloway's brown ones. "Get _off_ my _desk._"

The Director held Shepherd's gaze for a moment in bravado, but he could take no more of the icy stare being sent his way and stood to his full height. He straightened his tie after taking his hands off the desk—Shepherd knew that was a nervous habit of his.

"Let me explain something to you, _Director._" Shepherd put a bit more emphasis on the word, as if it was sour and he wanted to spit it out. "I have followed the movements of the Autobots since the S.T.F was formed, and I have seen a lot of footage of them in action. I have seen them ripping Decepticons in half; I have seen them take out the eye of a Decepticon from the top of a mountain simply because the curvature of the Earth makes it impossible to see their target otherwise; I have seen the slowest and weakest of them use speed and have strength we would consider superhuman, if we were the same size; and I have seen them take punishment a dozen of our best tanks couldn't handle and come out almost unscathed. And not one time have I ever seen or heard of an Autobot complain about a single injury they sustained. They are out of action, but not because of 'Bobos' and 'Papercuts.' So, politely, keep your mouth shut the next time you think to insult their ability to take pain—especially when the worst injury I've seen you take is a stubbed toe on a trash can. That doesn't qualify as a damn bullet."

Theodore's demanding air deflated a tiny amount at the General's words, but he reinflated himself quickly. "It's their job to be soldiers; it's my job to tell them what to do. But I can't do _that_ job if the Autobots can't do _theirs._"

"They fight the Decepticons almost daily, and have kept them distracted from humanity for the last four years. Does that not qualify as, 'Their job''?" Asked Shepherd. "Or do you expect them to know when you change a destroyer's course, and come to its rescue when that same destroyer kicks up a hornet's nest?"

Galloway's face went blank.

"Don't look surprised," the General continued. "You're standing inside the S.T.F—it's our job to know things. The search zone for the MV Sea Dog should have been fifty nautical miles north of where Command ordered them, but you saw the search as an opportunity, didn't you? You've wanted to know how close we can get to that Decepticon base since you first heard of it. You modified the Michael Murphy's orders before its captain received them, had them travel further south. But that wasn't enough, was it? You activated its Remote Control protocols and gave it a nudge to the south, just to see what would happen. You used a code we created to be used by Presidential authority and Presidential authority _only._" Shepherd leaned forward, eyes boring into Galloway's skull like a drill. "I should arrest you for not following that protocol, then put you in front of a damn _firing squad_ for getting more than three-hundred of our men and women killed."

The Director of National Intelligence adjusted his tie again and unbuttoned the top of his collar. He had lost all color in his face, and the sweat on his head revealed how nervous he was to any casual observer. "The President has already cleared me of any actions I may or may not have taken; the captain chose to go further south on his own."

The General clenched his hands at the technicality, but said nothing and continued staring at Theodore. The man had ultimately caused three-hundred deaths, and was trying to blame someone else for them. Pointing fingers—something else common in politicians.

Galloway stood uncomfortably for a moment, then reached into his briefcase again and pulled out another file. It was red and had the thickness of a small book, and was sealed with a metal binder. "With their failure to save the Michael Murphy, it has come to the attention of the Committee that we can no longer rely or trust the Autobots on the level we currently do," he said, directing the conversation away from his own deeds. He dropped the file on the desk with a loud thud, showing how heavy it really was. "We've already prepared for such an event."

Shepherd looked at the file Galloway evidently delivered from the Committee, the heads of state of each nation that was part of the S.T.F and a team of advisers of their choosing; it served as the official head of the S.T.F, since no single nation could say the S.T.F belonged to them. He unclasped the file's binder and opened it, flipping the page every few seconds as he examined everything in the file.

It was a collection of diagrams, measurements, technical specifications, potential building materials, technologies, and compatible weapon systems for use in building several different, humanoid-looking machines that had cockpits for pilots—they weren't unlike bulkier, lesser armed and armored Cybertronians.

The General's eyes flicked to the title at the top of the page.

It read, _'Project:Mecha.'_

Shepherd closed the file and returned his attention to Galloway. "This had better be a sick joke, Director."

"It's no joke, _General,_" replied Galloway, returning the favor for the tone Shepherd had used before. "The Committee has had this plan in place since the Al Udied Air Base was turned to a glass parking lot. And thanks to the massive amount of alien corpses we've been able to study, the excellent work of S.T.F's scientists, and _our_ funding,_ Project:Mecha_ can be a reality."

"What you're talking about is beyond even the S.T.F's reach. Both the Autobots and Decepticons are countless of millennia ahead of us technologically—we can't even recreate technology they use _everyday._"

"Maybe so, but your scientists have reported that our own robotics technology has advanced a year every month since the S.T.F was formed," said Galloway.

"This isn't unlike the goals Arkeville had in mind," pointed out Shepherd coolly. "In fact, this is _exactly_ what he wanted; and what we worked to _destroy._"

"We have different motivations. He wanted to create a new world order; we want to secure our survival against the aliens." The Director recrossed his arms, fully regaining his confidence from Shepherd's earlier rebuke. "And now's the perfect time to take the first _actual_ step to obtaining that goal. The world's crying out for protection, and we have the advanced robotics, materials, computers, and weapons that can give them that protection. We already would have given it to the world, if _you_ made more helical railguns—you've already shown how they might be able to kill the aliens."

"'Might' is a keyword in that statement. The only Cybertronians we have tested the helical railguns against are drones—full Cybertronians wouldn't be so easily injured," said the General, leaning back to his proper posture. "And the fact each helical railgun like the one we used in those tests costs a quarter of a billion dollars has something to do with lack of production. With what you're envisioning, the materials alone would be twice S.T.F's annual budget per twenty-five units."

Galloway smiled thinly, and along with the look in his eyes, he looked like the animal Shepherd associated him with: A Snake. He pulled out another file, this one thinner than the other two, and dropped it on the desk. "A list of countries who previously skipped out on becoming a part of the S.T.F, and now are asking to provide men and money," he explained, smile widening like the Snake inside him was about to eat a Mouse. "The S.T.F's budget just increased by ninety-three percent, and we have yet to hear from Japan, Australia, Taiwan, and South Korea."

While Shepherd was thankful more countries were joining the S.T.F, the price of their admission was going to be too high. "That is still not enough."

"We know, which is why the Committee is ordering you to put a stop to all projects besides the ongoing upgrades to existing military forces, and _Mecha._"

Shepherd narrowed his eyes. "Those projects lead to saving or providing _trillions_ of dollars in the long-term. Not only that, they will make entire militaries self-sufficient of fuel and supply lines; soldiers fight more effectively when they don't need to worry where their next meal or magazine will come from."

The Director waved a hand dismissively. "All of them will be pointless when _Mecha_ is completed and starts to rollout units."

No, no they wouldn't be. The Committee was not accounting for the costs of maintenance, the long-term affects on pilots, the logistics of creating _Mecha_, and what chaos it would create across the world when the first, human-made, powered combat walker went active. Their potential for battle was tremendous, but how many wars would break out simply because other nations felt threatened?

How many nations with access _to Mecha_ would feel threatened?

"Director, I acknowledge the Autobots are not infallible or invincible—Shadowstreaker's death in May proves that—but they have been fighting the Decepticons since dinosaurs walked the Earth. They know their tactics, their weaknesses, and their true combat capabilities. Despite the fact they can't be perfect, they are the best chance we have against the Decepticons—the best chance for _everyone. Project:Mecha_ will only put humanity back on the Decepticons' crosshairs. I ask this of you, not as a subordinate, not as a prideful man, and not as a rival, but as a man who has seen war for more than thirty years: Don't make me carry out this program. I will _not_ _stand_ for needlessly putting men and women in harm's way, not after seeing what the Decepticons can do to anything less than the Autobots." Shepherd paused, debated if he should add something else, then said, "Right now, you and I are allies, Galloway, I agree with little you say, but you're my ally. But if you have me do this, if you make me create suits for men and women to die for you, then you and I… We're going to become enemies. And you _don't_ want me as an enemy,_ Director._"

Galloway huffed, unimpressed. Then he closed his briefcase and picked it up. "You have six months to start making progress. If you can't produce, the Committee will find someone who can." He walked out of the office with a noticeable saunter, as if he just won a political debate with an opponent and now was going to look good to the press and the unsuspicious public. Then he was gone.

After the Director left, Shepherd leaned heavily into his chair—a headache was already forming. He was now being ordered to, sooner or later, to send numerous soldiers to their deaths. Normally, that prospect didn't bother him so much; he was a general, he was used to it. But the fact he would be sending those soldiers up against an enemy so far beyond humanity's technological capabilities that Earth could be conquered by as few as a hundred of them, made Shepherd more wary than he had been in a long, long time. Yet if he stepped down or refused to comply with the command he was given, someone else may send a hundred times more soldiers to their deaths as Shepherd would. What was worse, that same enemy wouldn't stop at just the soldiers sent against them—they would send humanity to extinction in the blink of an eye.

It all made Shepherd want a drink.

Standing from his desk, the General walked to a nearby cabinet, grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass, filled the glass with the strong alcohol after adding some ice, and returned to his desk. He sipped the strong drink like water, then opened a drawer and grabbed a cigar and lit it with a lighter that had been next to the cigars; smoking had been an on-and-off habit of his since he joined he lied about his age and joined the Army at sixteen. He needed a few draws after Galloway's visit.

As Shepherd enjoyed his whiskey and cigar, a man in his late forties wearing an ACU designed specifically for the S.T.F stepped into view and leaned against the doorway. He was of average height, average build, and average looks. His eyes were brown, and carried a wide variety of emotions at the appropriate time. His hair was almost the same color as his eyes, and was longer than regulation for most militaries. He had no beard or facial hair of any kind. He looked, to the average eye, an unremarkable and harmless man.

However, few saw the danger that lurked behind his expressive eyes even when they learned the man—General-Major Vadim Avilov, Shepherd's SIC—used to be Russian Spetsnaz, the Russian Federation's equivalent to the United States' Green Berets.

"Was Director Galloway as charming as usual?" Vadim asked, his deep voice carrying almost no accent. "Do I have to spit in his face like when he demand I call him, 'Sir'?

"Worse," said Shepherd, face lighting up as he sucked in a breath through his cigar.

"How bad?"

"Terrible."

"Explain to me."

Shepherd took in another breath, and let it out through his nose, surrounding his face in smoke that should have burned his eyes, yet didn't. "The S.T.F has been ordered to start producing robotic mechs for soldiers to pilot and use against the Decepticons."

Vadim went silent, his face unreadable. He stepped into his superior's office, but continued to be silent.

Shepherd, knowing his SIC, pulled out another cigar and handed it to Vadim. "There's some vodka in the cabinet."

* * *

><p><strong>*Flips through mental notes* This seems to be all the plot elements for a while. Huh. I'll take that as a cue to work on what I have.<strong>

**Alright, so I have just one thing to say down here: I am taking a month off. ****No, not the month off you'd think, but a month off THIS story - my favorite story I've written or will write.**

**Let me explain. Back when I was writing 'Journeys,' I decided I was going to put Fate Calls on hold until I finished the first draft of my novel. But I decided I'd do both after I wrote Journeys in a short amount of time compared to how long it is. It was right after I made that decision, that my writing progress went to crap. Nothing flowed, motivation came and went. And you all can see where that ended up. Yes, I've written chapters, but they are a lot less than I wanted to do, and they took way longer than I wanted them to. For this reason, I'm going to force myself to focus on my novel for a while. You might think that won't help with my speed in writing, but I am going to get weird here.**

**When I was writing the chapter following Journeys - 'Home' - I decided I would go with my initial decision and work on my novel whenever I finished the chapter.**

**The day following this decision I wrote 3,400 words and finished the chapter.**

**Once this happened, I decided I would actually work on both projects, mostly on Fate Calls.**

**It took more than two months to finish the chapter before this one, and I only finished it because I decided I would work a bit more on my novel.**

**I then decided about four to five days later that I would return to working on Fate Calls and the rewrite of Last of the Wyrms.**

**The rewrite of Last of the Wyrms took FIVE months, this chapter took nearly three months to write, and I only got any real progress done on it after I decided, for the third and final time, I would focus solely on my novel.**

**I've written about 30,000 words on this chapter in the last three weeks. If that isn't supposed to tell me something, I don't know what is. Have... Have any of you ever _felt_ like you _needed_ to do something? You couldn't explain _why_ you needed to, only that you _had_ to do it. That's what I feel like when I think about my novel, and I consider when I look at my writing progress on Fate Calls and Last of the Wyrms, and how quickly a steady pace disappears when I decide not to work on my novel. I feel like this is something I _NEED_ to do.**

**Don't get me wrong; I'm not abandoning any of my stories. In fact, my writing tomorrow looks like this: Edit and post rewritten Last of the Wyrms prologue; work on detailed outline of Fate Calls including names of places, weapons, metals, objects, characters, plots, and ideas; a rough outline of Last of the Wyrms; and a reworked outline and collection of ideas for my novel. Those things are going to take a while to write, but after that, I am going to start a what I am calling a Hard Month, where I write 1,500 to 2,000 words on my novel every single day, with room to write two or even three times that, on a good day. Then I will probably see how my muse reacts to starting the first, real chapter on Last of the Wyrms before returning to what will always be my favorite project: Fate Calls. Be patient and don't panic - I'm not going anywhere.**

**Sorry for the long note, but I felt I needed to explain why I am going to focus on my novel for a month.**

**This chapter's credit song is "R. Armando Morabito - Rising Force" This song, while fitting with Shadowstreaker and Arcee's ending part, does fit with the two scenes I have following that one. The percussion is right, the ominous theme is there, and the vocals send a chill down your spin. It's a fantastic song.**

**Please take a moment to leave a review to give any type of feedback you want: constructive criticism; what you liked you didn't like; where I went wrong or where I went right; suggestions for how to use hyphens, colons, and semi-colons. I appreciate everything.**

**Thank you for reading, and have an excellent day and or night. :)**

**See you soon.**


	40. Clearing the Air

**Welp, seems I can't reverse how long it takes me to write a chapter. At least I am having a lot of fun with each one, though.**

**Sorry for taking a long time with this one *again*. I really have no excuse besides my muse being a bugger. Really not nice.**

**Thank you, all my reviewers, followers and... Favoriters? *doesn't think that's a word* Fate Calls is continuing to grow in terms of readers and favorites, and it's obviously all thanks to you. Thank you all. :)****  
><strong>

**guest - Wow. Favorite person on Earth? I feel like that's extreme - I'm just a guy who loves writing. :)**

**And I TRY to work on three at once, but only this one seems to progress regularly. Not sure why.**

**Thank you for reviewing and I hope you enjoy this update!**

**greatitsthatguy - It's totally fine; sometimes what we say comes across in a way we don't mean.**

**Hope this update is worth the wait like the last one, in your own words!**

**Guest (Chapter 37) - The Insecticons in general. I meant for that line to be the "reveal" of the scene, and it was easy to use since they had it in Fall of Cybertron.**

**Thank you for reviewing.**

**Guest (Chapter 9) - 1: You are reading chapters that were written more than two years ago; they are far from good or consistent. And 2: I actually watch whatever episode my chapters are based on, and rewatch it multiple times. Chapters of this story are not meant to be a perfect retelling of Prime (If it was, why wouldn't I just watch the show?). I change events to fit my own story. Sometimes these changes are minor, and sometimes they are major, as you can probably see by now if you are still reading.**

**Thank you for reviewing, and I hope this clarifies a few things for you.**

**Guest (Chapter 10) - I am aware. Everything up to chapter 20 needs to be rewritten, in my book. My ealry work has too many errors and too much sloppy work for it to represent what I write now.**

**Thanks for reviewing.**

**Guest (Chapter 11) - I have mostly phased out "responded" from my current work; it just doesn't flow very well.**

**Thanks for leaving feedback.**

**Guest (Chapter 12) - Thank you, both for the statement and the review.**

**Guest (Chapter 34) - Indeed. It is... Problematic.**

**Thanks for the review.**

**Guest (Chapter 35) - Actually, that is not correct. SMGs in the Transformers universe has no set name or function - the only examples of SMGs I can think of off the top of my head are Subsonic Repeater as you mentioned already. However, those only exist in War for Cybertron, Fall of Cybertron, and Rise of the Dark Spark. They do not exist anywhere else in the Transformers franchise. Their existence also does not mean they are the only SMGs Cybertronians ever created. Secura's SMGs are not Subsonic Repeaters, otherwise I would have just called them so. I invent weapons when I desire something new, and I decided to add something new for Secura.**

**Thanks for leaving a review.**

**Guest (Chapter 26) - I never saw the movie because of what I heard said about it. Everyone I talked to found it a big disappointment, and the ending a huge letdown that went against the canon they had already set up. I had no desire to see it after that. However, I bet that line itself was hilarious to hear. Haha.**

**Thank you for the review.**

**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.**

* * *

><p><strong>July 28, 2013 1:41 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

Nearly two mega-cycles has past since Ultra Magnus, Broadside, and the Dinobots joined our ranks. And they had been quite busy.

Optimus—despite protests from Ratchet, Moonracer, and pretty much everyone else—had forced himself to repair all the damage done to the base by the seawater, no matter how minor the damage was. Within breems of his return to base, the Prime created a temporary communications system, a one-use ground bridge for Wildwing and his creators to get back to the Collected, and replaced half a dozen systems that had been fried by the water; I assisted in the repairs when I could. His progress was halted when we received a message in Morse Code from General Shepherd, asking what we knew about a US Navy ship—the USS Michael Murphy—that was lost near Shockwave's base. After sending a reply to the S.T.F's leader, Optimus finally listened to our advice to retire to the med-bay; however, he only did so after Elita said he would be more effective at repairing the base if he was rested. While that was a logical argument, the Prime ignored me when I suggested the same thing. I found that to be amusing.

As soon as Optimus onlined the following cycle, he went right back to repairing the base, and a pattern in his schedule formed: he onlined for the solar-cycled, worked almost without pause, and reluctantly recharged after he had worn himself into the ground. It was hard to watch him push himself so hard, but the results of his efforts clearly showed everywhere you looked.

The Safe, space bridge, and hallways of the base were now scaled to the Dinobots—Grimlock, specifically—and they now had their own washracks and quarters.

All the systems damaged or destroyed by the seawater were repaired or replaced—the space bridge had even been rebuilt two solar-cycles faster than its initial construction.

The electrical systems of the ops center were now waterproofed, and a drain had been installed around the space bridge, allowing it to remain open underwater for a klick before the ops center started to flood.

The ruined entertainment center for Jack, Raf, and Miko—rendered useless by the water—had also been replaced, improved, and placed a raised platform for their enjoyment. Whenever they were on base, they usually could be found there.

Despite Optimus' success in returning the base to full functionality, we still were not able to patrol as large an area as before, or go out on as many missions as we should have been. Many of my fellow Autobots, Optimus included, were still injured from Shockwave's ambush on the ocean floor, and they could barely sit up, let alone fight. Arcee, Jazz, Optimus, the twins, and Bulkhead were in good enough condition to move around for limited periods of time—even if Optimus decided limited meant _unlimited_ for him—but most were still recovering.

Most being the keyword of that statement.

Baring Grimlock, the Dinobots had been invaluable in keeping the Decepticons from taking advantage of our injuries. They were incredibly effective at offlining Decepticons, and five times already, they—on their own—won skirmishes we normally would have given up on. Their teamwork was more than impressive.

Broadside, too, had been a valuable asset in the time since he was cleared for duty by the still-wounded Ratchet. He carried an insane amount of firepower on his chassis: two Heavy Neutron Cannons; twelve Thermo Missile pods with eight missiles each; a Photon Grenade Rifle built into side of each shoulder-joint; two triple-barreled Scatter-Blasters; two plasma-coated flails he could deploy from his servos; a belt of D-9 Frag Grenades; one Razer Heavy Pistol he kept as a backup; one Plasma Artillery Gun and four anti-air Combustion Flak Cannons he had to be in one of his two ground-based alt modes in order to use; and one custom rotary cannon he had to pull from his backplates, which was essentially a large turret shell containing the parts of four X-18 Scrapmakers fused into one, monstrous weapon he called, 'The Decimator.' Needless to say, Broadside had replaced me as the heavy weapons specialist on the team.

… For now.

The massive Wrecker was a tremendous help to the Dinobots, being by far the most heavily armed of all of us. While the Dinobots tended to be brawlers, Broadside provided the heavy ordinance and, if necessary, artillery strikes from afar. He still got up in close combat—if the marks I almost constantly saw on his armor said anything—but his primary role was simply to shoot as much as possible. And he had been doing it very well since he and the Dinobots started carrying out the majority of our missions.

At least, that is what I had been told; secondhand accounts was all I had to go on, since I hadn't actually seen Broadside or any of the Dinobots fight in person.

My suspension had not been reversed, despite the fact I was one of the few uninjured, non-Seconds on base—I had found out Broadside himself was a Second, and had been since his first frame was almost entirely destroyed during the Sack of Crystal City. It was frustrating, being forced to the sidelines while I sent other Autobots out into the field. But, even though I was annoyed at not being able to go out on missions, I did genuinely enjoy the time I got to spend with Arcee as she continued to recover from her wounds.

Still, the time I had with her would be better if I didn't have to operate the space bridge so much, like I was doing now.

"I still don't get it," Fowler said as he paced the catwalk next to me, shaking his head. "You're telling me that your spark—your heart, basically—_chose_ Arcee as the woman you needed to be in a relationship with? By _itself?_"

I chuckled shortly, internally smiling at Fowler's struggles to understand the terms and unusual aspects of Cybertronians. But, I suppose it was understandable; even I wouldn't have believed most concepts involving Cybertronians back when I was still a human. And I had been giving him a lot of information to process during our conversation; this was the first time he and I had a chance to speak since most of my fellow Autobots had been injured—Fowler's schedule had been occupied by dealing with the fallout of the USS Michael Murphy being sunk.

"Basic way of saying it, but yes," I answered, watching the life signals of Broadside, Swoop, Sludge, Snarl, and Slug as they battled the Decepticons over a smuggler's cache we detected deep underground in a remote area of the Canadian subdivision of Nunavut. It probably was filled with now-worthless goods and chits of Shanix, what I learned had been Cybertron's official currency before the war. But it was better to investigate every signal and find nothing, then ignore one reading and miss recovering a WMD.

"And you don't find it at all unnerving that a part of your body makes life-changing decisions _for_ you, whether you know about them or not?"

"Surprised, not unnerved. Sparks are strange, even to Cybertronians. At times, they seem to be more aware of what we need or what is best for us long before we do; however, Chromia and Ironhide would be better bots to talk to about that habit of sparks—they have much more experience in that department. Most of us don't listen to what our sparks tell us, as they tend to be far ahead of our processors. The fact my spark and Arcee's have Imprinted on each other is a great example of_ that._"

Fowler shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. "Do you ever stop and think about how strange some of the things you say sound to us humans?"

My response was to give Fowler a flat look, blinking once with an audible click.

The government agent paused at my look, then appeared to understand why I was giving it to him. "And you weren't always Cybertronian. I knew that. Sometimes it's easy to forget you were a human when I first met you."

"No apology is necessary, Fowler—I understand. You spent all of a few hours with me while I was a human, the vast majority of which you were recovering from being interrogated by Starscream. Ever since then, you've seen me as a Cybertronian. That has resulted in your mind to subconsciously consider me a Cybertronian even before I changed, due to how little time we interacted before my transformation," I said.

"True enough," said the government agent. He crossed his arms, looking down at my pedes before focusing on my faceplate again. "Guess it's hard for my brain to picture you as a six and a half foot teen, and _not_ a forty-five foot tall walking death machine."

In an instant, my mood fell, and I put a blank look on my faceplate. Memories of my actions on the Hammer rushed me, flooding my vision with waking images of the optics of each bot I saw on that ship.

Every mech and femme I offlined without hesitation.

Fowler quickly realized what he said. "That didn't come out the way I wanted it to. What I meant was, it's getting harder to remember you haven't always been an Autobot."

I pushed my memories aside at Fowler's clarification. "I know."

We were both quiet for a while after that. Fowler just stood on the catwalk, while I watched the life signals of the Autobots in the field. One signal, Slug's, flickered for a nano-klick before returning to a level just below it had been before. If I had to guess, he probably was just shot several times before he offlined his attackers.

"Do you always react that way when you're reminded of your Protocol?" Fowler asked, his voice cautious.

I understood why he was uncertain. During the course of our conversation, I had been explaining to Fowler everything that happened to me while I was away—the Hammer, Quriomus Protocol, Imprinting, and the Pulling being discussed points. But up until now, he hadn't asked me how I felt about the Protocol, or my actions. He clearly didn't know how to to approach the topic.

"Only after what I did on the Hammer," I said. "Before, when it only activated for me to destroy MECH and Airachnid, I found the Protocol… Acceptable. What the Protocol did was ugly and brutal, for sure, but it also saved Arcee from being dissected and stopped Airachnid and MECH from ever harming someone else again. It did some good, back then."

"And when you activated it on the Hammer?"

I didn't answer that.

Fowler seemed to spend a few micro-klicks gathering his thoughts, then asked, "Have you thought about taking a break for a while? Sorting yourself out? Because I can tell you haven't done that yet."

An electrified sword flashed before my optics, slicing through my tank and exiting through my backplates with ease. It took everything I had not to cry out in agony.

Mad laughter and a twisted joke from an equally twisted mech echoed around the room, then a plasma torch cut through my optics.

I shook my helm, clearing my processor of my memories for the second time in only five to six klicks. I was going to have to keep a better lockdown on my CPU. "I'm fine, William," I said, making it look like I was tapping the symbol on the side of my helm as I brought a digit over my right optic to reassure myself that I could see out of it; that injury had been particularly painful and hard to take without breaking. "Everything up here is intact."

Fowler crossed his arms. "Then why'd you use my first name? You never do that."

"I decided to change things up."

The government agent gave me an unbelieving look, but his phone—modified like Jack, Miko, and Raf's to work through the shielding on our base—rang before he could state an opinion, if he had been planning to. He pulled the phone from his belt and answered it. "Special Agent Fowler." He paused, and my audio receptors picked up the garbled words of a woman on the other end—I couldn't understand what she was saying.

Fowler frowned and started walking toward the human elevator. "What do you mean you _lost_ the train?" He asked incredulously as he opened the elevator doors. He stepped into the lift and pressed the button for the helicopter pad, then disappeared as the doors closed and the elevator started to move toward the top of the base.

"Nice talking to you, too," I said sarcastically, making note of how quickly Fowler had left. Whatever that train he mentioned was carrying, it must have been very important to leave without a word to me.

But in truth, it was relieving that Fowler had left. I didn't like talking about the Hammer or my time as the Paraions' captive—it made me uncomfortable and made me think about things I should keep off my processor. It was… Better, not thinking about what I went through… Or those I offlined on that ship.

"Is it common for you to speak to yourself?"

I turned my helm to the hallway leading further into the base and saw Override standing there, a confused look on her faceplate. When did she get here? I didn't even hear her steps echoing in the hallway. "Not out loud, no. How long have you been in the room?"

"Less than one klick," the femme Velocitronian answered as she walked further into the ops center, her steps creating almost no noise even when I was listening.

I looked down at her pedes briefly before returning my optics to her faceplate. "How are you walking so quietly? The only bot I've seen make less noise is Arcee when she's on a stealth mission."

"A Velocitronian is much lighter than a Cybertronian. This is true especially for femmes such as I, even when we are far taller than our Cybertronian counterparts. Naturally, we have developed the habit of walking light on our pedes." Override stepped up to a secondary screen of the other part of the workstation and started to clear some non-essential programs I was running on that section. "That, and your courted has given me some advice on stealth while she has been recovering."

"That sounds like her. Always giving tips on how to sneak up on other bots. Also sounds like how she acts on a regular basis."

"How is her behavior similar?" Asked Override as she finished clearing the programs from the workstation she was using and opened a new program that contained detailed diagrams of all of Earth's vehicles for the purpose of providing us potential alt modes. She had yet to choose an alt mode, despite searching for one on three occasions so far—she obviously was starting attempt number four. "From what I have seen of her, she is not one to sneak about."

"I gave the wrong impression, then. Sorry. What I am talking about is the way she carries herself, her unconscious habits. She typically walks in an ordered, guarded manner, prepared for action—and is always quieter than she needs to be. When standing in a room with multiple bots she does not know well or trust, her training unconsciously kicks in and she positions herself where either her backplates are to the wall, or she can view everyone in the room with minimal effort. And if she is in her quarters, she usually angles her chair so she can be at her desk, working, while keeping an optic on the door through her peripheral vision. She makes everything look natural and unnoteworthy, but I notice."

Override paused in her reviewing of potential alt modes—most of which I couldn't see from my angle, due to her using a secondary screen—to look at me, confusion in her optics. "How do you know all of that?"

I shrugged. "I'm perceptive, and she's never denied at times unconsciously reacting as she was trained to when faced with certain situations. But she hasn't been doing it as much since I returned. She seems to be letting herself act less like a soldier and more like a bot more often than before I was taken." I paused, a thought coming to me. "Or she's just gotten better at hiding her reactions from me; she was _very_ good at hiding it even before I was gone." Now that I thought about it, her improving her ability to hide her actions was more likely than allowing herself to relax more. With the amount of missions she went on the level of training she received, she couldn't just stop. Not that it was a bad move on her part, of course—it was good to be alert even while you spent free time with friends and fellow soldiers.

So what did that say about me?

Override nodded, movement stiff like she had to appear firm to soldiers under her command. That was instinctive behavior on her part, I had learned. "Your skills in observation are advanced, in that case. That is useful, on and off the battlefield."

"You really don't let yourself relax in the slightest, do you?" I asked, taking note of how she ignored my humor yet again—I had yet to see her laugh or smile. Maybe Velocitronians tended to be more serious because Velocitron had always been so scarce on resources. Made sense, since we used to worry about where we would get the resources we needed to survive before we recovered my carrier's Forge.

"No," replied the red and yellow femme, changing the screen in front of her to show the next page of potential alt modes. "Command does not allow one to relax, no matter where they are."

"You aren't in command."

"That may be, but being in command for a prolonged period of time affects you, changes your outlook. It is not a thought process that can be turned off, or properly explained to another bot who has not taken up a command of their own." She glanced at me. "I do not mean that as an insult to your ability to understand other thought processes."

"I didn't take it as one," I said, analyzing her response for signs there was another reason she didn't relax. To have the proper thought process of a commander—immoveable, calm, and emotionally solid as Primax—so your soldiers had someone to look up to was exactly as a leader should do. But to continue keeping that thought process, even after no longer being a leader in your unit, only brought harm to yourself. If you did not relax at all, the stress of being a soldier could become too much; and if a bot became too stressed, they could become a danger in combat and off the battlefield. From an outside perspective, her justification for never letting herself relax were illogical—even stupid.

But then again, Override was right in the fact I had never been in command. The closest I had come to being in charge of something was after the Dinobots, Ultra Magnus, and Broadside arrived— and that didn't count as command, since all I had to do was tell everyone else which bot's injuries should be treated first, and where to put them in the med-bay. Without having experience at real command, I couldn't say whether or not Override's reasons were sound or not. Maybe command really did change you.

"Good." She turned back to the side of the workstation she was standing at and returned to her search for an alt mode. After a moment, she let out a slightly irritated huff. "This planet lacks stylish or aerodynamic land vehicles."

I watched as Broadside's life signal flickered for half a micro-klick before returning to full strength, then walked over to stand behind Override and look at her screen to see what vehicles she was judging for a potential alt mode

She was looking at muscle cars at the moment, ranging from classics from the 1960's, 70's and 80's, to modern Dodge Challengers and Chargers, Ford Mustangs, Chevy Camaros, and the Cadillac STS family.

Ah. Now I understand why she thinks Earth doesn't make aerodynamic cars. Muscle cars—while looking and sounding good—were far from efficient. They were fast in a straight line, but they were too heavy, too sluggish in the corners to be truly effective at racing. One of the only exceptions to this was the STS, but that was because it was closer to a sports car than a muscle car.

"You're looking at the wrong type of vehicles for someone like you—they aren't designed primarily for racing or taking corners quickly," I said, walking back to my part of the workstation. "Most of the options on that page are cars that are mostly built for their blunt looks and ability to go fast in a straight line, or just make a lot of noise."

Override looked at me, blinked, and looked back at the alt mode options in front of her. "What is the point of creating a vehicle when it is not meant for racing?"

"Practicality. Cybertronians and Velocitronians have the luxury of being able to chose what kind of land-base or aerial vehicle we use for travel. If we don't like our alt mode—or alt _modes_, in my case—we can just upgrade ourselves by picking one that better fits our personal preferences. But humans don't have that ability. They need to build the vehicles they use to travel across this planet. And without them, they will be confined to a limited area. As a result, most of their vehicles must be designed for common use: getting to their places of work; traveling for vacations; seeing family; going to social events; and a number of other uses. They still make racing vehicles, of course, but they are designed to be used only on racing circuits, and would make you stand out in public places almost as much as Broadside would."

"Humans are boring, then."

"I thought you didn't let yourself relax?"

"There is a difference between relaxing and making sure I can chase a target to the best of my abilities," said Override, backtracking smoothly and without so much as a hint that she had slipped up and said she enjoyed driving.

I stared at the red and yellow femme for a moment, but let her earlier comment slide and looked back at the life signals of Broadside and the Dinobots. "Then I would recommend searching for an alt mode in a different class of vehicles. A sports car is probably what you're looking for; they handle corners better than muscle cars and are considered more stylish."

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Override type at her end of the workstation for a moment, step to the side, then look at me. "Are these 'Sports' cars?"

I glanced away from my screen and looked at Override's. The file for an Alfo Romeo 4C was on the screen, but I could faintly see files of other sports cars beyond the image of the 4C. "Yes, you're in the right place."

"Good. Then I did not make a mistake."

Override went back to her search after that, and I went back to waiting for the Dinobots and Broadside to call for the space bridge. They had been gone for a while, but that was to be expected, given how deep below the surface the smuggler's cache was located—it was more than three miles down.

The Velocitronian femme and I stood in silence—me watching life signals of fellow Autobots, and she looking for her alt mode—until she asked, "Are these truly the best options for alt modes I have available?"

I looked at her screen again, and was met by the sight of an image of the 2014 SRT Viper. I raised an optic ridge. "What is wrong with with the Viper? It is considered a very good sports car; some consider it a supercar."

"Its hood is too long, its wheel-wells are too open, too prone to drag; it does not offer much in terms of downforce, and it is too tall," Override listed off quickly, then took interest in the last thing I said. "What is a supercar?"

"Supercars are best-performing civilian vehicles on Earth." I walked over and opened up the supercar category of the program, an image of a white Zenvo ST1 appearing in place of the Viper. "They are faster, handle better, and are generally much more aerodynamic than the rest of Earth's land vehicles. However, they also tend to attract far more attention than normal cars, which could be a problem if you were trying to remain undetected."

I looked at Override, and from the look in her optics, I could tell she didn't care about whether she would attract attention or not—she wanted a supercar as her alt mode. "Show me another."

Taking the fact she didn't want to touch the keyboard as a sign she was now much more serious about getting an alt mode, I didn't protest and went to the next supercar in line. It was a Lamborghini Aventador, just like the twins' alt modes.

"That one is too similar to the alt modes of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Please go to the next one."

"I think that's a good idea," I said, changing the image on the screen. "I've walked in on twins hitting on you enough. If you took the same alt mode as them, they'd take that as a sign to hit on you even more."

Override looked me, her optics and faceplate showing pure confusion. "What are you saying? They have never struck me, nor seemed to have the intention of doing so. Why would they want to attack me for having the same alt mode they have chosen?"

I paused, stopping myself from typing before I could bring up the next picture, and looked fully at Override incredulously to see if she was joking. Her optics were curious, her optic ridges were lowered in puzzlement, she was looking at me expectantly, and her frame was not raking from poorly masked laughter.

She genuinely didn't know the term 'Hitting on' was commonly used when someone was talking about flirting. And she really was completely oblivious to the fact the twins hit on her every time she encountered them, or at least every time I saw them together; the twins tended to avoid me as much as possible.

And here I thought _I_ was an oblivious bot.

"Nevermind." I brought up the next car on the list. It was a Gumpert Apollo, a supercar famous for its handling. "What do you think of that?"

"Its style does not fit with my own. But, it is at least built for superior handling. Next."

Sighing at her pickiness, I brought up the next supercar. It was a SSC Ultimate Aero, a previous record holder for Earth's fastest production car.

"It is focused too much on going in a straight line. Next."

I brought up the next image, the last one I would do before returning to my end of the workstation—I had spent enough time helping her. The car was a Koenigsegg One:1, a supercar that—according to the notice that appeared on the top of the screen—was not scheduled to be revealed to the public until an auto show next March; our program included prototype civilian vehicles, due to a standing agreement with multiple nations to allow us access to the best alt modes available in exchange for advancements in combustion engines that, in one way or another, were partially responsible for the creation of some features and technologies used in their creation.

Override's optics widened a quarter of an inch. "That one."

"You want that one as your alt mode?"

"Yes."

I looked at the One:1's specifications: estimated top speed of two-hundred and eighty miles per hour; acceleration so great it was able to achieve nearly two-hundred and fifty miles per hour in just twenty micro-klicks; excellent breaking; a good amount of downforce at any speed; price of about two-million US Dollars; and production limited to six, uniquely developed vehicles.

That could be a problem.

"Are you sure this is the only one you want as your alt mode?" I asked. "By next orbital-cycle, this will be known as one of the most expensive vehicles on Earth, and it's production is extremely limited in numbers. You're going to attract even _more_ attention to yourself than the twins do, and that's saying a lot."

"Its height is low enough for my tastes, it has visual appeal, it is designed for the track, and it is admittedly fast for a vehicle produced by a Tier 4 race—it is a perfect model for me to use to my full abilities," Override said. She gestured for me to move away from the screen. "Please, allow me to finally take my first Earth alt mode."

I wordlessly stepped out of her way, knowing from her reaction that she was not going to chose another car.

Override stepped directly in front of the screen, and her faceplate went completely blank, her optics staring ahead, unseeing and as wide open as they could go. While it was easier to be physically close to a vehicle when we scanned and chose it as our alternate form, Cybertronians could scan a vehicle just by looking at its blueprints. This method of scanning a vehicle took far longer than seeing a working version with our own optics—anywhere from five klicks to two breems, depending on the quality of the blueprints—but it also allowed us to take a very wide range of alt modes without having to leave a secure location with the disadvantage of having no alternate form, and even modify them according to our liking; it was how I had gotten my own alt modes.

After about ten klicks, Override's faceplate and optics returned to normal. Her armor started changing shape, thousands of her parts shifting and rearranging to create sections that were perfect impersonations of the human supercar she had taken as her alternate form. Once her armor had finished taking its new look, she transformed in the equally complex way all Cybertronians—whether they were from Cybertron or not—did, and changed into her Earth alt mode for the first time.

She had made a few modifications to her Koenigsegg form. It was a little shorter than the official specifications indicated, and also about two feet longer. Her vehicle form was much thinner than the production One:1 would be. Two additional vents were now at the back of her alt mode, clearly added to create greater downforce. The front and rear spoilers were also modified to provide the maximum amount of downforce and additional traction. The modifications made her Koenigsegg look much sleeker and refined than the one in the blueprints—that was saying something.

"Please, open the front door," Override said, voice more disembodied since she was in vehicle form. "I want to test this vehicle to determine whether it will hamper my mobility."

"Just don't allow any humans to see you," I said, and walked over to my own station and typed in the command to open the front door.

"They will not." The Velocitronian femme revved her engine once, the sound louder than most car engines yet also high-pitched; it sounded like a turbo-charged, motorcycle-sports car hybrid. Then she sped down the entrance tunnel at speeds that quickly surpassed what I was capable of on the ground. The sound of her engine echoed down the tunnel even after her life signal appeared on my workstation screen.

She was already moving at two-hundred and twenty miles an hour when she left the tunnel, but accelerated when she was in the open and soared up to three-hundred and seventy-seven miles an hour and moved toward a a section of roads so far out of the way and remote, they had fallen into disrepair. She slowed down when she reached the unkept roads, but still was moving at a faster pace than any human production car could achieve. After a moment, she went off the main road and onto a dirt one without decelerating—she accelerated _again_, in fact. She reached a sharp turn in the dirt road, but instead of slowing down to take the bend smoothly, she entered the turn at almost full speed and turned almost ninety degrees to her right, her momentum carrying her all the way through the bend and perfectly into the next straight. She had drifted around the corner.

I chuckled at Override's actions and finally closed the front door. Making sure it didn't hamper her mobility, my aft; she was taking her Koenigsegg form out for a joyride, plain and simple. Not that she would admit that, to herself or others. That would mean she did something for the fun of it, the enjoyment it brought her—and that was a form of relaxation. She did _not_ relax. That wasn't something a commander could do, in her own words. And yet, that was exactly what she was doing right now, judging by what I could see on the screen.

Wonder if Arcee would want to race with her when she recovered. My courted might be able to get Override to relax more openly, if they raced regularly.

An unknown energy reading abruptly appeared on the screen, in the same area as Broadside and the Dinobots. It was small at first, but expanded rapidly in size until it was threatening to engulf the life signals of my fellow Autobots. And—according to the readings on the screen—the unknown signal was hot. Very hot. And getting hotter as it expanded in size.

That couldn't be good.

_"Broadside to base—we need a space bridge! Now, preferably!"_ Broadside's voice came through a communications channel even as I went to open one with him. _ "Come on. You hear me, Shadowstreaker? We need a bridge!"_

"_I'm working on it,"_ I said, locking onto Broadside and the Dinobots' exact location as quickly as I could; the fact they were miles beneath Earth's surface made it a bit more difficult than normal.

"_Time is of the essence, here!"_

After another micro-klick, I locked onto their location and opened the space bridge right in front of them.

Broadside came tumbling through the green portal less than half a micro-klick after it opened, his armor bearing at least a score of scorch marks from explosives or weapons fire.

After he came through, Swoop sprinted into the space bridge tunnel after Broadside. Slug, Snarl, and Sludge exited the space bridge right after Swoop. All of them had visible signs of battle on their armor, though not as many as Broadside. And all of them looked panicked, and it was easy to see why.

Behind them, visible even in the space bridge itself, was a wall of blue fire from what had to be an energon explosion.

"Close the space bridge! NOW!" Broadside roared urgently.

I had already been moving by the time Broadside shouted, and closed the space bridge. But, even though I acted quickly, a wave of fire still got inside the base. The flames were hot, blinding, came in a rush of air so fast, I was knocked back as step; if Fowler or any other human had still been here, they would have been crushed against the ops center wall by the shockwave, or outright incinerated where they stood.

Then, as quickly as they arrived, the flames dissipated, leaving only a cloud of thick, black smoke that blocked my view of the Dinobots and Broadside.

I checked myself over once the fire died out. My paint was singed by the short-lived flames, losing its inky quality, but I was left unharmed. Undoubtedly hot to the touch, but unharmed. But I hadn't been close to source of the fire, like Broadside and the Dinobots had been. And I couldn't hear any movement from that area of the ops center.

"Is anyone hurt?!" I called out into the smoke, stepping forward quickly and purposefully, ready to treat any injury the mechs inside the cloud may have sustained.

An amused, rumbling laugh that echoed around the room like a cannon blast answered my question.

Yeah. They were fine.

"Did you see how big that explosion was?!" Broadside, the one who was laughing, asked the Dinobots, who I still could not see through the thick smoke. "It was my ex-courted when she was pissed off at me!" He punctuated his statement with another booming laugh.

Sludge, Slug, and Snarl quietly—for them—walked out of the ops center without acknowledging Broadside's words.

I watched the three go, blinking once as they made their way out of the room with only one or two quick glances in my direction; they probably wanted to know if I was going to follow them. If it was, I didn't take offence. From what I had seen, the Dinobots besides Swoop were antisocial with everyone besides a fellow Dinobot. They probably felt uncomfortable in the presence of bots who didn't go through the same treatment they endured in Shockwave's captivity.

Swoop stayed in the ops center, and as his fellow Dinobots left, he asked Broadside, "How femmes related to big boom?"

I let out a short laugh at Swoop's question, while Broadside just looked down at the Dinobot flier flatly. "Nevermind. Don't worry about how they connect. Just go… Hang out with your teammates."

Swoop continued looking at Broadside curiously, but followed his advice and left the ops center to follow after the other Dinobots who went on the mission.

After Swoop left, I looked at Broadside. "What happened in that cave? Or, to be specific, what did you do?"

Broadside threw his servos in the air. "Why is it _my_ fault when a smuggler's cache explodes?"

I crossed my servos, looking up at the larger mech expectantly.

The huge Wrecker huffed. "Fine. The caches was located on a smuggler's ship, as you'd expect. But it was a Central-class luxury cruiser. Built solidly, given lots of high-tech defense systems and reactive shielding, and decorated richly on the inside. I'm thinking it belonged to a high-end smuggler, probably one of Swindle's vessels—Lockdown had a bigger organization, but his group always built their ships for mercenary work, bounty hunting, not to look nice. Anyway, the cache was mostly what we expected to find in a shipment of black market items: artwork and artifacts from the Golden Age; two armories filled with civilian-grade weaponry with military-grade weapons mods; almost two-hundred thousand Shanix in various chits stashed in a hidden compartment in the cockpit; multiple crates of medical supplies; disassembled mining equipment and demolition charges; personal entertainment devices ranging from data pads and holo-recorders, to game systems and betting cards; and a whole section of the ship dedicated to storing and brewing stims. Everything a smuggler needs to earn the sparks of potential customers. Ship even had a small stache of Red Energon for the most daring stim junkies."

Wow. _That_ wasn't easy to come by. Red Energon was energon's rarest form—even more so than Dark Energon—and was more than a hundred times as potent and flammable as high-grade; however, it didn't effect a Cybertronian's chassis like high-grade did. Instead, Red Energon overclocked a bot's systems, made them faster, stronger, and think a dozen times as quickly as they normally did—almost like a crude version of my Protocol, without being controlled by anger. But, Red Energon had one very bad side effect: if someone consumed even a milliliter more than one standard cube of Red Energon in the span of a jour, the bot's systems would become overloaded, and the Cybertronian would be offlined almost instantly. That was why Red Energon's uses had been restricted to certain types of power generation and being a catalyst in scientific experiments, and had been since the Golden Age.

Of course, that never stopped Cybertronians looking for a thrill to purchase Red Energon illegally and drink as much as they dared, or use its overclocking abilities to commit crimes. Cybertronians such as that created a black market for Red Energon, and even up to the end of the war, both sides had to deal with the odd Red Energon user in their ranks.

"Nasty stuff," I said. "Explosive stuff, too. I'm guessing the room it was with the other stimulants?"

"It was. That in itself wouldn't have been bad, but it turns out that last section was filled with some _very_ flammable fumes—fumes that can be ignited by something as small as a spark created when your armor scrapes against the wall."

"You blew up the ship, didn't you?"

"It was an accident! I bumped into the doorway! And don't laugh at that! Those doors were so small, even _you_ would have had trouble getting through them!"

"You say that like I'm a small mech."

A half snort escaped Broadside's mouth. "You're pretty big for not being a Second, but you're not the biggest mech I've seen who's managed to stay in their original chassis. It's arrogant of a designer, building a ship too small for bigger mechs to move around in. Least, that's what I think."

"Seconds probably weren't as common, back when the ship was designed. You also said it was a Central-class—each unit of that class were customly built to the requested specifications of the bots who could afford to spend half a billion Shanix for the asking price. Can you really blame them for not thinking of accommodating massive mechs like you, when they likely had no reason to think their ship would be used for anything other than the buyers?"

Broadside waved his servo dismissively. "Bah! You just don't understand the hardships of a Second! We're always having to duck through hallways and slip through doors. If you had to do that every cycle, you'd side with me on my dislike of that ship's interior!" He paused for a moment, a thoughtful look appearing on his faceplate. He then smiled, and gave another of his great laughs and smiles. "Oh, now that would be a sight to see!"

"What? Me being a Second?" I asked. That… Did not sound appealing. I was large enough as I was; being taller and broader would only make it harder for me to hide if I needed to.

"Yes! Think about it, a Triple-Changer even more built for war! Heavy armor, outfitted like an army, can duel with a seeker one moment, and battle a heavily armed, large tank the next!"

"I can already do those things."

"Ah, but not on the level of a Second. You'd be a good sixty, sixty-five feet tall, if you added as much height as I did. Then add that height with an arsenal twice as large as your own and scaled to your new size, put on some thicker armor, and you'd be one intimidating mech on the battlefield, with you being a Triple-Changer _and_ a Second. At least, if you can fight well—I haven't seen you do that yet. But, I can already hear what the Decepticons would call you off the field: the One who blends into the Night, and brings the Shadows to the Light... Solus' Son, Shadowstreaker the Destroyer!" His laugh echoed around the ops center again.

I put a blank look on my faceplate at his words, hiding my sudden feeling of apprehension, but not of his mention of my carrier; I had told he, Magnus, and the Dinobots who my carrier and sire were. But his jovial tone and laughter when talking about turning into something like a feared symbol to the Decepticons, a terror to stand against, was… Frightening to me. I didn't want to be feared, not like that. That made me sound like a monster who slaughtered his way through the battlefield, making no distinction between friend and foe. I wasn't like that.

… I hoped I wasn't, at least.

"No thanks," I said, turning and walking back to the workstation. "I'm a soldier, not a piece of propaganda. And I'm already nearly twice as tall as my courted; if I was made any taller, things between us would be far more difficult."

A sound of metal shifting against metal came from behind me. Broadside had shrugged. "Eh. You're probably right. And I think I went a bit too dark with that description, too… Dramatic. Wheeljack always said I was too into data pads about the rulers of the Golden Age and all their titles, awards, political leagues, and general holier-than-thou habits." He was silent for a micro-klick, then his thundering steps sounded from behind me, vibrating the floor just enough for a Cybertronian to notice. He appeared in my peripheral vision, and leaned against the catwalks next to me. "Speaking of Wheeljack, I heard from Bulkhead that little loner was here on Earth a while back. Bulk' didn't have much to say on his visit, can you add anything?"

"Probably not," I said, watching the life signals of Silverbolt and Air Raid as they patrolled southern Mexico, near where we detected some Decepticon activity. "He was here, he was captured by Decepticons and they sent an imposter to us, he broke free of captivity, he offlined the imposter, then he left again. All in one solar-cycle."

Broadside laughed yet again, and it seemed to me like he was always doing that. Always laughing, always making a joke—even if at times they were crude—always trying to make everyone smile. He had struck me as a long-lost, bigger brother of Jazz—both always lively in a conversation and never taking insults or seeming to take most situations seriously, unless you knew what to look for. They were both good mechs, and even better soldiers.

"That sounds just like Wheeljack, always running off somewhere else," Broadside finally said when his laughter had died down. "Next time I see him, I might sit on him, to keep him from running off in his little ship. It's been too long since I've seen that mech."

"You'd crush him. That would be counterproductive for your desire to see him for a prolonged period of time," I deadpanned.

The huge Wrecker's laugher was revived for a moment. "Guess that's true. Maybe I could weld him to a wall instead, or magnetize the floor under his pedes. _Or_, I could just blow up his ship—that's the simple solution."

"Also the one that probably causes Wheeljack to attack you for destroying his ship."

"Also true."

After Broadside spoke, two things happened at once.

The first was a rapid beeping that came from the workstation, just like the sound it made when we received the fake message from the Paraions before the mission that led to my capture.

The second was the base's proximity sensor went off, drowning out the beeping and signaling that a land vehicle was approaching the base.

I ignored the beep for the moment and brought up footage of one of the cameras covering the entrance tunnel, while Broadside shifted to get a better view of the main screen.

The video the screen showed June Darby's car approaching the entrance, with Jack sitting in the front seat, and Miko and Raf in the back.

"Our resident humans?" Asked Broadside.

"Yes. Jack's mother is dropping them off here since we need to keep the space bridge open, and they have no other means of transportation with their guardians injured." I opened the entrance as June's car got within a hundred yards of it, allowing the small vehicle passage before closing the door behind it.

"Humans are weird, don't even have their own alt modes."

I didn't acknowledge Broadside's statement, since June's car arrived in the ops center at that moment. Three of its doors opened, and Jack stepped out with Miko and Raf.

The trunk popped open, and the three human teens retreated to the back of the car, where they started taking out what seemed to be parts of several expensive, remote-controlled cars, long pieces of Aluminum, rocks of different sizes, and canisters of compressed air. It seemed to me they were working on a project for their own entertainment; however, I had no idea what it was.

As Miko, Raf, and Jack kept taking things out of the trunk, the driver's door opened, and June stepped out. She turned immediately and started walking toward me.

Oh, crap. This could prove to be a complicated conversation—she had no idea I used to be human and once stayed in her home, as far as I knew. I never had a chance to speak to her after my Protocol activated for the first time, and I had always been in another part of the base when she dropped Jack, Raf, and Miko off at the base.

She might get a shock, if she recognizes my voice.

"You. You're the one who saved my son and I from that… Thing, aren't you?" June asked me, coming to a stop about fifty feet away from me.

"From Airachnid, yes, I am," I answered simply.

A confused look appeared on June's face, as if I were suddenly a puzzle to be solved. She shook her head slightly, apparently discarding her confusion, then said, "I came over to say… Thank you, for saving the lives of my son and I. I would have thanked you before, but I didn't have a chance to before you appeared to have been killed."

"An apology is unnecessary."

"I thought you deserved one. You saved us, and I didn't try to find and thank you for that."

I shrugged. "You were recovering from both mental and physical trauma. There is nothing wrong with taking care of yourself. You should know—you're a nurse."

June's eyes narrowed, and her look reappeared for a moment before she again pushed her curiosity aside with a visible effort. "A true statement. But nonetheless, thank you." She turned around and walked toward her car, but paused. She turned her head back to me with that confused look on her face again. "I'm still not sure about your kind, but most humans have imperfect memories, and you sound very familiar to me. Do you know why that would be?"

"I do."

June turned fully toward me. "We've met before, haven't we? While you were… Away, Arcee told me about how you can use a hologram to interact with smaller species, without appearing or acting out of place; she had even used it on me, before I knew who she really was. Did we meet like that, while you were using one of those holograms?"

I considered her words for a moment. It would be easy to say she was right, that Arcee and I had been ordered to watch Jack that first night, but it would be a pointless lie—Jack could very simply tell June that I had been lying to her.

Even as I looked down at June, I could see the younger Darby was watching me intently for my answer, silently testing my character. The look in his eyes told me everything I needed to know; one way or another, June was going to find out I used to be a human. All Jack was doing was waiting to see if I was going to tell her myself.

"No, Miss Darby, we did not meet while I was using my holoform," I said. "We met and spoke just like we are doing right now."

June's eyebrows came together and lowered, making her look even more confused than before. "That can't be. There's no way I would just _forget_ meeting someone like you in person—you Autobots aren't something we humans would forget meeting unless they had an illness that affected their memory."

"Who said I was an Autobot when we met?"

Jack's mother froze, and a dumbfounded look appeared on her face while something else entered her eyes—something that had been missing throughout our conversation: familiarity. "Zechariah?" Her voice was quiet and uncertain, as if she couldn't believe her own words.

"I go by Shadowstreaker now, Miss Darby; being a Cybertronian as tall as a building and still having a human name would be… Out of place."

"Ah, wait—timeout," Broadside said, holding up a servo to me before letting it fall. He looked down into my optics, blinking twice rapidly. "Did you just say you used to be a human?"

"Yes."

"And you realize how impossible that sounds?"

"Yes."

"And how you're making yourself look completely insane for doing so with a straight faceplate?"

"Yes. Facts are facts, no matter your personal opinion on them. And the fact is, I used to be a human."

The huge Wrecker stared at me few several micro-klicks, then abruptly burst into one of his big, booming laughs that echoed around the ops center loud enough that the humans needed to cover their ears. "A human turned into a Cybertronian! HA! That's like something out of a bad vid! How many times did you have to practice that line before you could keep yourself from laughing?"

I merely raised an optic ridge, folding my servos behind my backplates.

Broadside sobered when he saw I wasn't laughing with him. "Are you being serious right now? You were actually a human?"

"I was," I confirmed easily.

Broadside looked down me up and down once, then looked back at my optics. "Aftoix slag," he said, referring to a six-legged, organic plant eater native to one of Cybertron's moons.

June, who had yet to wipe the dumbfounded look off her face, ignored Broadside and asked, "But… How? How could you have been a human back then?"

"That's a complicated answer. In short, I was near death and fading quickly. Human medicine probably wouldn't have saved me, but Cybertronian nanites had a chance of doing so. Nanites run through our veins, acting as our immune and repair systems, and are very good at their job. This is what led my carrier—my mother, in human terms—to donate to my still-human body some of her nanites to heal my injuries. They healed me, but they also viewed my organic body as something that needed to be repaired, and began to change it into a Cybertronian's chassis. I was transformed within two days, I changed and became the mech standing before you now."

Horror crossed June's face. "You mean it only takes a few of your… Nanites—things that run through your _veins!_—getting into our bloodstream to turn one of us normal human beings into one of you within _days_?! That could happen to any one of them just by touching a vial of your energon!" She said heatedly, gesturing to the three teens still near the trunk of her car. The sound of her distraught voice caused Jack to look at his mother in concern, along with Miko and Raf.

"Not necessarily," I said calmly, choosing my words carefully. "Cybertronian nanites are programmed to self-destruct when they leave our frames, to prevent them from causing damage to our technology or joining with another Cybertronian—their own nanites would see the newcomers as a threat. My carrier had to work around this, although I've never asked her how she managed to. She had to account for the fact her nanites would be toxic to my human body and constantly attacked by my immune system—something else I haven't asked for details on. Also, my transformation was accelerated when I had accidental contact with energon, fueling the nanites' efforts. Finally and most importantly, my transformation was planned, not an accident; I've seen too much since I became a Cybertronian to believe it truly was. The odds all of those things happening just as they did to me—and happening merely by accidentally touching a vial of energon, it in itself a simple container that has no nanites on its surface—are the same as being struck seventy-seven times by lightning, winning the lottery in every US state, getting a hole in one on every hole in a full game of golf, and winning seven straight hands of Texas Hold 'Em with a royal flush against nine opponents, all in the same day. Simply put, it's not going to happen."

"And if we touch energon when it isn't in a vial or container?"

"The chances of an accidental transformation occurring would barely be effected."

"How do you know that?"

"Because energon is normally toxic to organics, kills them within moments of contact—I only survived because I already had nanites inside me. If one of you had direct contact with energon, you are far more likely to die than turn into a Cybertronian yourselves," I answered, being brutally honest. Given her medical knowledge, it would be better to be honest about how toxic energon was to organics than only give a partial truth.

June could only stare at me, eyes widened and blank, face alarmed. Silently and slowly, she backed away from me until she reached her car. She stopped there and leaned against the hood of her car, staring ahead with unseeing eyes, the weight of our conversation seeming to come down on her all at once.

Jack stopped helping Miko and Raf unload objects from the trunk and joined his mother at the front of the vehicle, concern in his eyes. "Are you okay, Mom?"

Faintly, I heard June whisper, "We can be killed just by touching their blood, and you've been with them for more than a year…"

I tuned June out after that, not wanting to listen in on the conversation she was going to have with her son. It was obvious that June was having difficulties adjusting her life to Cybertronians, even if she usually did not show it. I couldn't blame her for that; as a single mother and nurse, her life must have been stressful enough as it was. Now that she knew of our existence, and discovered her son and two other teenagers had been keeping our presence as secret from her for more than an orbital-cycle, the amount of stress she was under must have increased dramatically. And the bombshell of my origins and the danger of coming into contact with energon—something Jack, Miko, and Raf saw every cycle—definitely didn't help her.

But, June was a strong woman. In time, she would adjust and be as comfortable around us as the teens were.

At least I hoped she would.

I turned to the workstation as June and Jack's conversation continued, cleared out the feed of the security camera outside the entrance tunnel, and investigated the first sound that came from the workstation before the proximity alert—the incoming message, if the rapid beeping was anything to go by.

The message was, oddly, in Russian. After a cursory observation, I found that the words inside the message were nonsense and out of place, meaningless. Clearly, the message was coded, but why would we be getting a coded message from Russia?

"What's with the Russian on screen?" Asked Broadside.

"I don't know," I answered, trying to mentally unscramble the code in front of us.

"Well, you _were_ a human. Doesn't that mean you're supposed to know slag like this?" The massive mech asked sarcastically, a wide smile on his faceplate.

"I _was_ a human, Broadside," I said, knowing he was scoffing at the idea and making a joke out of it.

"Sure. And I'm actually a tree. A big, wide, metal tree."

"You do have the personality of one," I noted in deadpan, as if I was serious. "But if you don't believe me, ask Arcee, see how she reacts to you not believing her, either."

The amusement on Broadside's faceplate disappeared in an instant, and he suddenly looked very nervous.

"Didn't think so." I looked fully back to the main screen. It was not a complex code, if the presence of full words were any indication—the majority of codes were random numbers or letters in many different languages. This was just one language, and had entire words present in the message itself. Sure, they were meaningless, but it also meant the person who encoded the message was not a cryptographer. Did that mean I was simply searching too hard? Was the code just easy to see?

With that idea in my CPU, I looked at the first letter of each word, seeing if it formed any meaningful words. When that didn't work, I tried looking at the last letter of each word. That also didn't work, either. After that, I tried another technique: looking at the first letter of the first word, the second letter of the second word, the third letter of the third word and so on until the word was too short to continue, then restarted the process.

A recognizable pattern soon formed, unraveling the nonsense of the initial message and slowly revealing the true information. I smiled as I finished decoding the message.

It read: _See you in two jours._

_From, Flightstorm._

So, they had returned to the Apex Sentinel, proposed Optimus' offer to Delta, and gotten approval from the captain. Looked like we would be seeing more of Flightstorm and his family, especially Wildwing. The fact Flightstorm decided to send the message in Russian, however, was strange. Didn't even know he downloaded Russian.

No matter the oddity of Flightstorm's chosen language for the message, Optimus was going to want to know about it.

"Broadside, can you take over the space bridge for me?" I asked. "I need to speak to Optimus about this message—it's from one of the neutrals who was here when you first arrived."

Broadside shrugged. "Eh. Why not? Go talk to Prime, I'll take your shift."

"Thanks." I stepped away from the workstation, allowing Broadside to stand in front of it. "Oh, and by the way, Override finally chose an alt mode and is out _testing_ it. Watch out for her to return."

The massive mech's optics lit up with mischief. "Now I have to keep an optic out for beautiful femmes, too? This is the best posting ever. Well, besides being a guard at a femme armoring station, but only other femmes would get that position. So you can't count that one."

I rolled my optics, causing Broadside let out a short laugh. His comments were like milder versions of how Springer used to be—crude and vocal in his admiration of the femme form. But at least he meant for most of his comments to be jokes, and was still respectful when facing a femme in person. "Just operate the space bridge when you need to, alright?"

"Yes, sir, commander, sir." Broadside gave me a mock salute, smiling at the look I gave him.

I refrained from commenting further and started walking toward the med-bay, the sounds of Jack and June's conversation picking back up behind me; it had been paused when Broadside's thunderous laughter drowned out their words.

I entered the hallway a moment after walking away from Broadside. At two-hundred and fifty feet, the ceiling was more than tall enough for even Grimlock to walk through without any trouble. It was also much wider, and each doorway had separate door controls higher off the ground so Broadside and the Dinobots didn't have to bend down just to open a room. The changes made any human who walked the halls look even more pathetically small, along with most non-Seconds like me.

After continuing down the hallway, I reached the med-bay. The door automatically opened for me as I approached.

Like the hallway, the med-bay was much larger than it had been two mega-cycles ago, scaled differently. It was longer, and had larger berths at the back that would be big enough for Grimlock to lay down on. If he ever came into the med-bay, that is—he still hadn't sought out treatment for his extensive injuries. In fact, I didn't even know where he was; turns out, trying to find Grimlock when he wanted to be alone was surprisingly difficult.

Jetfire, Flareup, and Bumblebee were sitting up in their medical berths to the left of the door, quietly talking.

Chromia, Elita, and Ironhide were trying to stand from their berths further into the room with Bulkhead's assistance, although none of them were having any success.

Ratchet and Moonracer were lying down on their berths, studying medical scans on the computers next to them; medics never took breaks.

The rest of the Autobots in the med-bay—besides Prowl and Ultra Magnus, who both just laid on their berths and stared at the ceiling, obviously not sure what to do with themselves when they were injured—appeared to be forcing themselves to recharge to pass their time in the med-bay. The Delphic floated near the door, as it had since most of my fellow Autobots had been wounded.

To the right, away from his soldiers, Optimus was sitting on his own medical berth, looking at a data pad in his servo with interest. Slung over his backplates, the Omni Saber took up the space the Star Saber had just two mega-cycles ago. The black blade didn't seem to fit someone like Optimus.

The Prime looked at me when I entered the med-bay. He nodded in greeting. "Shadowstreaker."

"Optimus," I greeted in kind as I walked toward him. "Flightstorm just sent an answer to the offer you extended to he and his family."

Optimus lowered the data pad in his servo. "And what was their response?"

"It seems they agreed—Flightstorm says they'll see us in two jours."

"That is what I had hoped they would do," said Optimus, looking back down at his data pad. "If they had decided to reject my offer, it would would have been difficult for us to monitor the development of Wildwing's abilities as a Seer."

"I'm glad they accepted the proposal, too, but are you saying it would have actually been possible to keep track of Wildwing without his creators agreeing?" I asked.

"Yes."

"How?"

The Prime typed something into the data pad in his servo, then turned it around and showed me what was now on its small screen.

It was a simulated image of the Milky Way Galaxy and its satellites. Each satellite galaxy slowly rotated around the Milky Way, although I knew the speed they were moving was just a representation—it took hundreds or thousands of centi-vorns for a satellite galaxy to finish one rotation around the Milky Way. There was a small, blue circle in one of the satellite galaxies, about a third of the way from its core.

I looked at the circle and found there were small words and numbers beneath it, blending into the satellite at first glance, making them very difficult to read

After focusing my optics in further in on the words and numbers, I managed to separate them from the galaxy they were mixed in with.

_Subject designation: Collected, neutral vessel._

_Class: Unknown alien battleship._

_Length: 1,011 meters._

_Height: 480 meters._

_Width: 676 meters._

_Weight: 115 kilotons._

_Shields: Full._

_Speed: Point nine light speed._

_Status: Docked._

I widened my optics at the information and looked at Optimus in shock. We shouldn't have had any way to have information like that, and on such a detailed level. There was only one way Optimus could have that data, only one answer that made any sense.

He placed a bug on the Collected.

"Did you hide a tracking chip on their ship, Optimus?" I asked, getting over my shock. Spying on others was completely unlike Optimus, it didn't sit well with me.

Still, I was surprised Optimus had made the decision to place a tracker and hadn't even mentioned it until now.

"I did," Optimus answered, tone neutral as always as he looked at me. "I had to make sure the Collected returned to the Apex Sentinel safely—the Matrix demanded I keep watch over Wildwing."

I set my jaw, the only sign I was debating how I felt about Optimus' spying on bots who had no part in the war. Spying on enemies or potential enemies I had no problem with—we needed to look out for attacks from anyone. But, it was very clear the neutrals of the Apex Sentinel just wanted to live in peace, and would only fight if attacked first. Spying on them was pointless, invasive, and something Megatron would do in a sparkbeat. Such actions were dishonest and underhanded, and very surprising—especially from someone like Optimus. The Prime always had this noble thought process, this aura of trust, wisdom, and kindness that flowed from him just by standing in a room. Putting a tracker on a ship that had no enemies onboard and only one potential asset seemed like a misuse of resources and betrayal of trust.

But, would I have done the same, if I was in Optimus' position?

Yes. Yes I would have.

A tracker did not cause harm, did not gather personal information; it just sent constant updates on the location of the object it was attached to. Placing a tracking device on the Collected when it carried Wildwing—a mechling whose abilities as a Seer could lead to great things in the future, and whose life was valuable to everyone on base since he first became stranded on Earth—was what I would have done, at least to keep an optic on them and make sure they safely passed through potentially dangerous sectors of space. Tracking chips only required a small amount of material to create, and needed no power sources—they syphoned off the little power from the vehicle or ship they were attached to, if that was the object they tracked. They were a simple, reliable way of watching out for a ship without following it. And, they would let you know if the ship had been damaged, destroyed, or simply disappeared, albeit on a delay.

If I was honest with myself, I would have done more to keep an optic on the Collected. And Primus knew what I would do if Arcee and I were forced apart and I had the resources to watch over her. I'd need a whole room just for the computer monitors.

… I feel like that's creepy.

"Well, I suppose it was the logical choice on your part," I admitted as Bulkhead slowly made his way past me and out of the med-bay door for his breem of limited recess out of the med-bay. "Wildwing is important to all of us who were here when he landed on Earth alone; now with his new status as a Seer, he could make him strategically valuable. Basic trackers aren't really spying tools at such a great distance, either. _And_ there's the fact the Matrix is involved."

"And a request from the Matrix is not something you ignore," Optimus said, turning the data pad back to him and working on it for a moment, likely to dismiss the tracking data. "It sees Wildwing as too important, too rare a sparkling to completely entrust the safety of to others—and I agree with it. That is why when the Collected returns to Earth again—and with Flightstorm's permission—I will make further modifications to the vessel."

"You already did that before it left."

"No, I gave the Collected what it needed to leave the system safely, not what it should have. Better weapons, shields, and armor are not requirements to travel at back to the Apex Sentinel. I would have upgraded those systems, but Flightstorm also refused to let me do anything more than create the ship'stealth drive, on account of my injuries."

"So, the Matrix had you place a tracker in the stealth drive, instead?"

"It did," confirmed Optimus.

"Hmm. It might have been the only thing you could do, but it seems pretty limited in how useful it is, honestly—any tracking data you're getting is at least a mega-cycle old. By the time you receive data saying the Collected was attacked or in trouble, anything could have happened to the ship. Not only that, but we'd be of little use against aything more than a light frigate; we only have the capability to fight other Cybertronians, not starships."

Optimus was silent for several micro-klicks, and it seemed to me that he was thinking seriously. "I have been considering how to solve that problem as of late," he finally said. "It is an issue that has plagued us since we arrived on Earth more than four orbital-cycles ago, and I believe it is time to bring an end to it."

I crossed my servos, looking at the Prime in a questioning manner. "And what solutions have you come up with?"

Optimus looked me in the optics. "We build our own starship, along with a hanger."

I raised both optic ridges in surprise. The thought of creating our own ship had passed through my processor before, but I hadn't seriously considered it for two reasons: one, while we had my carrier's Forge, the undertaking of building a ship was beyond enormous and would take several jours—possibly orbital-cycles—to complete; a starship was far more complex than a space bridge, and each part would need to be placed by servo after being built by Optimus; and two, we lacked the required area to build a starship inside. We definitely couldn't build a starship outside the base and keep it hidden from the humans, let alone the Decepticons.

Of course, we could reformate the Safe, but that would leave us without training grounds and only an area large enough for a heavy frigate to be constructed. A reformate like that would be more of a hassle than a single heavy frigate was worth when we had the Forge to create whatever we needed down here.

If we were to build our own ship, it would have to be at least the size of a cruiser, be heavily armored and armed, stealthed, recover enough energon and raw materials to give Optimus a break from using the Forge all the time, and able to travel at the fastest FTL speeds. All of that, plus a hanger large enough to allow the ship to dock without difficulty or drawing unwanted attention.

"I admit, having our own ship is fun to imagine and would open up immense opportunities for us in other areas of the Sol system and beyond, but it's nigh on impossible to make a valuable ship in our present situation—we don't have the room for a large ship and hanger in the base," I said.

"You are correct, we do not have large enough facilities for a starship and its hanger; however, we could build them in an extension of the base," said the Prime.

"Another one? The S.T.F gave our base an expansion when they first installed the turrets up top, we've modified it several times, and you've pretty much given it another expansion already with its rescaling."

"A further reason to construct a new area for a ship hanger—I am already in the process of modifying the base. Our numbers have grown rapidly in the last orbital-cycle, and are poised to potentially grow further still, with Flightstorm and his family soon to be making regular visits to Earth. But despite our new numbers, we lack the capability of effectively combating the two Decepticon ships in the system. A spacecraft of our own could provide us with the firepower we need to begin breaking the grip the Decepticons hold over Earth's energon reserves and this system's Cybertronian metal deposits. We would still not be able to battle them on an equal level, but we are at war—we need to keep the scales of the battlefield as favorable to our side as possible. A starship of our own would be the start of a rebalancing the scales on Earth."

I was silent for a moment, thinking on the points he made. Having our own ship _could _potentially rebalance the power between us and the Decepticons here on Earth, provided our ship had a lot of firepower. But, if we built such a vessel, humanity might see us as another enemy instead of an ally. Building a ship could prove to be a delicate task.

"You're right, as always. It is the logical thing to do, countering the Decepticons' ships with one of our own," I said. "But my former race likely wouldn't be happy with us if we did. From the perspective of many world leaders, we would be another threat they had to face. Such a mentality could be spread very easily, and the fact we're hiding inside the borders of Earth's dominant superpower wouldn't help us."

"A sad notion, but nonetheless not a stretch of the truth," said Optimus, returning his gaze to his data pad. "But, the benefits of our own spacecraft are too great to simply discard due to politics. When I am able, I will share my thoughts on the matter with the others to get a general consensus." He shifted on his medical berth, but the Omni Saber on his backplates did not clang against him like the Star Saber would have. He glanced over his shoulder-joint at the lack of sound, and then looked at the data pad.

Ignoring how Optimus' words suggested he had yet to share his idea of creating a ship with anyone other than me, I took note of his reaction. "Having trouble readjusting to a smaller sword?"

"It is most certainly not the Star Saber." The Prime's words were neutral as they always were, but I detected a hint of frustration in his optics—frustration directed at himself.

"It's not your fault we lost the Star Saber, Optimus," I said, knowing he was blaming himself for losing this reality's version of the legendary sword, as he often had since he had been injured.

"If I had noticed we were being surrounded, the ambush would have not taken place, and I would not have been separated from the Star saber."

"You were at the bottom of the ocean, had limited visibility, and gunships around you were running dark. How could you have seen the ambush?"

"I am the Prime; it is my duty to notice threats others cannot see."

I went quiet at his words. He was wrong—obviously—but I knew when Optimus was unyielding in his opinions. This was something he would not shrug off, would not allow logical excuses. He would place the blame of the ambush solely on his shoulder-joints, along with numerous other weights of leadership. He would vow to do better, and probably would end up doing so. He tended to make good on his vows, even if they hadn't been spoken.

Sensing our conversation had run its course, I asked, "Arcee using her time out of the med-bay?" It was an obvious question since she was not in the room, but I felt I should end my discussion with Optimus on a different note than it would have.

"She is. She left a few klicks before you arrived," answered Optimus.

"Do you know where she went?"

An amused look entered Optimus' optics. "She informed me she was going to spend her allotted breem in the rec room."

"I'll be heading there, then." I turned and walked toward the door. "See you later, Optimus."

The Prime bid me farewell, then I entered the hallway and started making my way to the rec room.

On my way to seeing my courted—that still sounded strange to me—I came along an odd sight on the side of the hallway.

It was Sludge, standing on the tips of his pedes, looking along the top of the particularly large door of the Dinobots' shared quarters—they had refused Optimus' offer of individual quarters, probably because they were more comfortable living among those they considered brothers than in privacy. He was holding a strange device up to the top of the doorway, moving it slowly from the left side of the doorway to the right. He was engrossed in his task, he didn't appear to notice me standing there.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Sludge paused, turned his helm toward me, blinked, then went back to moving the device across the doorway. "Me searching for listening bugs."

"Why? We're Autobots, not Decepticons—we don't plant bugs in or near each other's quarters."

"Listening bugs can be _anywhere_," Sludge said, ignoring the second part of my statement and continuing with his task.

I narrowed my optics at his answer. There was something in the way Sludge spoke, the tone that briefly entered is voice, that was very unusual. However, it was very difficult to place or identify. Fear? Regret? Anger? Paranoia? I couldn't tell.

To try and keep the conversation going—and perhaps get a chance to hear the tone Sludge used again, and identify what it was—I asked, "Do you want any help?"

Sludge's helm turned half way toward me, optics conflicted. He was still for a micro-klick, then he started to shake his helm vigorously. "No, no. Me Sludge need no help." His optics became distant and he opened the door in front of him, where I could see Swoop lying on a berth built into the wall close to the ceiling.

"But—"

"No help!" Sludge stepped into the other room and closed the door behind him. A moment later, the light next to the door turned red, signifying it was locked.

I frowned at Sludge's reaction. While I hadn't spoken to the Dinobots very much, behavior like _that_ was definitely not normal. He had been acting strange before I had even said a word to him, and then almost seemed fearful when I asked him if he wanted any help. What was scary about that?

I decided I wasn't going to find an answer to Sludge's unusual behavior by standing in the hallway, and continued on toward the rec room. Wondering about Sludge could wait; I wanted to see my courted.

A short time later, I arrived at the rec room door. Like the med-bay's, the rec room's door opened for me as I came within range of the motion sensor above the doorway.

The rec room had seen a makeover like the rest of the base, but mostly in the form of a heightened ceiling, larger area, additional tables, chairs, lobbing balls, and energon dispensers. There were, however, some noticeable improvements.

One was the bar in the far left corner, where special types of oils could be added to all grades of energon for an added… Kick.

Another were the shelves of data pads in the far right corner, all of which were copies Optimus had me make of the ones in his quarters. Many human novels, biographies and nonfiction had also been converted into data pads and placed on the shelves as well.

The final big change to the rec room was the new screen directly ahead from the door. It was nearly twice the size it used to be, had surround sound, and—if we wanted to—could be used as a screen where the game systems of the teens could be plugged in. New bot-sized couches and chairs were placed in front of the screen, and there were five chairs that would large enough for even Grimlock to use.

Arcee was sitting in one of the new chairs, one pede crossed over the other as she held a cube of energon in one of her servos. Judging by its darker color, the energon in her cube was mixed with a mild painkiller—her repairing injuries must have been bothering her this cycle.

In front of her chair, Raf, Miko, and Jack were reloading appeared to be a homemade, remote-controlled trebuchet. It was about seven feet long when its arm was pulled back, had ten wheels from the remote-controlled car parts, a large counterweight, and had the canisters of compressed air were powering a motor that pulled the trebuchet's arm back. The rocks I had seen the teens take out of June's car earlier were being used as ammo.

On the opposite side of the teens, sitting in his own chair, was Bulkhead. He had his own cube of energon in his servo, and was watching the teens like Arcee was. He looked excited to see the trebuchet fire.

When I entered the room, everyone looked up at me.

Bulkhead's faceplate became noticeably more restrained; the teens looked torn between smiling and just being neutral; and Arcee gave me an affectionate look and a little smile around the edge of her cube. And that drowned out the looks of Bulkhead and the teens.

Silence reigned in the rec room for several micro-klicks when I entered. Then I saw Arcee giving me a meaningful look, silently telling me to break the ice with Bulkhead and the teens.

I returned the look she gave me, looked down at the trebuchet, then focused on the teens. "Well, you going to fire?"

Their eyes brightened. "Of course," Raf said, beating his fellow humans at responding. "We're just about to finish reloading it."

"Hop to it, then; I want to see it fire."

The teens smiled and went back finishing their reload of the trebuchet; Arcee, Bulkhead, and I watched intently. Although, Bulkhead didn't seem as excited as he did before.

Once the trebuchet was reloaded, the teens stepped away from it. Jack picked up a remote control they evidently were using as the trebuchet release. "Thr—"

"Hold on," Miko interrupted Jack before he could even start counting down. "You fired it last time. No going two times in a row! It's my turn to fire it!"

"It went like twenty feet last time. You can't count that one!" Protested Jack, smiling down at his girlfriend.

"I can't help it if you suck at firing our trebuchet! Hand it over, Jackie!" Miko held her hand out expectantly, smiling smugly.

"It shouldn't count!" Jack kept going, switching the control to the hand on the opposite side Miko stood.

The Japanese girl narrowed her eyes, humor leaving her face. She suddenly lunged for the control, laughing as she did.

Soon, Jack and Miko were playfully fighting over the control, throwing fake taunts flirts toward each other. Their actions caused Raf to make a gagging motion, Bulkhead to frown in irritation, and Arcee to just roll her optics and then share a brief look with me.

"Dis is boring and nauseatin'! Fire da dang thing already!" Jazz's voice suddenly called over Jack and Miko.

I started slightly at how abruptly Jazz's voice appeared, and looked to where it came from.

The saboteur was lying on a hammock hanging from the corner of the doorway and an air vent that kept the room's temperature moderate. Just like Arcee and Bulkhead, he had a cube of energon in his servo that—going by how full it was—he just started to drink.

Jazz raised his cube in greeting. "Shadowster'! Nice of ya ta join us."

I stared at Jazz for half a micro-klick. "How long have you been there?"

"Longer than Ah should be, an' less time than Ah'd hoped," said Jazz as he sipped from his cube.

I looked from him, down to the floor, up to the corner of the door and the vent, back to Jazz. He was at least two-hundred feet in the air, and there was nothing on the door he could have used as a ladder to get up. "How…?"

The saboteur's visor flashed. "Ah've learned since da failure of Operation:Mistletoe. But a saboteur never shares his secrets."

I kept looking at Jazz for a moment, then just chuckled and looked back at Jack and Miko, who continued to 'Fight' over the control.

After it became obvious they had not listened to Jazz, Raf took out a smaller control from his pocket—clearly a backup for the controller Jack and Miko fighting over—and pressed one of the new controller's buttons.

The trebuchet's arm shot upward as the counterweight pulled it down. When the arm was about to reach the apex of its swing, the sling released the rock it contained, sending the stone flying threw the air. The rock tumbled as it flew, then landed about one-hundred meters from where the teens stood; the trebuchet's arm continued to move even after the stone landed, the counterweight jerking the arm as it swung back and forth and slowly started to become still.

"Good distance, for something that size," I commented.

"Ya might be able ta get more outta it if ya straighten it' arm a little—it' kinda bent," added Jazz.

Jack and Miko ignored my and Jazz's comments, and looked at Raf in surprise. "You had another controller?" Miko asked.

"Yup," said Raf.

"Why?" Asked Jack.

Raf just looked at the other two teens, eyebrows raised expectantly, as if waiting for them to put it together themselves.

Miko and Jack shared a confused look, then blushed simultaneously in embarrassment. "Right," they both said.

"Now you understand," said Raf, walking over to the trebuchet and starting to examine its arm. "Seriously, how do you two not realize how you act sometimes?"

Miko and Jack shared a shy look. Jack rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at his girlfriend, and Miko played with her braid, face slightly pink from embarrassment.

Arcee and Jazz laughed at the reactions of the two teens; Jazz's show of amusement was loud, and Arcee's was quiet.

Bulkhead didn't laugh or smile, unlike Jazz and Arcee—he just stared at me with a blank look on his faceplate. "What are you doing here, Shadowstreaker?"

The mood in the rec room fell when Bulkhead uttered those words with that tone. Jazz's laughter died out, the teens seemed to be uncertain of what to do, and Arcee's optics narrowed at the Wrecker in a subtle warning. At least I had one person who was definitely on my side.

"I came here to spend time with Arcee," I answered truthfully. "Is there are something wrong with that?"

"No. Just wondering why you aren't operating the space bridge." The tone in Bulkhead's voice told me otherwise.

I chose to not to call Bulkhead out on the lie. "Broadside took over for me," I said, walking over to an energon dispenser and starting to fill a cube of energon for myself.

"So, you're going to enjoy a cube of energon while a mech who has been going on multiple missions every cycle covers for you?" Bulkhead asked, accusation in his voice and cold anger in his optics.

I decided his tone of voice wasn't worth commenting on, either; after what I did on the Hammer, anyone who wanted to use a certain tone of voice with me were welcome to do so. "He's not 'Covering' for me. I intend on going back after my time here, or having Override take over for Broadside when she returns to base—she's out driving."

The green Wrecker grunted. "So you'll let _two_ other bots cover for you instead of just one. Very unbecoming behavior."

That I found worthy of answering, but Arcee beat me to it, "Watch it, Bulkhead." There was a cool tone in her voice, as if she was warning him against continuing this line of statements.

"I'm just saying it's dangerous," Bulkhead defended himself with no anger in his voice. He was still lying, though. "Broadside's always out on missions, and those will take a lot out of you. Having a tired bot operating a space bridge can get bots offlined, because the drained operator's reaction time might not be very good. And getting another bot—one fully alert and combat ready, but inexperienced with using the space bridge—to cover your duties can leave teams short on good fighters. That's all I'm saying."

"No it's not," I pointed out calmly, taking my cube out from under the dispenser and taking a sip.

"How would you know?" Asked Bulkhead, and I knew just from the way he spoke that he was sending a minor glare in my direction. That wasn't like him.

"One, you assumed I was being lazy and neglecting my duties when I am going to be returning to them in due order. Two, you think I am compromising our security by not operating the space bridge, when everyone else who is not injured is just as capable of operating the bridge as I am. And three, the tone of anger you have been using toward me stems from something not related to space bridges and base duty—your comment about believing my behavior is unbecoming proves that," I said as I turned and started walked back from the dispenser, ignoring the look Bulkhead was indeed giving me as I sat down next to Arcee. "The real reason for your anger toward me is—going by your own behavior the last two mega-cycles—because of my actions on the Hammer."

Bulkhead let out a slow breath as he gave me a hard look; the teens seemed even more uncertain than before. "Yup."

Wow, didn't even try to deny it. "Then don't be coy, say what you want. Lying doesn't suit you, Bulkhead."

"You want me to be blunt? Fine. Here it is: I think you may as well have shot the Autobots on that ship yourself, sent them to Primus a big sooner than they were; I think you didn't even care they had offlined until you realized Arcee wasn't offline herself; I think you were a _machine_ for not putting your fellow Autobots before yourself; and I think you are more of a Decepticon than an Autobot now, for acting as if it didn't happen and being able to sit and laugh after the slag you did."

Bulkhead's first sentence hurt like a punch to the faceplate. My actions had caused the Autobots on the Hammer to offline, but I hadn't meant for that to happen. I didn't _want_ them to be hurt. Their offlinings were inadvertent. That was not like shooting them myself. It wasn't… Right?

His second and third sentences hurt even more than his first. He was right in that—I didn't really care what happened to me when I activated my Protocol, and hadn't felt anything until Flightstorm presented the evidence of Arcee's survival to me. I had barely given the bots who perished on the Hammer a thought, or wondered if I could have done something differently to save them and still fight the Paraions. I had been emotionless, uncaring. I _had_ been a machine.

… Or was I still a machine?

By the end of Bulkhead's fourth sentence, I felt cold and numb. There were hundreds—possibly thousands—of offline bots because of me, and they all would still be alive if I hadn't activated my Quriomus Protocol. Yet here I was, sitting next to my courted, drinking energon, and feeling alright up until now. How could I remain the same person after that? How could I even retain the _capability_ of being happy after having so much energon on my servos? What separated me from the Decepticons? The answer was nothing, because I had slaughtered bots just like they did.

I felt nothing for others.

I only cared about myself.

I was a monster.

A strange feeling started to spread through me, starting from my servo. It was not cold or stabbing, and it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the opposite: warmth and comfort.

Slowly, as if I had been encased in ice, I looked down at my servo. Arcee's was touching mine, but she wasn't gripping or leaving hers on top of mine—she just brushed her servo over my own.

In that moment—feeling numb to everything and, as if I was being weighed down, heavier than a hundred suns—the touch of Arcee's servo felt like the greatest thing in the universe to me. And with that short contact I had with her, I regained feeling throughout my frame, and everything that had been strange to me a moment before was back to being normal.

Was that what it feels like to be crippled by an emotion?

After touching my servo, Arcee gave Bulkhead a glare that should have ignited the energon running through his veins. "You went well beyond the line, Bulkhead." The level of cold fury in her voice made it seem like the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees.

Bulkhead—for his part—looked a little nervous at being at the center of Arcee's anger, since he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Even the teens were intimidated by my courted. Hell _I_ was; she had that affect on people when she was angry with them.

"I was within my rights to an opinion," Bulkhead said, sounding a little weak.

"And you took it too far when you compared him to a Decepticon."

"I stand by that statement. His actions weren't at all Autobot-like, so that makes them fitting of a Decepticon. And that calls his status _as_ an Autobot into question."

"Do you think I'd be his courted if I was worried about his character? Or are you going to question my character, too?" Asked Arcee, a dangerous tone in her voice as she narrowed her optics at Bulkhead in challenge.

Bulkhead immediately broke optic contact with her and took a long sip from his cube. "Autobots look out for each other first and foremost, never leaving another 'Bot's backplates vulnerable, and always keeping an optic out for trouble. But Shadowstreaker didn't do that, didn't watch out for anyone besides himself. No bot should remain a 'Bot if they do that. That bot wouldn't be worthy of being one."

A long, loud, humorless laugh erupted out of Jazz at that, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. And I was grateful for the interruption—it was getting hard to not let Bulkhead's statements affect me. "By dat logic, ya would need ta join Shadowster' in bein' dishonorably discharged, Bulk'," the saboteur said, sitting up and letting his pedes dangle over the side of his hammock.

Bulkhead's faceplate went blank, but Miko looked at Jazz in confusion; her look echoed how I felt, too. "What are you talking about?" She asked.

The saboteur's visor flashed darkly. "You haven't told her?" He asked Bulkhead without his usual accent.

The Wrecker's optics became shameful, and he shook his helm.

It was at that moment when I saw something appear on Jazz's faceplate that I never thought I'd see directed at another Autobot: cold fury. "You haven't told your own charge what you did during the First Battles of Loktas, and yet you have the nerve to judge another Autobot for actions he told _all _of us at the _same time_?" His visor flashed again, and he took a sip from his cube like Bulkhead had earlier. "You fragging hypocrite."

Something very serious just happened, and I have no idea what it was. I have _never_ heard Jazz say anything like that, let alone to another Autobot. What the hell did Bulkhead do back then to make Jazz so angry?

"Uh… What happened during the First Battles of Loktas?" Raf asked, voicing my thoughts.

Jazz's angry visor glanced at Raf before locking onto Bulkhead again, seemingly drilling through the Wrecker's armor. "Are you going to tell them, or should I?"

The look on Bulkhead's faceplate mirrored what I saw in his optics, and he said quietly, "Just tell them."

My courted frowned at Bulkhead disapprovingly and shook her helm, but her optics carried sympathy. She knew, too?

Jazz hummed at Bulkhead's refusal and sipped his cube. "Alright. I'll do it. It was early on in the war, while civilians could still walk beyond the limits of city-states and not get shelled. Bulkhead here had been an Autobot for about twelve orbital-cycles, and just graduated from Wrecker training. Breakdown was one of his fellow graduates."

"Wait, back up," Miko said, and looked at Bulkhead in surprise. "Breakdown was a Wrecker? As in One-eye-beat-you-until-you're-a-pulp hulk guy? _That_ Breakdown?"

"Bulkhead and Breakdown used to be inseparable, always where the other was," Arcee said. "They were in the same caste, the Laborers. They built buildings together. They destroyed buildings together. They whistled at femmes together. And when the war broke out, they joined the Autobots together, and later the Wreckers together. Isn't that right?"

"... Yeah," was all Bulkhead said.

"It was around this time that the Decepticons started to look at Cybertron's moons as potential resources," Jazz continued. "First they went after Triax, then Daarn—"

"_The same moon I had my rescue mission,"_ Arcee quickly cut in through a comm-link, referring to the story she had told me one of the underwater rescue mission she had been on besides the one recently here on Earth. It had been a quick and simple mission of saving some scientists from a native invertebrate that decided the scientists' equipment and research station was too close to its nest, but still an entertaining story.

"—Then the Decepticons went to Loktas," Jazz went on, continuing to not use his accent. "They cleared out hundreds of camps in the moon's jungles and started mining energon immediately. They were getting so much energon from Loktas, Optimus decided we needed to relieve them of their energon mines. He sent two stealth frigates to scout where the Decepticons were most vulnerable, and each stealth frigate came with a team of Wreckers. Bulkhead and Breakdown were part of one of them."

The saboteur took another sip from his cube. "After the frigates arrived on Loktas, they split up to cover more ground. Bulkhead and Breakdown's group set up a base of operations in a cave, and the other group made their own base deep into the jungle. After helping set up their base, Bulkhead was told to get some recharge and Breakdown was made one of the first watchers of the night. Bulkhead was woken up by Breakdown about two breems later, and told by Breakdown that the two of them were to go out on a scouting mission immediately. Didn't explain why, only that the captain wanted them to scout the area around the base and offline any Decepticons that might be nearby. They left, and about twenty klicks later came upon a group of mechs moving through the jungle with only four armed. Now, Loktas is a very dark world at night, darker than any night of Earth; it's incredibly difficult to see more than thirty feet ahead of you at that time, and what you can see you can't see clearly, even when we adjust our optics to the darkness. Bulkhead wanted to wait for the group to pass by, but Breakdown wanted to take them all on. In the end, Breakdown won out and he and Bulkhead attacked. Bulkhead took one of outer guards down before he knew what happened, and Breakdown took out the other three in the same amount of time. Bulkhead was going to attack a second, but then he realized the mech in front of him wasn't a Decepticon."

I froze at the implication. Bulkhead didn't…

The Wrecker himself let his helm fall, hanging in a clear sign of regret.

"You mean…?" Jack asked, leaving the question hanging.

Jazz nodded. "The group Bulkhead and Breakdown attacked weren't made up of Decepticons—they were Autobots. They had been engineers that came along with the second group of Wreckers, and were in the process of searching for a good place to set up artillery units when Bulkhead and Breakdown attacked. When Bulkhead realized this, he yelled at Breakdown to stand down, since they were attacking friendlies… But Breakdown didn't. He slaughtered the whole group until it was just the mech Bulkhead hadn't attacked was left. He was a small mech by the name of Scud—good engineer, but had a big mouth, according to his record. Breakdown advanced on him, and when Bulkhead tried stopping him, Breakdown smacked him aside; this was when Bulkhead was a rookie, and Breakdown had been top of the class in melee. After disposing of Bulkhead, Breakdown told Scud that he should have chosen a different career path, and smashed his helm in with his hammer with an amused laugh. Then Breakdown left Bulkhead there and ran into the jungle, where he joined up with a Decepticon patrol a few miles away. We found out later that Breakdown had been feeding the Decepticons information since he was selected by the Wreckers, and had been ordered to eliminate the engineers of the second group of Wreckers, to prevent the Autobots from having firesupport. He slipped out of his sentry duties, brought Bulkhead along to make the job easier, then left to join his real comrades."

The room was as silent as a grave after Jazz finished speaking. Jack, Miko, and Raf looked stunned by the revelation, and I was with them.

Bulkhead was always such a friendly mech, always trying to take everything in stride. He had perhaps been the quickest to accept me into the Autobots while and after I was training, and never once did I think he carried around something like what Jazz just told us; he just didn't look like the sort who hid such a terrible thing.

Did that mean I looked like I was hiding a lot?

Miko walked over to Bulkhead—who was still sitting with his helm hung in shame—and hugged his pede. I could tell by the look in his optics that he appreciated the gesture, but remained motionless. "W… What happened after Breakdown left Bulkhead, Jazz?" She asked, her voice sad and quiet.

The saboteur took another sip from his cube, which was now nearly empty. "He went into shock, somehow managed to wander his way back to the group he arrived with, and babbled out everything he had done and how Breakdown had taken off. He was restricted to the base the group had made in the cave and relieved of his weapons, and a date was set for his trial for treason against the Autobot cause. On the grounds that he had been manipulated into attacking the group by Breakdown—and stopped attacking fellow Autobots upon realizing their identity, and attempting to stop Breakdown—Bulkhead was found not guilty."

"How did they reach that conclusion?" I asked, speaking out of logic. "All they had to go on was Bulkhead's testimony, and the offlined engineers. Breakdown was missing, yes, but he could have been taken out by a local predator—Loktas had massive organic carnivores."

Jazz's visor flashed in amusement, and a smile broke out on his faceplate. "Ah wasn' _always_ a saboteur."

"Jazz was an investigator at the time of the First Battles of Loktas," said my courted. "He conducted the investigation of Bulkhead's case, found the evidence that supported Bulkhead's testimony."

"How did you do that?" Raf asked Jazz.

"It wasn' easy," said Jazz. "No witnesses, no motive on Breakdown' part, and nothing ta say Bulkhead hadn' offlined everyone himself—he an' Breakdown use similar weapons. Ah went through all da offline bots' belongin's 'til Ah found somethin' dat stood out. Just before he left, da Wrecker Bulk' attacked downloaded a program on his data pad dat made it double as a camera. It recorded da the whole thing from da ground, proved Bulk' was tellin' da truth. Da committee in charge of da case dropped da charges, an' Bulk' went back ta da Wreckers. Took a long time da regain their full trust, though."

I looked back at Bulkhead, feeling I had a greater understanding of both his anger toward me and his own guilt over Autobots on Loktas. The Autobot you offlined ended up saving your own life."

The Wrecker nodded, his faceplate solem and subdued. "His name was Gridbreaker. He was a big mech, about your height and build. He had been an Enforcer before the war broke out, and joined the Autobots as soon as it did. During the ending of the Siege of Nudin, he earned the Star of Valor for single-handedly holding back Decepticon forces attempting to storm an evacuation point—more than five-hundred Decepticons fell to his rifle and axe, that cycle; and during the Burning of Fort Cyrain, he earned the Plate of Heroism for saving nineteen fellow Autobots stationed at Fort Cyrain by carrying them through burning debris to get them to the sole surviving troop transport. He got promoted for that, and eventually reached the rank of Captain. He was one of the original Wreckers, perhaps their best warrior… And I hit him in the back of the helm while he was checking over his soldiers. I offlined a war hero without even realizing it, and even then he still managed to save my own life. Even if he didn't realize it, he was watching out for me, a fellow Autobot… And I didn't look out for him."

It was… Shocking to hear the level of shame Bulkhead had in his voice. He had been hiding so much pain under the surface, so much regret and self-loathing, that it made it seem like what I was going through wasn't anywhere close to what he was.

What did that say about the kind of person I was?

"And, in a way, my actions are drawing a lot of parallels with what you went through and what Breakdown did," I concluded, not voicing my thought.

"In a way, yeah," Bulkhead confirmed.

"And it brought up that anger at Breakdown."

The Wrecker's servo clinched for a moment, then relaxed. "Yeah."

"But you ignored your own actions in your anger," Arcee pointed out.

Bulkhead sighed, and Miko hugged his pede tighter, looking up at him with a small smile. "I did."

"Not a smart move, Bulk'," said Jazz. "Ya don' wanna end up like da Doc Bot, do ya? All dat anger and throwin' of wrenches… Ya just don' have da accuracy to match him in dat."

All of us—including Bulkhead—shared a laugh at Jazz's statement. It wasn't the laughter usually associated with amusement: it was softer, longer, and it seemed to have a touch of a darker tone to it that eventually gave way to joy. It was a laugh uttered at the end of an emotionally-charged moment. It was the first sign that a conversation was returning to normal, that the mood could brighten again.

Saboteur always knew when to crack a joke, it seemed.

"So, where does all this leave you and I, Bulkhead?" I asked after our laughter died, giving the Wrecker a serious look as I sipped from my cube. "Are we friends again, or must I re-earn the right to call you that?"

Bulkhead was silent for a long time, gazing into his cube like it was a mystery from the Golden Age that could only be solved if he stared at it long enough. "We're not like we were before you were taken," he finally said, tearing his optics from his cube to look up at me. "But it's a start."

I considered his words for a micro-klick, found them fair, and raised my cube up a few inches in a toast. "I'll take that."

Bulkhead returned my gesture, but gave his cube a disappointed look when he noticed it was empty. "One moment. I need to fix this situation," he said, and stood up and carefully walked himself over to the nearest dispenser.

While Bulkhead went to the dispenser, I looked down at the teens. "And what about you three? You walked out of the war room, too."

The humans shared looks with each other, then Jack looked up at me. "We can all see you regret what you did, and that it brings you pain… But it's complicated."

"Hormones always are," Arcee said factually.

Jack blinked in surprise, but nodded. "Well, they're a factor. But, there's a little more to it."

"And what would that be?" I asked.

"Your protocol-thingy," Miko answered.

Ah. That's definitely a valid reason. "What particular part of it?"

"The fact it's… Terrifying," Raf said. "It turns into something else, something that isn't… You. You knew that, and you still encouraged it to activate when you were on the Hammer."

"Yeah… Yeah I did," I said.

"What we want to know is: why?" Jack asked, regaining his role as the speaker for the three teens. "Why would you search out for something like that?"

"Because I was weak, and I couldn't take the pain I was going through at that moment," I answered without hesitating—that was the only answer that I found fit with my actions.

The teens looked surprised by how blunt and self-demoralizing my answer was, and it caused Arcee to give me a mild glare.

"What pain are you talking about?" Jack asked.

"The bad kind," I said, not wanting to say more about this than I had to—even the memory of that moment hurt. "And like I said, I was too weak to go through it."

Arcee glared at me again. "You weren't weak, Shadow'. I should know, out of all bots."

"The bots that had been on the Hammer would say you're wrong about that."

"This conversation is starting to sound very much like the ones we had just after you returned to Earth."

I just grunted, hiding any words that may have come out of my mouth on their own accord by sipping from my cube.

"Um, what are you two talking about?" Asked Raf.

Arcee looked down at the youngest of the teens as Bulkhead returned from refilling his cube. "The pain he is referring to is him being told Optimus was offline, along with… Me."

"So, you couldn't stand the thought of Optimus and Arcee not being around?" Raf asked me.

I sighed quietly, resigning myself to the fact I wasn't going to just remain vague about this topic. "Mostly Arcee, as bad as that sounds. I love Arcee more than I thought possible, and what I felt when I was lied to about her fate is… Not something I can explain properly."

Arcee smirked at me, shaking her helm. "You're such a sap."

"Only with you."

Raf looked puzzled, clearly uncomprehending of the concept of loving someone the way I loved Arcee; however, Jack and Miko were sharing a look, and I could tell they were trying to determine how much the death of the other would affect them to try placing themselves in the position I had been in.

"I… Think I get it," Raf said after a moment, tone suggesting he didn't.

"It's okay if you don't," I said.

"Then I don't. Sorry."

Arcee shrugged. "No matter what species you are, Imprinting is not something that can really be understood by someone who's not in the same position."

Jack and Miko broke away from each other's gaze, looking up at Arcee and I. "We don't get it, either… But we at least have some idea," said Miko.

"It must have been… I can't even word it right," added Jack.

Yeah. Pretty much, Jack. "Neither can I," I said.

"If that was what caused you to do what you did, I don't think we should have acted in the way we did," Jack said. "You said you had been interrogated for a long time before you… Did what you did. You were sent beyond your limit, and felt as if everything you cared about was gone."

"And you still feel bad about it," Raf said, going with what Jack said. "You aren't standing by your actions or trying to get away from them—you believe they were wrong, and aren't trying to make it seem like they were minor. Personally, I shows me what your true character looks like."

"Same here," Miko and Jack agreed at the same time, causing them to give each other a humored look.

Did it? I wasn't sure. "What's your official opinion of me, then?" I asked, eager to continue on from this topic.

The teens thought for several micro-klicks, then Raf said, "Marred, but mostly the same."

Miko nodded. "I agree with that."

"Same," said Jack.

"Hmm… Seems dat my plans for a party migh' be startin' ta be get back on course…" Jazz suddenly re-entered in the conversation, tone mysterious.

The others chuckled at Jazz, but I found it difficult to do so after talking about my actions for so long. "Please, no parties, Jazz—all of our previous attempts have been a disaster. And that is the _universal_ opinion."

Arcee looked at me, seeing right through my words, and not pushing me on it. "You haven't been to a party Jazz has planned."

"It can't be much better than the ones that ended in failure."

"Dat hurts, Shadowster'!"

"You'd be surprised," Arcee went on, ignoring Jazz and continuing to try lifting me from my mood.

"I wouldn't bet on it," I said.

"There's high-grade cocktails, music—_lots _of music—lights, all the best stuff."

"Doesn't sound much better."

"If you agreed to it, you'd see how wrong you are."

"I'm not going to agree to it."

"That so?"

"Yup."

"But we haven't even danced since we started courting!"

"I don't dance."

"I bet you'd enjoy it."

"Probably wouldn't."

"Not with that attitude. It would just take agreeing to _one_ of Jazz's parties to change your processor."

"No."

"No to changing your processor, or no to having Jazz throw a party?"

"Both."

"Please?"

"No."

"Not even a little one?"

"Okay, yes."

"Really?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Because as I recall, Jazz pretty much sets a standard for his parties. Everyone needs to drink any kind of energon they want—so long as they enjoy it—laugh, have fun, and look their best. This would mean I would I have to find some polish… Would that interest you?"

"... Maybe."

Arcee smirked victoriously, leaned forward, kissed me quickly, then leaned against my side as the leftover feeling of electricity from our kisses faded away from my frame. "Now that's more like it. Much more like the Shadow' I know."

Jack and Miko looked at Raf, blinking rapidly. "I think we understand how you feel around us, now," Jack said.

Raf shook his head, suddenly looking deathly serious. "No… No you don't."

Everyone in the room laughed again, and—despite how difficult it was for me at the moment—I joined them.

* * *

><p>Breems later, I was walking down the hallway to my quarters to call it a cycle.<p>

I had spent the rest of Bulkhead, Jazz, and Arcee's recess from the med-bay in the rec room with them and the teens. We talked, laughed, shot the teens' trebuchet, and in general had a good time. After their time was up, I escorted them to the med-bay, then returned to my duties until the teens were picked up when June's shift ended and she picked them up. In all, I would say this solar-cycle had been a good one.

But, despite that, I never could completely get rid myself of the mood I had fallen in during the course of my conversations with Bulkhead and the teens. I still had fun with them all—and especially enjoyed Arcee's company—but not totally. I couldn't escape the mood even as I walked down the hallway. It was following me around, like a small cloud that floated over my helm.

No matter what I did, what I thought, my CPU always went back to one thing that stood out in my conversation: what was my true character?

Had I been in my true character since I returned to Earth, or was I pretending to be as I was before I was taken? Was my character before I was the Paraions' captive really my true character, or did I show my colors when I searched myself and activated my Protocol willingly?

Shaking my helm to rid me of the thought for a moment, I reached the door to my quarters and started entering the password.

The fact was, what I did on the Hammer changed me, and not for the better. I was carrying something around that I wouldn't have even been able to imagine two orbital-cycles ago, and it wasn't something I could just ignore. I had really slaughtered those Paraions', like they had meant nothing more than Goats. But the circumstances behind my actions hadn't been normal, and I hoped no one else would have to go through themselves. Had I shown my true character on the Hammer, or was someone's character determined by how they acted after they did something horrible?

I didn't know, and I lik—

A force rammed into my side, ripping me away from the door panel and pinning me against the wall, my helm breaking stone as it was slammed into the wall by a cold, CPU-numbing servo. I felt another cold servo trapping my left servo against the wall, but I couldn't see it due to the angle my faceplate and the servo on my helm.

My instinct and reflexes for battle kicked in, and I threw a blind punch at my attacker's tank.

My fist connected with a loud clang, but my attacker was not fazed; his armor was cold to the touch.

I struggled against the servos trapping me, using all of my strength to force my attacker back; the arrival of the Dinobots, Broadside, and Ultra Magnus may have repositioned me in our rankings of physically strongest bots, but I was still very strong and powerful.

The mech—for my attacker could only be a mech—who had slammed me into the wall didn't budge. His grip was like Primax, firm, powerful, and unyielding.

A chilling, twisted, distorted laugh came from my attacker. "**I**_** know what defines someone's true colors…"**_

I froze, even without the cold of my attacker's servos. That voice… It was twisted and distorted, but I could plainly hear its qualities underneath: it was deep, clear, and resonant. In a conversation, it was instantly recognizable and apparent; and in the field, it could have been used as a good battlefield voice, with practice.

It sounded like me.

"_**It was **_**fun**_** offlining all those bots, wasn't it? How many of them do you think screamed for mercy as you ripped off their helms? One? Five? Ten? Too many to count… So many murders in so short a time. And you just kept going, kept offlining them all. You didn't even spare the ones who were no threat. **_**That**_** is the showing of someone's true colors. That is **_**your**_** true colors. The colors of a murderer... How delightful."**_

As quickly as he appeared, the mech let go of me. And by the time I turned my helm, he was but gone—I only saw a flash of crimson optics and dark, shineless black armor surrounded by black steam.

The chilling and distorted laughter echoed down the hallway, sounding as if it came from everywhere at once. Then it cut out.

My spark was pulsing at a mile a micro-klick, my cooling fans activated loudly to cool my heated systems. I unconsciously backed up against the wall—briefly noting how the rock was no longer broken—and rapidly checked both sides of the hallway, feeling like a very small, and very scared sparkling.

What the _frag_ was _that_?

* * *

><p><strong>You know what I said last chapter, about not adding new plot elements? I didn't go against that; this is plot PROGRESSION. There's a difference... Don't look at me like that.<strong>

**Well, my Hard Month did not pan out for me as planned - I only wrote 10,000 words on my novel. Normally, I would not see that as a failure, but I do at this point since I was wanting to write several times that number. Also didn't get anything done on the first chapter of Last of the Wyrms.**

***Shrugs* Oh, well. There's always tomorrow, or whenever inspiration strikes me.**

**This chapter's credit song is "Three Days Grace - Animal I have Become" I am aware of this song's true meaning, but the way it flows seems just right with this chapter, and the ending I wrote. The central themes of the song and the chapter are also there. I think it fits just right.**

**Well, that's it. Please take a moment to leave some feedback, and feel free to send a message to me if you have a very particular question or are just shy about reviewing.**

**Thank you for reading, and I hope you all have a great day/night. :)**

**See you soon.**


	41. Cloudy Horizions

**This one carried on longer than I thought, and I am honestly surprised I was able to finish it almost a month quicker than my last one - writing has been slower than a snail on ice.**

**... I'm not sure that made sense.  
><strong>

**Fate Calls is three years old. Holy crap. I don't... I don't even know what to say. This story has been such a huge part of my writing life, and I can see a massive difference in my writing just by going back a dozen or so chapters. It's incredible to me. Thank you all who have favorited, followed, reviewed, or done all the above. Seeing feedback has been helping me push myself to find inspiration, and makes me want to make sure everything I write - even things that make no sense and won't ever see the light of day *see random stories I've started in the last two months just to write on something* - would be enjoyable to read. So thank you all, and especially those who've been here since the very beginning. It's touching to me to see how many people keep coming back. :)**

**Guest (Chapter 40) - I make almost all of it up. Calk it up to creativity.**

**Thanks for the review, but can I ask that if you leave more feedback, you keep that particular word out of it? I may use cursing in my stories, but I do set limits for myself on the usage.**

**Again, thank you.**

**smeeagain - I just try to do my best; I know - and occasionally talk to - several writers in this fandom alone that are far more skilled than I am. But I hope you keep enjoying this story, and that this update is as good or better than the last.**

**Thanks for the words and the review.**

**Guest (Chapter 37) - Not entirely; I like to think the Insecticons were all saying that at the same time.**

**Thanks for reviewing.**

**Guest (Chapter 38) - I know my own story, and i know how Shadowstreaker is processing things. The mind is a strange thing; it twists truths and presents logical lies. That is all I will say on that matter.**

**Secret - Well, not exactly. The bond between Rider and Dragon weakens the further they are away from one another; the bond between sparkmates never lessens. The bond of sparkmates is also a bond of romance, while Rider Dragon are bound in a very deep friendship.**

**... What? Did you think you're the only one who read the Inheritance Cycle? Haha.**

**Thanks for the review, and I hope you enjoy if you're still reading.**

**Guest (Chapter 32) - Sedative, actually. And as I asked of another reviewer, I would like it if that word was not used in reviews. I can't stop you from saying most things, but that is a word I will no longer tolerate in the review section.**

**Thank you for expressing your thought. Hope you're still reading to this point.**

**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.**

* * *

><p><strong>August 9, 4:45 A.M 2013 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

I sat at my workbench, examining the major parts of my disassembled Ion Displacer.

In the last twelve solar-cycles, most of my fellow Autobots had recovered from the ambush that crippled them and were now cleared for active duty, but Ratchet, Bumblebee, and Flareup were still in the med-bay for at least another mega-cycle. Optimus had yet to decide whether to build a starship or not, but I had seen him examine the base's blueprints several times. He also was busying himself by exploring the possibility of building an energy shield around the base, and mapping out an upgrade to the base's main reactor—a highly efficient generator that produced twice the amount of power a similarly-sized fusion reactor would generate—that would be needed to support the shield generator.

There had been only a few skirmishes in the last mega-cycle, and nothing serious. Out of them all, the only mission that had been out of the ordinary had been a scouting mission Arcee and Jazz conducted on Luna after we detected traces of energon on its surface. The source of the reading ended up being a lone neutral passing through the system in a beat-up personal starship, and he didn't stick around after Arcee and Jazz told him there was a large Decepticon presence in the system.

It also appeared that what I experienced in the hallway was a one-time event, as there had been nothing like it since that night; however, I was still disturbed by it. Had it even been real, or was it the product of the mental weariness of my earlier conversations, the regrets I had of what I did on the Hammer, both combined with a tired CPU? The processor tended to play tricks on you when you were tired—I _had_ been tired that night—and was focusing heavily on on a certain topic at the time, but something about it still didn't feel right.

Either way, it had definitely _felt_ real. And that made me unable to decide what to think about it, but I hadn't told anyone about that night. There was no point in making it a big deal, especially since a mega-cycle had past without anything similar happening to me.

A quiet scraping sound came from behind me, on or near my desk. It sounded like metal grating against metal.

In the time it took to blink, I stood up and snapped around, optics cold, Path Blaster deployed and aimed at the source of the noise, standing with my side facing out to make myself a smaller target.

A data pad on my desk I had placed upright against a stack of other data pads was several inches further forward than it had been before. A moment passed before a small Kangaroo Mouse came walking out from behind the data pad, clearly the reason why the it had slid forward. It squeaked once, as if happy to be alive. With good reason, too—the data pad would have crushed it like a bug.

I sighed in mild annoyance. Of all the things I had expected that sound to be, I hadn't considered a Kangaroo Mouse to be one to be the source of it. I didn't even know how it got in here. Or _why_ it was in here, since there was nothing in my quarters it could eat. The most logical conclusion was that it wandered into the base from the entrance tunnel and couldn't get out, and entered my quarters when I opened them when I went to recharge breems ago.

But no matter its reasons for being here or how it got in my quarters, I had still just deployed a weapon against a mammal that was smaller than the tip of my digit. More than a little overkill.

Scoffing at the same time the Kangaroo Mouse suddenly made its way off my desk and scurried to a corner of the room, I returned my servo to normal and sat back down at my workbench. This was the third time I had deployed a weapon in my quarters since my experience right outside the door, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

The first time I reacted like I just had was when my energon dispenser broke and shut itself down to prevent energon from being wasted, and I had deployed my swords as soon as I heard it break. The second reaction was caused by a souvenir from one of my shelves falling over because I hadn't balanced it correctly, causing me to deploy my missile launchers. And now a Kangaroo Mouse shifting a data pad made me deploy my Path Blaster. It seemed like I was becoming jumpy, paranoid about things when I was alone. Too jumpy.

Still, not enough to warrant sharing with anyone just yet. People usually experienced a high amount of stress and agitation after going through an event that affected them and left them feeling more fearful and paranoid than normal. I went through something similar after my human mother was killed; I would be fine.

Probably.

I picked up the power converter of my Ion Displacer, examining it on a closer level than the other parts laid out before me.

For being one of the most important parts of a very large and powerful weapon, the tubular power converter was remarkably small at only two feet long, with a diameter of eight inches. As its name suggested, it provided power to the Ion Displacer and converted my energon into the weapon's ammunition. It accomplished this task _very_ efficiently—every milliliter of my energon allowed the Ion Displacer to fire a two micro-klick burst; however, it lacked… Something. Each round it produced was undoubtedly powerful, but the Ion Displacer had been such a deadly weapon during the war on Cybertron that both sides developed countermeasures designed specifically to make bullets fired from an Ion Displacer less effective and powerful. Such materials were rare and difficult to produce, but I had encountered them before, and my battle with the Paraions who captured me in Maine showed their own armor was even more resistant to my Ion Displacer.

What I wanted to do was find a way to upgrade my Ion Displacer, and preferably also my Nucleon and missile launchers. I had been wanting to upgrade them for a while, but never seemed to have the time away from my duties—or the motivation—to do so. But now, my suspension gave me a short list of duties, and my experience almost two mega-cycles ago was making me recharge uneasily and online earlier than normal. I had yet to succeed in returning to recharge after onlining early, so why not spend the extra time on something productive and upgrade my arsenal?

The problem was, I had no idea how I was going to do that.

The power converter of the Ion Displacer was already about as efficient and powerful as our current Tier of technology allowed, and my other weapons were already modified and improved from normal, factory models. To get even more performance out of my weapons, I was going to do more than modify a few parts and adjust a few settings—I was going to have to essentially rebuild them from the inside out.

With any of other weapons I had in my possession, I would have gotten straight into the process of rebuilding, but with weapons like these—in particular my Nucleon—such a task could leave the weapon less effective, efficient, or could even turn it into a time bomb waiting to go off in my servo when I used them. By trying to upgrade something without knowing what it did, I could end up blowing myself up. Before I could even get to the stage of planning out _how_ I could improve my heavy weapons, I needed to know the role of every last part inside them.

A very long, boring task, when my Nucleon alone was made up of more than fifty-thousand individual parts. No wonder I never could work up the motivation to work on my weapons.

Checking my internal clock and seeing what time it was, I placed the power converter of my back down on my desk, and started to reassemble my Ion Displacer. It was already almost time for me to take up the next shift at the space bridge, and I didn't want to leave my Ion Displacer in parts on my desk.

By the time I reassembled my Ion Displacer, I knew I was going to be late for my shift. Not very late, but still late. I placed the rotary cannon on my backplates, stood up, filled two cubes of energon—one for whoever had the last space bridge shift, as a small apology for being late, and one for myself—and walked into the hallway after unlocking my door as the cubes filled; the Kangaroo Mouse ran out of my quarters once the door opened, then scurried down the hallway in the opposite direction of the ops center.

I reached the ops center a short time later and looked at the workstation to see who had been given space bridge duty before my shift.

It was Jetfire. He was sitting a chair he must have taken from his quarters, servos crossed as he stared up at the mainscreen. His posture was a bit more relaxed and slouched than it usually was. He was likely tired.

The seeker looked at me as I approached, and from looking at his optics I knew I was right in assuming he was tired; his optics were dimmer than usual, and the look in them was one of exhaustion. "You're late, youngling."

"One klick and seven micro-klicks late, to be exact. Sorry, took a bit longer to reassemble my Ion Displacer than I accounted for." I stepped up next to his chair and offered him one of the cubes I was carrying. "This work as a proper apology?"

Jetfire took the offered cube from my servo with a look of indifference, but I could tell he was grateful for the cube. "Hm. Be a breem late next time. Maybe then I can get some high-grade for waiting on you." He took a long drink from the cube before lowering it and continuing to gaze at the screen, clearly content to keep sitting at least until his cube was empty. "So, why exactly did you need to reassemble your Ion Displacer?"

"I want to upgrade it, and to do that I need to know how everything works on the inside. I started with its main parts, but didn't make a lot of progress before I had to come here."

"You want to upgrade your Ion Displacer? Hm. That's a good idea, given how often we're outnumbered and going against enemies with thick armor. But it's going to be a lengthy project for you; you need to study thousands of parts before you can modify any of them."

"Believe me, I know. I'm not even sure where to start with my missile launchers, let alone my Ion Displacer But, at least I will have some experience dealing with small parts by the time I get around to my Nucleon—it has twice as many parts as my Ion Displacer."

Jetfire raised an optic ridge. "You want to upgrade your Nucleon and missile launchers, too? Why?"

"If I'm going to spend a lot of time upgrading my Ion Displacer, why not do the same for my Nucleon and missiles?" I asked rhetorically, taking a drink from my own cube. "Besides, I've wanted to upgrade all of them for a while, now—I just haven't gotten around to making time for it. But, now I have… Time to spare, so I figured I would use it for something."

The seeker's optics narrowed suspiciously for a reason I didn't know, but he quickly returned his gaze to normal. Odd. "Since I'm of the opinion that you can't modify your weapons enough, I think that's a good use some of your free time. But, it also isn't necessary."

Now it was my turn to raise an optic ridge. "What do you mean?"

Jetfire wordlessly reached down to his side—the side I couldn't see due to him facing in the same direction as me—and pulled out one of the sleek pistols we recovered from the station and held it out to me. It was a pistol we had taken to calling an Arrow. It was the smallest and lightest of the three types of pistols we found on the station, and had the fewest parts rotating around its main body, but it was also the most accurate and fired the most rounds to a single power crystal. It fit perfectly with Jetfire's fighting style.

I took the pistol from Jetfire's servo and examined it. "You've started using the weapons we recovered," I observed.

"Not just me—we all are. After the disaster of our rescue mission in the Indian Ocean, Optimus wants us to carry at least one Paraion weapon along with our personal ones."

"When did he tell you that?" I asked, returning Jetfire's Arrow to him.

"Last night, once most of us were up and around and could go out on patrols."

"And he had everyone chose their own Paraion weapons to use?"

"Everyone who wasn't still confined to the med-bay and wanted to use them."

That was… Strange. I hadn't been told we were going to start using the Paraion weapons; it was the logical thing to do, considering how many of them we had and the fact Optimus knew how to create more ammo with my carrier's Forge, but he never mentioned that he wanted to finally make them standard issue.

"Optimus didn't tell me he wanted us to start using Paraion weapons," I said, pushing aside my thoughts of Arcee not talking to me about something as small as a new weapon.

Jetfire shrugged. "Probably because you're suspended; there isn't much of a point in having you pick out a weapon when you're not going to use it."

Hmm. That made sense. Until I was back to active duty, I had virtually no use for a Paraion weapon—or any weapon, really. Optimus knew that, so why bother telling me to pick a Paraion weapon when I wouldn't be using it for the foreseeable future? "Who picked out Paraion weapons and what did they choose?"

The seeker paused for a moment, sipping from his cube, then replied, "Well, the Dinobots refrained from taking any weapons they didn't already have, and Optimus didn't want to force anyone to do that; Bulkhead and Ironhide now carry Vaporizers with them in the field; Springer, Ultra Magnus, and Optimus are using some of those over-sized rifles—Miko insists we call them, 'Thunder Heavy Rifles,' because of how loud they are. Stupid name, in my opinion. Anyway, Chromia took a Vortex Rotary Cannon—crazy femme; Smokescreen has a Manipulator Combat SMG; Override and Air Raid picked out Nova Auto Shotguns; Elita, Silverbolt, and Jazz picked some simple, light assault rifles we can't find a name for, so we decided to name them, 'LARs,' since their basic classification forms an equally basic name; M—"

"Rapiers."

"What?"

"Call them Rapiers," I repeated. "They're a type of human sword that originally was commonly used on the battlefield, but slowly shifted to civilian use. It's a thin, sharp blade primarily made for thrusting and fast attacks, but it can hold its own against a heavier weapon if need be. Those light assault rifles seem to be made for bots who want to have firepower, but also don't want to sacrifice their own maneuverability. The name seems to fit."

"It does. I'll run that by everyone else, see what they think." Jetfire sipped from his cube again, which already was close to being empty. "As I was saying before you interrupted, Moonracer chose a new sniper rifle, a Titan, I believe—thing could put a hole the size of my chestplates in a gunship, when fully charged; and finally, the twins and I took Arrows."

I waited for him to say what Arcee chose as her Paraion weapon, but even after several micro-klicks of silence, he didn't. I asked, "What about Arcee's choice? There's no way she wouldn't have picked one out."

Jetfire shrugged again. "She didn't pick one. She said she wanted time to consider each option, but in my opinion, I think she wants you to help her choose."

I let out a quiet chuckle, low enough to only barely be audible. Arcee needing help picking a weapon, there's something I've never seen or heard of.

"Don't laugh—I'm serious. Wanting your help is the only reason I can think of why she hasn't taken a weapon yet."

"She doesn't need my help to just pick out a weapon," I said.

"No, but she _wants_ your help," said Jetfire. "There is a big difference between needing help and wanting help. Needing help is when you encounter something you can't understand or accomplish on your own; wanting is desiring help from someone to make a task easier, or to just enjoy someone's company. You two are courted. Do the math, youngling."

That's… Huh. When Jetfire puts it like that, Arcee wanting my help was actually logical. She could choose a weapon on her own, of course—she was far from being ignorant like Override when it came to choosing an alt mode from human vehicles, or the twins' flirting—but she wanted my help because I was her courted, and she wanted to spend that little extra time with me. A lot like how Moonracer wanted Ratchet to help her pick an alt mode when she arrived on Earth. Jetfire's quite insightful.

"I see your point," I said, sipping from my cube. "Wouldn't make sense, coming from Arcee a few jours ago, but it does now."

"Thought you would agree." The seeker finished off his cube and stood up from his chair. "Well, I have patrol in a few breems, so I'm going to get some recharge before then. Have a good shift, youngling." He set the cube down, grabbed his chair, and started for the hallway.

"Recharge well, Jetfire," I said as he walked by me, then turned to the workstation to start my shift at the space bridge.

The steady beat of Jetfire's pedes hitting the floor slowed down, then halted entirely.

For a moment, I continued looking at the workstation, keeping an audio receptor out for Jetfire continuing on his journey to his quarters, but he never did—he remained standing in place.

Curiously, I turned my helm to look over at the motionless seeker.

He was standing only a few feet from the hallway, half turned toward me with his chair still gripped in his left servo. His faceplate was uncertain, optics narrowed, but also not looking at anything around him. One of his digits quietly tapped the chair he held in a metallic, hollow beat.

"Something wrong?" I asked when he continued to stand there silently. It seemed like he was having an internal debate, but I didn't know what it was about.

My words seemed to end whatever debate Jetfire was having, since he turned fully toward me after I spoke. His faceplate was determined now, the tapping of his digit had ceased, and in his optics was the same suspicion they briefly held when I explained why I was trying to upgrade my heavy weapons. "Why were you working on your Ion Displacer, when you were already onlining earlier than your usual time?"

So, he knew I wouldn't even normally be up this early in the cycle, let alone get up even _earlier_ to work on my Ion Displacer; he suspected there was another reason why I was online so early. Observant, and even more so than usual for him.

I kept looking at the workstation. "I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked."

"No, but you were getting around to asking how I was."

Jetfire ignored my observation approached me, soon appearing in my peripheral vision. "I known you long enough to know when there's something bothering you—you're good hiding it, but I know. And whatever it is that's bothering you, I get the feeling is more than you think it is. More serious. I feel that sooner or later—preferably sooner—you're going to need to share it with someone."

I pretended to busy myself with checking the patrol route of Silverbolt and Air Raid, who currently were flying high above South Africa.

The seeker sighed slowly at my silence. "I also know when you're set on not talking about something. But you should think about talking to someone, Shadowstreaker. Arcee would be your best choice, for obvious reasons. Keep me in the dark about whatever is bothering you for as long as you like, but don't keep secrets from your courted—it won't end well."

I stopped myself from showing any guilt. I knew I should have told Arcee immediately after my experience in the hallway, but I didn't want to give her any unnecessary stress; it was my issue to deal with, not hers. "I'm _fine_."

A single, humorless chuckle came from Jetfire. "You're not a good liar, youngling." He turned and walked away with that short statement, quickly disappearing into the hallway.

After Jetfire left, I let myself relax a little bit, loosened my guard. I didn't like being so cold around friends, especially one I got along with as well as Jetfire, but I couldn't—_wouldn't_—discuss it unless absolutely necessary. Never before had something made me so tense, so jumpy; talking about it was only going to make me relive it again and again and again, and that would only make my experience seem worse than it was.

No, what I really needed was what helped me the most through my human mother's death: time. Time to relax; time to process the event; time to recover; time to get over it. Talking about my human mother's shooting never helped me, never helped get rid of the anger and sadness that had settled in my organic heart. Time had. And time would help me again with this; I didn't need to tell anyone unless I experienced another similar event, and even then talking was only an option.

A rustle came from behind me, so faint I almost didn't hear it.

My helm snapped around in an instant, optics rapidly scanning the darkness for a potential source of the sound, fists clenched and ready to hit whatever was approaching.

The Kangaroo Mouse that had been in my quarters wiped dirt from its face with its front paws, whiskers twitching as it cleaned itself.

… Maybe talking to someone wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

* * *

><p><strong>(Human calendar) August 9, 2013 10:10 A.M<strong>

**(Cybertronian date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since the end of the Golden Age)**

**Decepticon War Cruiser Nemesis, low Earth orbit, somewhere above Brazil**

"You _dare_ to keep secrets from me? _Me?!_" Megatron yelled, his voice booming inside the bridge of the Nemesis. "I am _Megatron_, Lord of the Decepticons! And I do not tolerate my underlings withholding information!" He slammed the side of his Fusion into Shockwave's helm, and the scientist spun and fell to a knee-joint from the blow.

Megatron, Starscream, and Soundwave returned to Earth from their visit to _Project:Overlord_ only a few breems ago. They would have returned a mega-cycle ago, but one of the space bridges in their route was damaged by a comet; in order to return to Earth, they had to travel to another space bridge a mega-cycle's journey away by standard FTL. And when they returned, Shockwave had taken it upon himself to update Megatron on all the developments that occurred while he was away.

The Decepticon leader had not been pleased.

And now, he and Megatron stood on the platform in the center of the bridge, surrounded by the Nemesis' officers—along with a smug-looking Starscream—as Megatron publicly berated and punished Shockwave. Off to the side, Soundwave captured everything he saw and sent it system-wide and beyond through a link his processor had to the Nemesis' computer system.

Calmly and orderly, Shockwave stood back up on both pedes. Unlike Starscream, who usually was the one being punished by Megatron for something he had done, the scientist knew better than to cower, ask for a pardon, fight back, or even flinch when struck. All of this—the public setting, the officers all gathered together, the live feed—was a game, a stage show Megatron used to send a message to other Decepticons. It made him look powerful, fierce, and willing to dish out pain to even his highest lieutenants. That particular part usually created one thought in the Decepticon ranks: if he treats his lieutenants like that, what will he do to us, if we fail him?

But Megatron was not the only one who knew how to play on the stage.

If Shockwave appeared unfazed and unintimidated by Megatron, it would show other Decepticons that Megatron was not quite as powerful as he made himself out to be. And if he intelligently explained his actions and offered a logical counter argument when Megatron questioned him, those same Decepticons may just begin to question their loyalty.

And when a mech's conviction weakened, he was more susceptible to changing his loyalties.

No, Megatron was not the only one who knew how to play on the stage.

Megatron knocked Shockwave back to the floor with a punch to the tank, followed quickly by a dropped elbow-joint to the scientist's backplates when he purposefully doubled over from the first blow. "Not only have you intentionally kept information from me, Commander Shockwave—you also have allowed the Autobots to sabotage one of our backup data banks, and learn valuable information that have crippled or compromised many of our operations! All under _your_ watch!" He kicked Shockwave's tank while he was still on the ground. "Do you not understand the importance of _secrecy?!_ Of making sure our sworn enemies do _not_ learn of our troop movements, the way our armor is made, and the locations of valuable energon mines? Do you seek to actually _aid_ them, instead?!"

As before, Shockwave stood up calmly. Megatron was using the data theft to paint Shockwave's actions in a negative light. He had also not lied about what data had been compromised—he had simply not mentioned the fact more than ninety-five percent of the data was logistics for operations already known to the Autobots. Interesting. "Of course not, Lord Megatron. Never once have I purposefully or inadvertently assisted the Autobots."

Megatron grabbed onto Shockwave's optic and faceplate. Then he threw the scientist across the elevated platform in the center of the bridge and into a console, which broke as soon as Shockwave made contact with it. The gladiator yelled furiously after he tossed Shockwave, like an enraged Lion. "Then explain yourself! Justify your failures! Show me your that your life is still valuable to me!"

"I did not inform you I had recaptured the Dinobots because I did not have them under control." Shockwave picked himself up again, brushing tiny pieces of the destroyed console off his armor. "They are among the most dangerous of our enemies, and I wished to minimize their threat to you and your forces by keeping them in isolation until they were permanently subdued. If I had accomplished my goal of bending their CPUs to the Decepticon cause, I would have gladly brought them to you to command as you saw fit, Lord Megatron. But, unfortunately, I did not succeed; the Dinobots have proven themselves too wild and unpredictable be tamed with such methods."

"I am aware of this. I was aware of it the moment you listed the casualties of your failed attempt to stop them from escaping! But your sins are greater than simply not giving a full account of your prisoners. You had a highly-valuable commander in your prison—Ultra Magnus himself—and you did give any indication that you had captured him. All commanders are required—by order of _me_—to report the capture of a high value target immediately! You had one of our most influential enemies, in chains, and you said _nothing_ of it through _any_ communications channel!"

"And that is precisely why I did not send word to you, Lord Megatron. Communications can be hacked, spies can leak, and bots can talk under interrogation. Ultra Magnus was too great a foe to let his capture become common knowledge. If I sent a message informing you of Ultra Magnus' capture, the likelihood of it being intercepted would have been very high—Autobots search for keywords in our communications. They would have sent an army to recover him, perhaps several. I had to be certain he was secure before I came to you with his capture. And, evidently, he was not secure."

Megatron's optics flashed in rage. "If you had told me you were holding them prisoner, this situation would have been avoided!"

"On the contrary, Lord Megatron—the situation would have been much more devastating."

"Make your point, Commander Shockwave."

"Why, we would have lost you, Lord Megatron. The Dinobots are not some of our most dangerous enemies because of their strength; their power comes from a fanatical hatred of our cause, and in particular, you. Ultra Magnus shares this hatred. They waited until I believed the Dinobots were held securely to escape from my confinement. If they had seen you at any point, they would have moved their plans ahead and attacked you. Their attack would have been suicidal, but why would that matter to them, if they offlined you before we returned the favor? It would have been illogical of me to present them to you before they were already under control—they were a threat to your safety."

Megatron snarled and crossed the distance between them. His fists—first the left, then the right—connected with Shockwave's helm and chestplates. Then he grabbed the scientist's cannon and twisted it around so far, Megatron could have snapped the weapon off by applying just a little more pressure to where the Pulse Cannon met what remained of Shockwave's servo. "You do not decide what is a threat to me, _Shockwave!_ _I_ decide _what _is a threat, _I_ decide _who _is a threat, and _I_ decide how that threat is _obliterated!_" He slammed a knee-joint into Shockwave's faceplate, then spun around and tossed Shockwave off and center platform and down into a bank of computer monitors, causing a few technicians who still needed to work during Megatron's broadcast to scatter away from their stations.

Starscream chuckled lowly with genuine glee, and—as he happened to be standing one level above and not far from where Shockwave fell—said down to the scientist, "Don't worry—it'll only get worse."

Shockwave paid no attention to Starscream and slowly moved onto his backplates, looking up at Megatron above him, careful to appear as if he had actually been hurt by the assault. The Decepticon leader was dropping Shockwave's official rank. Careless on Megatron's part; now it appeared Shockwave was not only being beaten for a failure, but also a victim of a personal vendetta of Megatron's. And there was an audience. Excellent. "I had only the most pure intentions for the Decepticon cause, Lord Megatron."

"I do not care what your intentions were! You kept information from me! Such an act of disobedience is unacceptable!" Megatron powered up his Fusion Cannon.

Shockwave braced himself in the nano-klick he had before Megatron's Cannon reached full power.

The following explosion deafened every unsuspecting bot in the room, and only bots who braced themselves besides Megatron were Soundwave and Shockwave. It tore through Shockwave's armor as if it had been made of paper, showered his faceplate in molten metal and heat, created a hole in his shoulder-joint that was larger than his fist, and cut off power to his Pulse Cannon. Energon began pouring from the wound at a rapid rate; a major vein had been severed.

Most bots would screamed, bursting into tears in mere moments from the searing pain of having a literal _hole_ being created in their shoulder-joint—with still-molten metal on their faceplate and _optic_, no less.

Shockwave merely stood up, brushed the hot metal on his optic and faceplate before it cooled, and pinched his severed vein shut to allow his nanites more time to stop the leaking.

He briefly activated his jets, propelling him up to the platform to stand next to Megatron once again. The Decepticon leader stared at Shockwave as if he wanted to toss the scientist back down off the platform. "Lord Megatron, I believe that was unnecessary and illogical, on your part."

Megatron wrapped his servo around Shockwave's neck, optics blazing furiously. "I was punishing a mech who has failed our cause—_my_ cause! What punishment I decide to inflict is never illogical when it comes to failures."

"Failures, Lord Megatron? You speak as if I have been a burden on the Decepticon cause, even from the start. I have not. I have created dozens of weapons, alloys, and materials that have given us the ability to destroy a city and rebuild it within cycles. I have made scientific discoveries no one else has come close to achieving. I found how to unlock the space bridges around Cybertron, and unlocked the secrets of recreating the technology. I have conquered cities, regions, planets, and entire star clusters in your name. Without me, the Decepticon cause—your cause—would not have succeeded as it has."

"You kept information from me!"

"For logical reasons."

"Reasons that led to you failing me!"

"A mistake I have payed for in time and resources, and do not plan on repeating."

The grip on Shockwave's neck tightened, and the look in Megatron's optics became deathly calm. "If you do not wish to fail me again, answer this: are you keeping the existence of other prisoners from me?"

Shockwave replied, "There are no prisoners in my captivity that you are unaware of."

Megatron searched Shockwave's optic for a moment, then growled and shoved Shockwave backwards, releasing his grip on the scientist's neck. "See to it that you do not fail me again, Commander Shockwave." He gestured to Soundwave to cut the transmission.

A micro-klick past, then Soundwave lowered his helm half an inch to show it had been done.

Megatron turned and walked toward the front of the bridge. "Knockout." The red and white Decepticon medic jumped at his sudden use of his name. "Make sure Commander Shockwave does not lose his servo." His helm turned halfway over his shoulder-joint. "Again."

Knockout moved toward Shockwave, but the larger mech released his hold on his ruptured vein and waved the medic off. "I do not require medical attention; I will treat the injury on my own." He walked toward the bridge door without waiting for Knockout to acknowledge him.

The door opened, and the two Insecticon guards who accompanied Shockwave saluted and hailed his name.

Shockwave ignored them and kept walking.

He kept walking until he reached his HAC-177 and was standing behind the pilot. And after the heavy gunship detached from the Nemesis and returned to Shockwave's base on Earth, he released the Insecticons from guard detail and continued walking.

Eventually, he reached his official lab, entered his secret lab, and approached a lone chair off to the side. It was only there, in front of the chair, that Shockwave stopped walking.

He sat down, and instantly a collection of mechanical arms and tools lowered from the ceiling and circled around Shockwave. One began removing damaged sections of Shockwave's armor, one examined the areas of his optics that had been covered in molten metal, and offered a cube of energon, and three started to treat the wound in his shoulder-joint. "Computer—reroute to medical station."

His computer terminal folded down into floor, going into sleep mode. A narrow hole appeared near the medical station, and a smaller version of the terminal slid up next to Shockwave. It was powered up by the time it appeared at Shockwave's side, its screen displaying a number of messages that were sent to his computer while he was being punished by Megatron.

The displayed items were reports from minor experiments and notifications from various Decepticons under his command, primarily: results from a new formula of explosive; a notification that his new type of power generator ended with the destruction of the prototype; an update on final repairs to the base; a request from Skycharger to add an additional cannon to Shockwave's HAC-177; a report listing the names of a group of new soldiers arriving later in the cycle along with a delivery of supplies. Nothing that warranted his immediate attention.

He was about to turn off the terminal, when a new notification appeared on the screen. This one contained the results of a scan he began to run just before he left for the Nemesis. A scan he was eager to know the result of.

A scan of a distant Drop he had been viewing of the Multiverse.

_Analysis of Drop 7J1B9O, designation—Coeptum: Complete._

_Barrier strength: Moderate._

_Number of Impression remnants detected: 78,243._

_Realities contained within: Innumerable._

_Dominant race: Unknown._

_Potential for reality selection: High._

As Shockwave read the scan results, a feeling of satisfaction creeped into Shockwave before he crushed it. This was good news—very good news, as the other Drops he had scanned were unfit for travel—but any emotion he felt could hamper the work he now needed to do. Emotion was illogical; Shockwave would not allow it to affect him.

Shockwave finally powered down the terminal and patiently waited for the medical station to finish repairing his shoulder-joint. When it had, the scientist stood from the chair and moved to another part of his secret lab. He came to a door a short time later, entered the password for it to open, and stepped inside once the door unlocked.

The duraglass container holding the Star Saber sat on a raised platform with a number of scientific instruments gathered around it. The Universal Bridge was not far away from the Star Saber, powered down as it always was; cages made from high-strength alloy were near the Universal Bridge.

When Shockwave began to study the Star Saber, he found that the blade was not only multiple times older than any planet or star Shockwave had ever seen, but the material it was forged of—an alloy of more pure Primax than Shockwave believed was possible—had properties he could not explain, and those he could explain he did not understand: the ability to change any form of known energy into the type of energy the wielder of the Star Saber desired; could not only change energy, but store and even multiply the energy it was given by a thousandfold; and it was so hard, it should have been brittle enough to be shattered by a breath of wind, but remained intact no matter what Shockwave did to it through hyper-accurate computer simulations. The scientist could not explain how the material could even be in existence.

But, during that time of study, Shockwave also discovered that the Star Saber indeed held the secret to making his Universal Bridge work; however, the answer was not what he expected: literally cutting a hole into the Multiverse.

The Star Saber was so sharp, it could cut a door out of one reality and into another, allowing its wielder to travel inter-universally at will if they knew what they were doing and how to return. The action of cutting into the very fabric of reality broke every law of science Shockwave knew, even more so than the laws the space bridges broke, but he could not argue with the effectiveness of it. It was the easiest method of traveling through the Multiverse, from what he had found, but it was not the only way; he knew from the rare datapad detailing the exploits of the Thirteen that they could open pathways to other realities at will, without any weapon or tool. That particular form of travel was far beyond Shockwave.

That being said, a stable, wormhole-type portal—like any ground bridge, space bridge, or his Universal Bridge—would also allow entry to other realities. But, the wormhole needed precise coordinates to work, which was why Shockwave needed to scan Drops within the Multiverse to find potential realities he could travel to.

Unfortunately, no wormhole was stable enough for inter-universal travel; it required a _very _particular stabilizing element—an element Shockwave had no knowledge of how to create, and suspected he never would. But fortunately for him, the residential energy the Star Saber was constantly giving off—a phenomena associated with the combination of the Thirteen and the nearly pure Primax. Shockwave suspected—could be harnessed by keeping power collectors within a thirty foot radius of the Star Saber and used to stabilize the Universal Bridge. All he needed to do was power the Bridge up, and use the Star Saber's energy to stabilize the portal to another reality.

A simple task, for one of his skill in science.

Shockwave moved to the Universal Bridge's control console. On the computer program he used to display a simplified version of the Multiverse for him to interact with, he searched through the Drops he knew of, each represented by a tiny, blue droplet of water above a black ocean. He finally found the water droplet that represented the Drop Coeptum, and selected it A countless amount of new droplets—so many that a thousand of them could fit within a square millimeter of the screen—appeared in place of the original droplet. Each new droplet represented another reality.

Shockwave randomly selected one of the droplets—there were too many to even single out. Then he activated the Universal Bridge.

A deep hum filled the room as the device powered up, and a large portal quickly formed in the center of the Bridge. Unlike a ground bridge and most space bridges, the portal in front of him was yellow and almost blindingly bright, crackling with energy. It appeared cloudy to his optic, the other side impossible to see.

Then the collectors gathering the Star Saber's residential energy activated.

The portal became dimmer and stopped crackling with energy. The cloudiness of the portal subsided. And Shockwave saw that a transparent, yellow bridge had formed from his side of the Universal Bridge, crossed a short tunnel of black space, and ended at another portal that led into a very dense jungle of blue, organic trees.

The sight of the working Bridge almost made Shockwave want to laugh with joy.

Almost.

Attaching a remote control he created for the Universal Bridge—a control that would allow him to open the Bridge from across realities—Shockwave stepped away from the control console and took his first step into the Universal Bridge.

It seemed the first phase of _Project: Predacon_ was free to begin.

He just needed to find its first unsuspecting participant.

* * *

><p>"I hate this show, Miko."<p>

"What?! How can you hate it?! It's great!"

"Every episode ends on some kind of cliffhanger, some sort of situation that complicates everything or presents more questions. There's only so many of those I can take before it gets old and I want answers."

"Not one for suspenseful writing, Bulkhead?" Asked Springer from his chair, chuckling lightly at how the broader Wrecker was sulking at the screen in the rec room.

"Shut up, Springer. You've practically started dressing up as the main character."

"What? For a human, he's a badaft! I love badaft characters."

"He uses a bow and arrow—he's an idiot," said Broadside, taking up an entire couch on his own due to his massive size. "No matter what kind of technology you add to them, bows are vastly inferior to cannons. Show me this 'Oliver' carrying around an anti-tank cannon, and then you can start calling him a badaft."

"He can throw knives and use hand-to-hand combat, too," Springer said. "With or without his bow, he can still kill everyone in a room without using a modern weapon."

"So can Jazz and Arcee, but they still carry some form of _cannon_. A bow is a bow, and a cannon is a cannon. In real life, you won't last a klick on the battlefield carrying a bow."

"A cannon may be a cannon, but there _are _advantages to a bow that a cannon can't match," Ironhide added in, sitting on the same couch as Bulkhead, although on the opposite side.

"Pile of slag, there are. You can't blow up a building with a bow."

"You know, I've known a few Cybertronians who'd disagree with ya."

"That doesn't make them smart."

"And it doesn't make you right," Ironhide pointed out.

"How can you get tired of this show?" Miko asked Bulkhead, ignoring the other argument taking place in the room. "Name one show that's better than this."

"Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D."

Miko gasped and narrowed her eyes dangerously. "You dare."

I smiled from where I leaned against the wall, watching and listening as the Wreckers—plus one human—argued back and forth over different topics: a cannon versus a bow, and who would come out on top if each respective weapon was wielded by a master; whether Arrow—the show we had been watching—could get boring or more exciting; and, as a result of the continued debate between Bulkhead and Miko, who was better—DC or Marvel.

It was exactly what I needed after a long, uneventful shift of space bridge duty; and the surprising, irritating news that Jack was going to be working a double shift today at KO Burger. Meaning no Arcee until next cycle, when Jack was off of work.

Meaning I had to wait longer than I expected to finally just _talk_ about what attacked me—it wouldn't be right to talk to someone about it before I told my courted.

I guess I was lucky this cycle had been quiet so far, allowing the Wreckers more time on base than they usually had. They always were entertaining to watch, and I needed a laugh or two after learning Arcee wasn't able to return to base for the entire cycle.

Springer looked at me as the debates continued to rage on. "What's your stance on all this, Shadowstreaker?" The others also turned after Springer asked the question, looking at me expectantly.

I thought for a moment, considering each side to each argument. "Personally, I'm a cannon type of mech. B—"

"Thank you!" Broadside interrupted.

"_But_," I stressed. "I haven't seen or used a Cybertronian bow, let alone witness one in action. I prefer cannons and am admittedly a bit sceptical of a bow being used by a Cybertronian, but I can't judge without seeing one. So, I can't say with certainty that one is better than the other. That being said, Oliver is very skilled, and unless I was prepared, I wouldn't want to face him in combat if he was a Cybertronian." I looked at Miko and Bulkhead. "I find the 'War' between DC and Marvel to be pointless; I like both, and which one I prefer depends on what I feel like reading or watching at the moment. And Bulkhead? Just stop—this is a great show."

"Ha!" Miko pointed at Bulkhead triumphantly. "Told you!"

Bulkhead grumbled. "That's his opinion, not a fact."

"And that _opinion_ is supported by _me_. You're now outnumbered, Bulky!"

Miko's guardian gave his fellow Wreckers a look. "Back up?"

"You're on your own, Bulkhead," Ironhide said. "I happen to like it. It's entertaining, for a human show. Good characters. That bodyguard, Diggle, practical man, I like him."

"I don't; he's a bodyguard who can't keep track of the person he was hired to protect," Bulkhead said before looking at Broadside.

The massive mech crossed his servos, numerous weapons across his frame clanking as his movement made them shift. "I might have—just _might have_—supported you a few moments ago, but not now. Now, you'll have no pity from me, Diggle-hater. Enjoy the femme's anger."

"I know I will," Springer added, giving Bulkhead a smug smile and making a show of leaning back in his chair.

Quietly chuckling again at the conversation Miko and the Wreckers were having, I decided I had been given enough laughs for the moment and walked out of the rec room as Miko started to lay out every good thing about Arrow—in a very loud way, I had to admit; the girl had a fast tongue and a large set of lungs. Not a good combination.

Not long after I left the rec room, Prowl opened a comm-link with me. _"Shadowstreaker, what is your location?"_

"_I just left the rec room, heading in the general direction of the washracks. Why?"_

"_Turn around and move toward the reactor room. I have reviewed Optimus' proposal to the upgrade to the main reactors, and have found that Storage Hanger Kilo-9 current location would prevent such a project from succeeding. As a result, I have scheduled for Kilo-9 to be decommissioned and relocated seventy meters west. For now, the Paraion weapons stored in Kilo-9 must be moved to Storage Hanger Golf-5."_

"_And you want me to move them there."_

"_Yes. I already have tasks in line for the Wreckers when they leave the rec room, and all other Autobots are either on scouting missions or in direct conflict with Decepticons."_

"_You mean everyone besides Grimlock,"_ I pointed out, knowing I was right. The Dinobot leader had still not been on a combat mission since he arrived with the other Dinobots, despite the fact his auto-repair systems had healed his injuries—an impressive feat, given how extensive his wounds had been. He didn't talk to me on the very rare times I even _saw_ him, but I was able to get a vague statement from Swoop when I had asked the flier why Grimlock had yet to go on a mission. He had said, "He Grimlock no go on mission without Kronis." I had no idea what that meant.

"_Yes, and he is too proud to conduct a repetitive physical task unless it involves battle."_

"_Which leaves me."_

"_Yes."_

I turned around, now moving to the reactor room. _"I'm heading to the storage hanger now."_

"_Good. Prowl out." _The SIC cut the link from his end.

I walked down the hallway, moving further away from the ops center than I usually did, then at last reached the end of the portion of the hallway I was in. In front of me, about a hundred feet away, was the door to the reactor room. The door to Kilo-9 was directly to my right.

Unlocking the door to Kilo-9 by pressing the door control, I stepped into the storage hanger.

Crates filled with Paraion weapons were stacked three high on both sides of the room, with the weapons that couldn't fit in crates were racks that lined the walls above the crates. The largest weapons—all of which were too large to fit in crates in the first place—were sitting their own, specially made racks in the back of the hanger.

I didn't waste any time in getting to work. I started with the crates on the left side of the room, carrying three at a time as I left Kilo-9, walked through the hallway, and placed the crates in Golf-5 before returning to Kilo-9. When there were no more crates on the left side of Kilo-9, I started transferring the crates on the right side of the room until they were all in the other storage hanger.

After that, all I had left to take over to Golf-5 were the weapons hanging on the racks on Kilo-9's walls.

I stood in the middle of the storage hanger, optics roaming the room, considering which side weapons racks to clear first.

Both sides of the room had over a hundred weapons hanging on the walls, and both sides were ordered in the same way—there was no pattern to their placement beyond keeping weapons of the same model together. It appeared that there were more assault rifles on the right side of the room than on the left.

My gaze shifted to the back wall, and the larger weapons that sat on the racks. They were fewer in number than the ones on either of the other walls, but they were also all very large and bulky; I wouldn't be able to carry more than two of them at a time, just because of how awkward it was to carry a large object. And after a quick calculation, I estimated that clearing out the heavy weapons would take almost as long as the combined time I would spend transferring the weapons from the right and left walls. That was a bit depressing.

May as well get the largest obstacles out of the way.

I walked up to the back wall and lifted a Vortex Rotary Cannon from a rack. For a heavy weapon, it was very streamlined and light, although its large, fixed size made it difficult to store. Its main body was grey and shaped like a cylinder, and had a servo grip and trigger floating at the back—the floating grip acted as if it was attached to the weapon, even though you could wave a servo through empty space between the actual weapon and the grip and feel nothing impeding your movement. It had four identical barrels that rotated as the weapon fired. Each barrel fired five times a second, which gave the Vortex a rate of fire of eighteen-hundred rounds per klick. It was a mean weapon.

"And Chromia picked one out," I said to myself, a bit amused at the thought of Chromia—the smallest femme on base—wielding a weapon that was nearly as long as my Ion Displacer.

I looked back at the weapons on the wall, and used my other servo to grab a deactivated Titan Sniper Rifle. Like the Vortex, it was light, at least for me, and was almost seamless in its construction. At the moment, it was about fifteen feet long, but it doubled in length when it was activated; its duel-pronged 'Barrel'—which was more like a rail that appeared to guide the Hard-Light round while allowing the weapon to vent heat—would make up more than half the weapon's length when it was powered. Besides the high-powered, round-tracking scope that formed together and floated above the Titan's main body when it was active, it had only one moving part—its rotating ammunition chamber.

Due to the massive amount of energy used for each shot, power crystals could only power three shots before being emptied. To compensate this, the Titan's ammo chamber had five slots for power crystals. After a power crystal was emptied, its chamber rotated to allow a new power crystal to be used without having to reload. It was similar to how the Hydra Cannon reloaded itself.

I rested the Titan against my shoulder-joint, and walked out of the storage hanger to take the large weapons to Golf-5. After I had reached the other hanger, I placed the heavy weapons on top of one of the crates I had moved earlier, and started walking back to Kilo-9.

Just after I walked by the rec room on my way to Kilo-9, I started to feel… Off. Not in an emotional or physical sense, but the air just felt _wrong_. Heavy. Oppressing. Notably colder. I could _feel _ that something else was nearby.

And it _wasn't_ friendly.

The lights above me suddenly started to flicker; and after I turned to look back where I just came from, I saw that the lights all the way down the hallway were also flickering, as if they were all close to going out.

Or something was interfering with their power source.

I turned back in the direction of Kilo-9 and quickly walked through the last section of hallway before the turn leading to Kilo-9 and the reactor room, then I rounded the corner.

The door to the reactor room was wide open, the encrypted door control evidently useless. The blue light from the energon reactor inside was flickering in synchronization with the lights.

Slag.

My Path Blaster and one of my swords were deployed in an instant, and I was already halfway to the reactor room door. There was no time to comm-link anyone and get them here; if the reactor was compromised, there was nothing to keep the base up and running, nothing to power the cloaking field. I had to go in now, before whoever—or _whatever_—was in the reactor room took out the power entirely.

The lights in the reactor room were in a worse state than the ones in the hallway—many of them were even completely burned out. Most of the light inside the room came from the flickering reactor. It casted shadows behind stone columns that supported an overhang of that ran around two thirds of the room, the only sign the area had once been a naturally occurring cavern in the mountain.

I made my way through the room cautiously, aware that the constant humming from the reactor was going to impede my hearing. Visibility wouldn't be a problem, since the light from the flickering reactor was still enough to brighten the entire room, but I could be ambushed easily if I didn't make sure the room was clear before checking in on the reactor itself.

The main room appeared to be clear, so I started making my way to the column nearest to the door, keeping my sword pointed out to my left, my Path Blaster aimed ahead.

When I reached the column, I quickly checked behind me to make sure it was clear.

Nothing.

With my backplates covered, I jumped around the corner and pointed my Path Blaster out in front of me, ready to fire at anyone behind the column.

Nothing there, either.

I quickly double-checked the area, then turned to return to the main room.

I found a shadow with black steam standing on front of me, crimson optics not two inches from my own.

That was when the light went out entirely, the reactor following suit a moment later.

Well, _frag_.

An unbelievably cold servo grabbed my neck. It felt like my spine froze as soon as it touched me.

This mech again.

I was _thrown_ through the air half a micro-klick later, before I could try to fire my Path Blaster or stab the air with my sword. My path through the air was pitch dark. When I landed, it was chestplates and faceplate first, and it came as a surprise since my optics had no time to adjust to the darkness. My helm started spinning as soon as I landed, a common sign of being temporarily disoriented.

I shook my helm and jumped to my pedes. I aimed my Path Blaster out and waited for my optics to adjust to the darkness. After a moment, they adjusted, and the darkness turned to light.

The energon reactor sat in front of me.

Then the reactor pulsed, and all I could see was a bright, white light, even after I turned the sensitivity of my optics to their normal setting.

A cold fist hit me in the side of the helm so hard, I felt the first layer of my armor crack and fall from my helm.

I hit the floor like I had been pushed down, just from the impact of the punch. An extreme processor ache was forming even as I laid on the floor. My vision slowly returned after being blinded, gradually changing from a bright light to a dim, irregular flickering. I couldn't tell if the flickering was from the reactor or my own vision. Probably both.

I stood up as quickly as I could, but between my processor and the flickering of the reactor and my own vision, it took longer to find my pedes than before. When I had, I held my Path Blaster at the ready and looked around for my attacker.

I was still standing in the same place as before, right next to the reactor. It was pulsing every now and then, but it gave off very little light—I couldn't see when it didn't pulse, and my visibility was limited to a hundred feet when it did. It wasn't enough to operate effectively inside a room this large, but it was enough to make it impossible for me to adjust my optics to the dark. Or _optic_; my vision from my right optic—the side of my helm that had been punched—was flickering more than the reactor.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw a shape so dark it stuck out in the black. But by the time I had turned my helm, the shape had disappeared.

He was toying with me.

I hated that.

"_**Oh, I **_**know**_** you hate it. And that's what makes it**_** fun."**

A pede that felt like ice kicked me squarely in the backplates, right between my wings. But, the kick had lacked the mech's full power. So when I landed on my chestplates, I was able to roll onto my pedes in a crouch. I whipped myself around and was offered my first full view of my attacker as he stood in front of the reactor.

He looked almost exactly like me. He had my height, my build, my wings, my wheels, my posture. His armor was even darker than mine was, and it reflected no light from the pulsing reactor. Steam blacker than a moonless night rose from his frame and disappeared after rising about a foot into the air. His optics were crimson and held a twisted glee to them, as if he was _living_ for this moment. He was so dark and absorbed so much light, I couldn't even tell if he had a mouth, even though he was looking right at me.

I wasted no time in sending four shots from my Path Blaster straight toward his chestplates.

He made no move to dodge the shots or take cover from any other shots I could send his way. He just stood there.

All four shots found their marks, impacting him with what _should_ have been enough kinetic energy to make a mech larger than either one of us take two steps back. But he just kept standing there, unfazed, unharmed, unmoved. A fizzling sound reached my audio receptors.

Did my shots just… Evaporate?

The mech's chilling, distorted laughter echoed throughout the room, his optics never leaving mine. _**"Yes…"**_ The reactor went dark for nano-klick. When it pulsed again with light, the mech was standing right in front of me, as if he'd been there the entire time. _**"They did."**_

The knee-joint slammed into my faceplate before I could react, and it sent me onto my backplates and had me seeing stars. When I cleared my helm, the mech was standing over me, pinning my Path Blaster under a pede that was no cold that it numbed my entire servo and left me thinking my Path Blaster's power had been cut.

"_**That's what happens when fire meets the cold—there's a clash of... Opposites. And fire always fades, while the cold endures. Do you know why that is?"**_

My only response was to stab my sword upward, but the mech's servo flashed like lightning, and caught it between his index and thumb digits, as if it was a second thought.

"_**It is because fire is limited, finite. It is predictable, expends its energy as quickly as possible and moves on; it needs fuel in order to survive, or it dies. Now cold… Cold keeps going. It seeps down inside you, no matter who or **_**what**_** you are. It surrounds us all, even within the influence of stars and the largest of fires. No matter what, it always creeps in. **_**That**_** is why fire always fades, and the cold endures."**_

Starting from the mech's digits, crystals of ice started to form down the length of my sword. I widened my optics at the sight, every instinct in my CPU and frame yelling at me to not let the ice touch the rest of my servo.

"_**Now, when the cold touches metal, bad things start to happen…"**_

I tried pulling my servo back from his grip, but he held onto my sword like I wasn't even trying to get it away from him.

"_**The metal bends and twists, warping from the strain of fighting the cold…"**_

The crystals grew along my sword, forming tiny cracks in the super-dense alloy. Despite my best efforts to get away, the crystals continued growing down my sword and came into contact with my servo. That servo went numb instantly, and the crystals started growing up toward my shoulder-joint.

"_**The metal starts cracking, losing its strength. It does its best to retain its form, but eventually it reaches a critical point that it can't come back from... Do you know what happens after that?"**_

I just kept trying to pull away from his grip.

"_**The metal BREAKS!"**_

He wrapped his servo around my sword, heedless of its sharp edges, and pulled to the side. There was a sound like shattering glass, and both my sword and my servo halfway to my elbow-joint came breaking off. No energon came from the broken part of my servo, and I felt no pain.

I let out a soundless scream, gaping at the wound I couldn't feel. A small part of my processor was calmly telling me that this wasn't real, that the last time the mech attacked me, nothing had actually happened.

That little voice was drowned out and ignored as I stared at my injury in mute horror. My servo was gone. My servo was gone. My servo was gone. My _servo_ was _gone._

The mech above me tossed my frozen sword and snapped servo off to the side; they shattered when they hit the floor. _**"Fire fades. Metal breaks. The cold endures. **_**You**_** are **_**made**_** of metal, and that little spark of yours can count as fire. **_**I**_** am the Cold. **_**You **_**will break and fade, **__**and **_**I**_** will be the one who breaks you. Like a little toy."**_

"Why? Why _me?_"

He stomped on my chestplates, cracking my armor and bonding his pede to my chestplates by forming crystals of ice under his heel. It felt like my spark had been frozen. _**"Because you need to learn. You need to see that there are terrible things out in the Cosmos, even on this ball of dirt you call a planet—things far worse than me."**_

His pede raised up and kicked out sideways, and I was sent sliding across the floor by his casual movement, stopping about a hundred feet away.

"_**Things like you, Xel'Tor."**_

A faint breath of cold wind passed over my frame, chilling any part of me that hadn't already been frozen by the mech.

I was so distracted by my snapped off servo and injuries, I barely felt the wind touch me. But that didn't stop the small voice of reason from again trying to make me think logically—that my servo wasn't gone, that I had to prepare myself for an attack unlike any I faced before.

I didn't pay attention to it, and kept staring at the stump of my servo.

I should have listened to the little voice in the back of my CPU.

The biting wind carried an equally cool voice, carrying from out in the dark, _"... Why? Why offline me?"_

I turned my helm toward the voice, but saw nothing until the reactor pulsed, illuminating the room. The dull silver form of the Hammer's navigator was standing no more than twenty feet from me. His optics were dim and carried an accusing look in them. There were two bullet holes in his chestplates that were faintly glowing orange.

The small voice in my head told me not to respond, that what I was seeing was a hallucination, but I didn't listen. "Because you were a Paraion, and I was a rampaging prisoner. You would have shot at me sooner or later, so I shot first."

"_I was a _navigator._ I piloted ships, made sure it was safe for my crewmates and I to make a jump. That's all I ever wanted to do. I was never in combat. I wasn't trained for it, didn't like to shoot. I was no threat to you; I never would have been. But you still gunned me down without hesitating, without any thought of how you were ending my life. Why? What did I do to you?"_

"I was your prisoner."

"_I was the navigator—I never came in contact with you. You were _Extremis'_ prisoner, not mine. Does me being a follower of Extremis excuse offlining me, when I was too scared of you to even hide?"_

I was silent.

"_And what about me?"_ A new voice asked, belonging to a femme.

I turned my helm again. An orange and blue femme was standing on the opposite side of me, optics accusing just like the navigator's were. An Autobot insignia was displayed proudly on her chestplates, but had been charred black by what could only have been a fire of great heat. There was no other damage to her short, slender frame.

"What about you?" I asked.

"_Hmph. You need to ask? Is the fact I'm an Autobot not enough reason for you to care? You weren't the only 'Bot on that ship, you know. I had been there for half a vorn by the time you arrived, been through just as much as you had. No, I went through _more_ than you. Know why? Unlike you, I had a _family_ counting me to get out and come back to them. I could _feel_ how much they missed me through my mate. My _everything._ Want to know what his name was?"_

"I… I don—"

"_His name was Highshift. He was the gentlest, sweetest, most selfless mech I ever knew. We had sparklings together—sweet, innocent sparlings. Want to know their names?"_

"I—"

"_Our firstborn—Kiorra, who we named her after our closest friend at the time of her birth, an organic we met on the planet my battalion had been protecting for the last fifty vorns protecting. Our second eldest—Battlemade, who had been born while Highshift was out fighting Decepticons. Our middle sparkling—Solarseer, who we could never get her to stop studying the stars at the night-cycle, even when she fell into recharge looking up at them. Our second youngest—Airwave, who loved music even before he opened his optics. And our youngest—Seaflight, who always, always, _always_ wanted us to take him to see the oceans. My mate was a _dozen_ times the mech you are. But our sparklings—_my_ little miracles? They had worth beyond comparison. And you took me from them."_

"No, I—"

"_You took _both_ my mate and I from our family! My sparklings are alone now, scared and confused and lost, and you didn't even care! What kind of mech doesn't care about the lives he changes, about those he ruins?!"_

"But… But I _do_ care," I said quietly, untrusting of my own voice after her tirade. "Not a breem goes by when I don't think about what happened to Autobots like you."

"_But you don't care _enough!_"_ The femme roared. _"You _never_ will! You're _incapable _of caring about anyone except yourself!"_

"I love Arcee, though."

"_If you loved her, you would have made sure she stayed away from you," _a new voice said, belonging to another mech who stepped into my field of vision. He was dark in color, and had a Decepticon symbol on his shoulder-joints. _"That's what I did when pair of Decepticon enforcers knocked on my front door, slapped a draft notice in my serov, and told me to come with them. She said she loved me and wanted to go with me, and asked if she could volunteer. But I knew what would happen to her if she went into a Decepticon camp, untrained and unarmed. I couldn't let that happen to her. So I lied, told her I never loved her and never would—that I had been seeing other femmes since we had started courting. I even yelled and slapped her when she said I was lying. She said she hated me and left, and the enforcers let her go. I hated myself for hurting her so much, but she was safe; that was enough for me. Arcee's far from safe being near you, that much is clear—you're worse than half the scum I was forced to work with. So what's your excuse, huh? _Loving_ Arcee too much to keep your distance? Give me a break."_

I couldn't even hear the voice of reason yelling at me now to just ignore the mech. "Arcee loves me, too…"

"_Oh, please. She thinks she loves you. She's been through so much pain in her life that she's never encountered someone that she clicked with quickly. Now she's misinterpreting your friendship as love, and you—you selfish afthole—are just going along with it. Makes me sick."_

"But… Imprinting."

"_Imprinting is lie. There are no seconds halfs to our sparks, only pain in the end."_

But… But…

"_Imprinting is a lie."_

… That made sense…

Countless other voices and bots soon appeared, raining down scorn and hatred down on me in a constant stream of words and curses.

"_You're incapable of caring about anyone but yourself!"_

I did have that problem.

"_You're worth less than dirt!"_

I was. I really was…

"_You enjoyed_ _offlining everyone in front of you!_

… Had I?

"_We were following orders just like you would have, and you slaughtered us for it!"_

… Why had I done that?

"_You murdered us! You_ _murdered_ all _of us! You're a sparkless monster!"_

I was a monster…

"_You took my family from me! You took _everything_ from me!"_

I…

It was all too much for my CPU to handle. I tried focusing on facts, random numbers, anything to keep my CPU occupied.

The shouts kept coming, increasing in volume with each one.

"_Worthless!"_

The density of Iridium is twenty-two point five six grams per cubic centimeter.

"_Monster!"_

The average size of a neutron star is twenty-eight kilometers in diameter.

"_Merciless liar!"_

Cybertron's energon production once reached fifteen-quadrillion storage containers per jour.

"_Emotionless beast!"_

The… deepest ocean on Cybertron... Is…

"_Traitor!"_

The… I...

"_MURDERER!"_

… Murderer.

Above the voices, I could hear deep, distorted, and sickly twisted laughter echoing around the room.

"Shadowstreaker."

My optics snapped open. I was standing in the middle of the reactor room, facing the wall away from the door. My helm was pounding faintly, like I was recovering from a bad processor ache I hadn't noticed I was having. My chestplates and servo were both unusually warm, as if the air had suddenly risen drastically in temperature. The reactor itself hummed quietly, lighting up the room.

How did I get in here?

I turned around and saw Prowl standing in the doorway, one of his Rifles deployed from his servo and aimed at the floor. "Yeah? What are you doing here, Prowl?"

Prowl made no move to return his servo to normal. "A security notification appeared on the computer. It said the reactor room door had been opened. I am here investigating the report. How did you get inside this room?"

I looked around and shrugged, unconsciously flexing the digits of my left servo—it felt odd and almost foreign, like I stopped feeling it for a klick. "I don't know. I must have spaced out while I was clearing out Kilo-9, wandered in here by mistake."

"And you _wandered_ into one of the most secure areas of the base? I find that conclusion illogical."

"I know, but repetitive manual labor requires remarkably little thought in order to complete—it's possible."

"The door panel is heavily encrypted, and only Optimus and I have a code to unlock it."

I shrugged again, cooling fans humming quietly as they worked to cool a small part of my chestplates above my spark; it felt like they had just been freezing cold and hadn't adapted to warm temperatures. I found that a bit strange. "Maybe the door panel has a glitch or short circuit, then. How else could I have gotten in here?"

Prowl continued staring at me for a micro-klick, then glanced to his side to look at the door panel. "It does not appear to be damaged."

"Then it would have to be a glitch." I walked out of the reactor room and stood next to Prowl. "Try closing the door."

The stoic mech glanced at me, the pressed the button to close the door. It slid shut quickly and smoothly, but the light signaling that the door had locked remained green instead of turning red. The door reopened a moment later, as if it had never closed.

"See? A glitch. It must have been open when I came near it, allowed me to wander inside when I was spacing out," I said casually, certain that was how I ended up in the reactor room. Although, that _did_ leave the question of how I ended up spacing out without realizing it. One thing at a time, I guess.

Prowl's optics scanned the open door in front of us, examining it closely as he finally returned his servo to normal. "It appears so."

With the mystery of how I was able to enter the reactor room solved, I looked back toward Kilo-9. "Well, I should get back to work. Then if you don't mind me doing so, I'm going to relax in my quarters for a while—I have a processor ache." I lightly rubbed the side of my helm, where my processor ache was focused. It was a strange place for me to get a processor ache, but evidently not impossible since it was pounding away; however, I didn't have it a few klicks ago. Wierd.

The SIC kept examining the doorway. "That would be wise. I will be returning to the ops center momentarily; first I will need to make sure the door is not suffering from other malfunctions. Once you have finished unloading Kilo-9, take the rest of the cycle off, Shadowstreaker—processor aches can cause confusion, and confusion can be dangerous when conducting manual labor."

"Understood, Prowl. I'll get back to it." I turned and started walking to Kilo-9, shaking my helm as it kept pounding painfully. Damn processor ache.

I didn't sense or have any idea that Prowl turned around as soon as I had, and was watching me walk away with suspicious optics.

* * *

><p>Prowl watched Shadowstreaker walk away, processor analyzing their conversation.<p>

Shadowstreaker's apparent lack of concern for why he could not remember how he entered the reactor room was highly unusual for him—Prowl thought the mech had some logic in his CPU.

Cybertronians did not 'Space out,' not on the level the Triple-Changer claimed he must have done. A processor recorded everything, deleted nothing. Even if he had fallen into repetitive motions, he would have memory files detailing every moment he spent working on his tasks. Shadowstreaker knew how Cybertronian CPUs worked, had previous experience when he was a human with a photographic memory, and still dismissed his gap in his memory like it was a commonplace event.

Normally, Prowl would have pressed the Triple-Changer on the topic, but he sensed there was more going on than he knew—more that Prowl needed to find out before he confronted Shadowstreaker on the subject.

And Prowl's logic-centered CPU was telling him there was something very wrong about the entire situation.

The SIC turned and looked back at the door panel. Its software could not be corrupted or have an error in its coding—Ratchet and Moonracer were the ones who programmed it, and they did not make mistakes with code. Even on the off chance there was an error, the bonded medics installed failsafes that would have appeared in the security alert sent to the workstation. There was no logical reason why it should not work correctly.

With that thought on his processor, he again pressed the button to close the door. It slid shut, and the light on the panel turned red. The door remained closed even after several micro-klicks.

Prowl blinked, CPU whirling audibly as it tried to find logic in what just happened—to find logic in the fact the door only malfunctioned when Shadowstreaker was in its immediate proximity. But no matter how hard he thought, what information stored in his CPU he searched, he could find no logical explanation for what he just witnessed. Logic could not explain it.

This… Complicated matters. It complicated matters _extensively._

* * *

><p><strong>August 10, 2013 6:59 P.M<strong>

**Shílì Tower, Central, Hong Kong**

Shílì Tower lived up to its name—meaning strength, in Simplified Chinese. Towering over all other buildings in the city, the Tower sat on a hundred acre plot of land just south of Victoria Harbor. It was made up of four cylinder-shaped towers that were attached—from the bottom floor to the roof— to a much larger fifth tower. Each of the four smaller towers stood at a staggering sixteen-hundred and twelve feet in height, and had more than four-million square feet of floor space spread out over one-hundred and two floors. Four helicopter landing pads were on top of each smaller tower.

The larger tower—called Central by the people who worked in the complex—made the other towers look small in comparison. It was more than a third taller than the buildings attached to it, and would have had more floor space than all the other towers combined even if it had been the same height as them. On the one-hundred and third floor, sections of Central opened up in massive, pillar-like apertures—over one-hundred and fifty feet high—that were connected to the roofs of the four smaller structures. These apertures created a giant observation deck that circled the outside of Central, expanding into larger decks when at a connection to a smaller tower—one on each corner of Central. Benches, tower viewers, an outdoor movie theater, two food courts, and even a small shopping center were located on the observation decks.

Central continued climbing into the sky for another five-hundred feet, then came to the bottom of a private, multi-floor penthouse that had Central's three-hundred foot antenna looming over it. The penthouse had its own observatory, helicopter pad, swimming pool heated to eighty-six degrees fahrenheit year-round, garden, and many other luxuries that normally would be seen in a mansion on ground level. It had a three-hundred and sixty degree view of Hong Kong far below.

Inside the penthouse, in an extravagantly-furnished living room with Macassar Ebony floors, a man in a dark suit with a blood red tie stood in front of a window, staring out at the city far below. The man's name was Michael Hsu, and he owned Shílì Tower.

Hsu was taller than most Chinese men at six feet two inches in height, and was still in very good physical shape despite being in his mid-fifties. He had black hair, dark eyes, wide cheekbones, small nose, and flatter face than people of European descent. If someone were to look past his first name, they would have no idea Hsu was only half Chinese. He had been born in Los Angeles, California, to an American mother and Chinese father—his mother had been the one to name him. He spoke perfect English and Chinese.

From an early age, Hsu showed a talent for business, technology, and economics. When he was nine, he made his first thousand dollars from taking unwanted scrap metal from around his neighborhood and selling it to scrap yards and recycling plants. He used that money to start his own little business at his Elementary school by buying things young children lusted after—candy, soda, small toys—and selling them at his school for slightly more money than he purchased them for, and other children paid the extra money so they wouldn't have to walk all the way to the store. By the time he was sixteen, he had used similar money-making tactics to turn that first thousand dollars into five-thousand dollars.

That year, he started to buy and trade Penny Stocks through an account he registered in his father's name.

Hsu invested smartly and often, and turned his five-thousand investments into over a quarter of a million dollars in assets within another year. On the day of his eighteenth birthday, he sold all of the stock belonging to the account he originally used to invest, left home, and used the money to start his first company: Beta Electronics, a company he founded to create the first computer systems and software made exclusively for stock trading companies.

Within months of installing its first systems—and the world seeing how effective computers were at giving traders accurate data, and in turn providing handsome profits—more than thirty major trading companies were in demand for Beta Electronics' services. Hsu was only too happy to oblige.

Little did the stock traders know, the software in the computers provided by Beta Electronics contained what was perhaps the world's first digital backdoor. By using the power cord of his own computers, Hsu could hack into the computers he installed and view the sensitive financial information stored within. From his own personal computer, Hsu was able to see every financial secret kept by his customers, know what the prices of stocks would be hours ahead of most traders.

He was very proud of his first money-grabbing plot. Hsu not only had to make it work without the aid of the internet, but it was the defining moment in his life—the moment he first tasted true success. His previous businesses had been to get by and make money for later in life, but Beta Electronics was the first endeavor he pursued purely to gain something more than money: power.

He quickly found he loved power, craved it, and would do anything to gather more and more.

The employees of Beta Electronics never knew the true purpose of the software he told them to code. Only he and four others knew the truth.

They met unfortunate accidents within a year of the company's founding—no one could know about the backdoor except Hsu.

Using his profits from Beta Electronics, the financial information he had at his fingertips—which only grew as the years passed on and Beta Electronics continued to grow—and his own intelligent investments, Hsu built, destroyed, and bought out dozens of companies before he even turned twenty-five. He eventually brought every company he owed—including Beta Electronics—under one name: Freedom International, the world's first megacorporation—he chose the name 'Freedom' to appeal to a greater number of potential customers.

With each passing decade, Freedom International grew, and so did Hsu's personal fortune. It was the largest or one of the largest companies in a number of industries: manufacturing; retail; internet, television, and phone providers; computer software and hardware; pharmaceuticals; banking; Coal, Oil, and Natural Gas production; construction; hydropower; Gold, Silver, Uranium, Platinum, Iron, Titanium, Copper, and Lithium mining; and even had a hand in the film, music, and video game industries. Between all of the companies under its umbrella, Freedom International employed six point one million people across the world, more than the next six largest companies combined.

For years, Hsu had no rivals, no real competition—he just saw his wealth and power grow. But he was always on the watch for ways to keep growing, to keep increasing the size of his bank accounts and his influence with nearly every major nation and scores of politicians. Sometimes he had to dig in order to find things that furthered his unending quest for wealth, like when he had to plant a group of inside men into the Roxxon Corporation in order to move in and buy its assets while it dealt with millions of people crying for justice. That had been a long operation.

But at other times, opportunities were given to him.

That was why he was even in Hong Kong today, instead of enjoying a week of vacation in Monaco—there was a business meeting he couldn't miss, in the words of one of his Board members, who oversaw operations in Eastern Europe and West Asia.

Hsu hoped he hadn't wasted his time by flying out to Hong Kong, as Tony—one of his Board members—asked him to do.

The faint thrum of a helicopter's rotors reached Hsu's ears, and he turned his head in the direction of the helipad. It seemed his meeting was about to start.

"Escort my guest in," Hsu ordered two of the eight armed bodyguards in the room, a personal entourage a man like himself needed to keep around to deter threats and carry out his own.

The bodyguards wordlessly walked out of the room. They returned a minute later, standing on both sides of another man—Hsu's guest.

The newcomer was taller than either of the bodyguards accompanying him, but was still two inches shorter than Hsu. He wore a buttoned up, navy blue suit that looked so new it was as if he had never put it on. His skin was light and clean, but there were a few faint scars on his hands and face. His hair was blonde, his face was clean-shaven, and his chocolate brown eyes that contained a look akin to warmth. He carried himself with cool confidence, as if the bodyguards around him weren't there at all.

Hsu turned from the window to study his guest, looked him from head to toe, then said in English, "You are the man Tony was telling me about."

"Unless we're thinking about a different Tony, then I must be." The way the man worded his statement made it sound like a joke, but neither his eyes nor mouth smiled.

Hsu didn't smile, either. "I am not known for my humor, Mr…?"

"Booth. Ned Booth."

"Booth. Simple name," Hsu said, searching his mind for a time he may have heard the man's name associated with a particular industry—he didn't recall hearing it before now. He walked away from the window and sat down on a couch close to where Booth and Hsu's two bodyguards entered the room. A glass coffee table and two chairs in front of the couch. "Why don't you sit down, Mr. Booth; I don't like to waste time when I have business to attend to."

Booth walked forward and stood between both chairs, making no move to sit in either. He looked down at Hsu from over the table, face unreadable. "I prefer conducting my first order of business while I'm on my feet."

Hsu arched one eyebrow half an inch. "Why?"

"Because when you sit down with someone, you are placing yourself at a disadvantage. The person standing has the advantage of height. People, no matter who they are, have a natural instinct of being intimidated when someone stands over them. Sitting also is a tactical misstep. If I were to pull a weapon, you would have no time to react, nowhere to go. All I would need is one shot."

Hsu frowned, eyes narrowing at the perceived threat in Booth's statement. Booth was not talking like a man with business in mind, not the kind of business Tony had told Hsu about. It seemed the meeting was going to end short, if there had ever been the possibility of one in the first place. "Neither would you. My guards are armed, and they would shoot you before you would be able to pull a weapon."

Booth's mouth twitched in the faintest smile Hsu had ever seen. "Would they?"

One of the bodyguards who had left the room to escort in Booth suddenly drew his FN Five-seven pistol and shot the guard next to him in the head, the high-velocity .224 caliber round creating a gunshot far louder than most people would expect from a weapon the FN's size.

The rest of Hsu's bodyguards went to draw their own weapons, but one of them joined the first in aiming his pistol at the others. He shot the guard nearest to him, downing him with a shot to the neck while the first guard killed his second man.

Hsu's remaining three guards hesitated for a split second, shocked that there were _two_ traitors among them instead of one—their training didn't cover threats from within their unit.

The split second was all the two traitors needed. The first guard fired one more shot, and the second guard fired two. Three more bodies hit the floor.

There was a pause, a deafening silence in the air after half a dozen shots had been fired in such a short time. Then the two traitors lowered their weapons, looked at Booth, and nodded.

Booth unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down in one of the chairs. "Now, I think I'll sit."

Hsu sat in shock, ears ringing from the gunshots. He had employed the same bodyguards for the last seven years, ran multiple background checks on all of them, saw them everyday, and made sure they each made six figures a year. He knew them better than he knew his children or ex-wives—not that he really knew those women to begin with. And two of them had turned on him, didn't offer a moment's hesitation in shooting the guards still loyal to Hsu. The billionaire didn't know how to process the situation.

A sharp whistle brought Hsu out of his shellshock, and he looked at the blank face of Booth sitting across from him. "I need you to focus, Mr. Hsu—we have business to get to."

"How?" It was the only thing Hsu could get his mouth to say at the moment. His thoughts were too jumbled and confused by the betrayal of his bodyguards and the question of why Tony insisted on Hsu coming out to Hong Kong to conduct a business meeting—Hsu knew too many of the man's dark secrets for Tony to try pulling a powerplay.

"How what? My answer's going to depend on what you're asking about."

"Tony."

"Ah. That." Booth reached into his suit jacket, pulled out a small photograph, and showed it to Hsu.

The image showed a short, middle-aged woman of Italian ethnicity—who still retained much of the stunning beauty she must have had in her youth—bound and gagged along with three children who appeared to be in their early to late teens. They were all sitting against a white wall, looking at the camera.

Tony's family, Hsu realized—his pride and joy. Booth had kidnapped them. An effective tactic of manipulation, Hsu knew. Take a man's beloved family, and he'll do whatever you say to make sure they're safe. But kill them after you get what you want, you better be prepared to contain the damage the lone man will deal out.

Hsu still regretted never being quite ready enough to face the man's wrath.

"You took his family," said Hsu.

"I've found people are likely to do what you ask them to when you have guns pointed at their family's heads," said Booth, returning the photo to his suit jacket. "Especially when all you want them to do is convince their boss to go to a surprise business meeting in your penthouse in Hong Kong."

Hsu made a mental note to make sure Tony had an unfortunate accident, if Hsu got out of this penthouse alive. "And my men?"

"Money can _very_ convincing."

"How much?"

"One-million apiece."

The billionaire huffed, anger building at how easily his bodyguards had been bought—he offered each of them a fifty-thousand US dollar bonus for each off the books task he told them to do. And he told them to do them often. "What do you want?"

"Two things. Let's start with the most straightforward one." Booth reached into the other side of his suit jacket and pulled out a small piece of paper. He set it down in front of Hsu. There were three different sets of numbers on the paper. "Those are account numbers. You're going to transfer one-million US dollars into the first two accounts. Then you're going to transfer ten-million dollars into the third account."

Twelve-million total. Not as much as Hsu would have expected, considering his wealth. "And your second demand?"

"We'll get to that. Transfer the funds."

* * *

><p>Hsu did as he was told, albeit grudgingly; he may have enough money to spend ten-million a day for the next twenty years and still be a billionaire, but he <em>despised<em> parting with it; if he lived, he was going to have a trace run on the account numbers, along with making sure Tony paid dearly.

After he finished the long process—mainly repeating information he told to other employees of his bank—that went along with transferring large sums of money from one bank account to another, Hsu hung up his phone and glared across the table at Booth. "It's done. You have your money." He noticed that his former bodyguards smiled slightly at the news, excitement written on their faces

Booth's face remained unreadable. "Good."

Hsu grinded his teeth at the disinterested tone from Booth. First he took him hostage, and now he's not even interested when one of his demands was met. What kind of extortionist was Booth. "Did you not hear me? I gave you your damned money. _My_ damned money."

"You did, but it's still only half of what I need."

"Then get on with your second demand."

For the first time, Booth leaned forward in his chair, his eyes growing intense. "I want to know where your son is."

Hsu openly showed his confusion, something he didn't commonly do. "Why? What do you want with Zhang?"

"Not Zhang, Mr. Hsu. I want to know where your firstborn is."

Instantly, Hsu's face went blank, mind freezing in horror. Not from fear of harm to his eldest—from fear _of _his eldest. He shook his head fiercely. "He is no son of mine; he hasn't been for ten years."

"Yes, you disowned him. Very sad, that. Family should stick together."

"He was never family. He was a monster from the day he learned how to talk."

"A monster you _still_ helped go into hiding from the authorities from a number of countries. How kind of you."

"I regret that decision everyday—I should have killed him back then."

"But you didn't. And now I need to find him."

"Why?" Hsu asked, voice carrying an incredulous tone. "What could you possibly need with that rabid dog?"

"That's my business, not yours." Booth adjusted in his chair, leaning back slightly. "Now, where is he?"

"I don't know."

"But you have a basic area, or a name to go on. You wouldn't have sent him off without giving yourself an idea of what to look for, if you wanted to search for him."

Hsu grinded his teeth, knowing he could not dissuade Booth from tracking down Hsu's only son born from a non-Chinese woman. "The passport I gave him upon his departure was listed as one 'Andrew Carmine.' I know from tracking the name that he still goes by it."

"That all?"

"I gave him the identity, not the destination. If you really want to find him, track him down yourself. But if you find him, just save yourself the trouble and shoot him in the chest."

Booth's eyes widened an eighth of an inch. It was the most genuine emotion Hsu had seen from Booth since he arrived. "Are you truly that scared of your son?"

"If you knew what I discovered what he did to his own mother when I returned home on the night he left, you would be scared, too."

Booth broke eye contact with Hsu, glanced around at the dead bodies around the room, then looked at the billionaire again. "I kill people for a living—one former student of science doesn't frighten me." He stood up and left the room, and Hsu's former bodyguard's followed him out.

* * *

><p>Five minutes later, Booth was sitting in the front of the helicopter he charted for his meeting with Hsu, the two bodyguards whose loyalty he bought seated in the back. The helicopter pilot hadn't asked why he was taking on two more passengers, just as Booth had told him not to.<p>

In all, Booth thought his meeting with Hsu had gone well: Booth got the information he came for; he gained two more allies in the form of the former bodyguards; and he gave the Russians what they wanted—proof giving him resources would give them more resources.

He hated the fact he was having to work with the Russian mafa. They were brutal, merciless, and incredibly focused when conducting their operations; Booth almost admired how well they were organized.

But he knew what they did, what kind of businesses they had. He felt a little dirty working with the Russian mob, but he also knew they were his only option for an ally. They were the most powerful, well organized, and best equipped group outside the armed forces of a developed nation. Booth needed talent like that, if he was going to have any chance of staying ahead of the S.T.F long enough to complete his plans.

Booth looked down as his phone lit up. It was displaying a text message from Dmitry, the Russian mob boss Booth had been trying to gain the support of.

_I have received your money. We have a deal. What do you need to bring your plan to fruition?_

Booth allowed himself a small smile. He had Dmitry on his side, now—he was one step closer to his eventual goal. Then he typed a reply out.

_Two dozen good men. One fifth of the money I transferred to your account to cover expenses and investments. As much battle armor, weapons, and ammo that can be spared. And finally, vehicles and enough fuel to cover a thousand mile journey over rough terrain._

Ned sent the text and waited for a reply. It came half a minute later.

_If you produce a tenth of the profits you promised, such an investment is nothing in comparison. Where does this equipment need put in place?_

Booth typed out his response without hesitating.

_As far south of you as you can get. We need to go to Africa._

* * *

><p><strong>(Human calendar) August 10, 2013 1:03 A.M (UTC-6:00 Mountain Standard Time)<strong>

**(Cybertronian Date) 1103432 (Centi-vorns since Golden Age)**

**Ventqura Munitum, unknown star system in the NGC 3109 galaxy (Unofficially named)**

Extremis stared down at the pedestal in front of him, servos hanging neatly at his sides.

He was in his hidden room for the second time within the jour. Unlike when he opened its door for the first time in many vorns, he did not know why it seemed that every cycle he felt compelled to return to his secret room—he had never sensed the urge to spend time in the hidden room before the Xel'Tor arrived.

He found the new urge to be a distraction. A distraction that not only was commonly able to keep him from his duties until he cleared thoughts of them from his CPU, but could actually cause him physical pain if he was not careful with how he handled his memories. And nothing within the room could hurt him as much as the objects on the pedestal he stood before.

There were only three objects on the pedestal: a shard of metal; a small and crudely-built audio recorder; and a simple carving made of stone.

Out of all the objects in the room, the ones on this pedestal were the least significant, the most unassuming. But to Extremis, they had more to them than anything else in the room. When he looked at those three odd objects, his vision narrowed until they were all he saw. He heard nothing, made no movement at all. It was like he turned into a statue when he was near the pedestal.

Yet, he still felt nothing as he looked at them—he did not let himself do so. Of all the objects in the room, these three were the only ones he refused to even think about beyond the fact there was a reason why he kept them in his hidden sanctuary. Average memories were quick to process and easy to simply not think about; any other type of memory was not.

And if just looking at other objects in the room was able to distract Extremis—who _never_ let himself be distracted—then these three would never let him go, never let him think logically, unless he continued to keep them out of his helm.

He knew that from past experience.

Vigilance's voice suddenly came through a speaker in the wall. _"Extremis—there is a matter that will require your attention."_

Extremis space bridged himself out of his secret room and into his workplace without lingering another nano-klick, forcing his CPU to snap back into its normal cold and logical thinking. "What is it?"

"_Second Commander Lancer is reporting a Code-7 alert at the Zuronator hatching facility. He and members of his staff have retreated to the roof of PRD Facility-10. He has sent a request for extraction to High General Praxis, and has sent a formal request through an official channel to gain an audience with you upon his rescue."_

The Paraions' leader took the news of a Code-7 alert—meaning a facility was shut down and its internal containment procedures had suffered catastrophic failure—without so much as a trace of surprise, mentally or physically. With how dangerous the Zuronators were, it was only a matter of time before a Code-7 was triggered; it happened the first time Extremis ordered the eggs of the Zuronators to be hatched, and back then they only hatched three eggs.

Extremis knew that Lancer had hatched thousands of times that number in the previous mega-cycles. That could potentially lead to a new cycle starting.

Zuronators were Ventqura Munitum's deadliest land predator. They were so deadly in fact, that the species was only active on Ventqura Munitum once in every thousand centi-vorns; they would render the planet without wildlife otherwise. When they were about to enter their long cycle of hibernation, male Zuronators searched for mates, the females gathered together and laid their Diamond-hard eggs in deep underground caves, and then all the adults would die out. After the Zuronator embryos finished their incredibly long, thousand centi-vorn development period inside their eggs, they hatched, and then they went hunting. And so the cycle would continue.

Until Extremis had discovered the network of caves containing the Zuronator eggs, after his organization witnessed from orbit one of their cycles of hunting just after they arrived on Ventqura Munitum. He had PRD Facility-10 built directly over the cave network's only entrance, and placed every egg they found in a stasis field that prevented the Zuronator's from hatching, but let them reach maturity inside. It had been more than five-thousand centi-vorns since the planet experienced a cycle of Zuronator hunting.

"I will go to him. Continue to monitor operations while I am away." Extremis space bridged himself thousands of kilometers away after giving his command to Vigilance, far away from his island and to the smallest of Ventqura Munitum's continents.

He came to stand on top of a large building, a third the size of own facility at ten miles square in area. It was PRD Facility-10, commonly called the Pit's Fire by Extremis' followers.

The Pit's Fire was surrounded by dense jungle, as was nearly ninety percent of the planet's landmass. The trees were thick and averaged more than two-hundred meters in height. It had a hundred meter-tall, twenty meter-thick, octagonal perimeter wall lined with automated defense towers to keep the local wildlife—fearsome even by Ventqura Munitum's standards—away from the main building. An artificial plain three-hundred meters wide separated the wall and the jungle. Inside the wall, there was a small ship loading dock, an energon storage and processing plant, more automated defense towers, and general quarters for Facility-10's staff.

Extremis turned and saw a collection of mechs and femmes gathered near Facility-10's emergency extraction point, a landing pad near the only lift that had access to the roof. The majority of them were unarmed scientists, but Extremis saw that there were a dozen soldiers in their midst, guarding the door to the lift.

The soldiers were the first to notice that Extremis had arrived. Their sergeant barked out a quick order to his soldiers, and they all faced their leader and snapped crisp salutes before returning to guarding the doors. The scientists noticed Extremis only after the soldiers saluted; they stiffened at the sight of him standing no more than a hundred meters away.

A dark red mech with light blue trim walked out toward Extremis, but stopped more than a frame length away. He was average size for a mech, but still less than half Extremis' sixty-six foot height. "I… I wasn't expecting you to come out here yourself, sir." His voice was quiet and lacked strength, a common occurrence whenever Extremis was near him.

"This facility is important, Lancer—it is high on the list of my priorities," said Extremis, his unnaturally mechanical and low voice clashing with Lancer's like water and fire. He looked at the group of scientists and soldiers, and found there were one-hundred and forty-six including Lancer himself. "Less than one third of your staff. What happened?"

"The... Zuronators got out."

"How?"

Lancer flinched at Extremis' tone, or lack thereof; the mech never reacted to anything. "They've been acting strangely recently. One moment they're docile like they had been since we started implanting neural inhibitors, and the next they were going crazy, attacking their cages. We've been able to contain them easily enough, keep some of the larger ones sedated. But this time, there was something different. They fought more fiercely, had more strength and power in their attacks. Some even died in their escape attempts. The rest got out, and we're… We're the only ones who got away from them."

Extremis was unsurprised by that—Zuronators were unlike any creature Extremis had seen before, even Cybertronians would be hard pressed to stand against them. That was why Extremis wanted to use them. "When precisely did they begin to behave abnormally?"

"I believe it started a few solar-cycles ago, after we had finished hatching that cycle's batch of eggs."

"Did you encounter anything unusual that cycle?"

"No… Wait." Lancer paused, looking thoughtful. "There was an egg we hatched that was larger than the others, had a different coloration to it."

That started to turn the gears in Extremis' super-genius-level CPU. "Was the Zuronator it produced also unique?"

Understanding entered Lancer's optics, temporarily replacing the wariness they had held since Extremis arrived. "It was. Its horns were sharper, more pronounced when freshly hatched. It also has been growing even faster than the others, adding more armor. I had thought it was merely a male who was maturing more rapidly than normal, but I think it may have be—"

"An Alpha," Extremis finished, having reached the exact same conclusion the moment Lancer confirmed the Zuronator was different from the others. "Its presence was affecting the behavior of the others."

"Even with the neural inhibitors present? I thought you said they would prevent something like this from happening… Sir." Lancer added the last word quickly, taking a step back and avoiding Extremis' gaze in an effort to show he was not questioning his leader.

Extremis allowed the slight to go unpunished this time. "It appears Alpha Zuronators have stronger minds than I anticipated."

"If you're correct, sir—not that I'm saying you're wrong!—then what do we… Do?"

"You will do nothing; I will be entering the facility shortly."

The optics of every mech and femme in the vicinity turned to look at Extremis in horror, then turned away just as quickly when Extremis in turn glanced at them.

Lancer was the first to find his voice, albeit even quieter than it had been before. "Uh… What, sir?"

Extremis didn't bother to answer the Second Commander's question, and walked toward the soldiers guarding the door to the lift. When he reached the door, he told the sergeant, "Open it."

The sergeant remained where he was, too shocked by his leader's earlier proclamation to move.

After the sergeant failed to move after three micro-klicks, Extremis waved his servo in front of the door. The air between his servo and the door appeared to fracture and sway, like it was hot. Then with a groan and snap that hurt the audio receptors of all but Extremis, the door's lock was broken and the door forcibly slid open.

Extremis lowered his servo and stepped onto the lift beyond. He pressed the holographic button that would take the lift down, and looked at the still silent sergeant. "Your unwillingness to follow orders will be dealt with later." The door closed, and Extremis started to descend downward.

The lift took mere moments to reach the floor Extremis desired. He stepped out into the hallway beyond, noting the dim emergency lighting and energon on parts of the floor. No offlined frames were in sight, and his superior hearing picked up nothing.

He turned left from the lift and walked down the middle of the hallway. Further down the hallway that he encountered the first frame of a deceased Paraion. It was a mech, although he was unrecognizable—he had been torn into dozens of pieces.

Extremis gave the offlined mech's parts a blank look before sidestepping them and continuing on toward his destination: the central hall.

During Extremis' first attempt to hatch the Zuronators, he had discovered the creatures were naturally drawn to sources of energy and power. Back then, the three Zuronators had nested near piece of lab equipment that ran on a small energon generator. But with how many Zuronators had already been hatched, it was going to take a lot more power to get them to all come to the same location.

He already knew what he needed to do to accomplish that.

Extremis' senses detected a vibration in the super-dense metal making up the floor, a subtle change in the air, a hiss quieter than a faint whisper.

Something was behind him.

Extremis dodged to the right, and a Zuronator tumbled across the floor, unable to adjust in time to its prey moving out of its way.

The creature was built powerfully, muscles rippling under thick dark scales that shone like polished marble and could shrug off all but the most powerful infantry weapons. It stood more than thirty feet tall at the shoulder, and was nearly as wide its broadest point. Long spikes shot up from its shoulders and ran along its entire spine. A long, spiked tail trailed behind it, accounting for more than half of its two-hundred foot length. It moved on six legs, its back set of legs slightly longer than those ahead of them. Four long claws that were sharp enough to cut through most Cybertronian metals with ease were on each foot. Its head was angular, horned, and long, with dozens of long and sharp teeth set in jaws powerful enough to crush anything it could fit in its mouth. Two yellow reptilian eyes glowed in the dim lighting, vertical pupils focused on Extremis even as it slowly got back on its feet.

Extremis made no move to fall into a combat stance, staring into the Zuronator's eyes. He saw everything he expected to see in the eyes of a predator on the hunt: focus; animalistic bloodlust; hunger. But there was one thing Extremis saw that he had not expected.

Sentient intelligence. Curious.

The Zuronator roared, and the floor shook with its volume and depth. Then it leapt at Extremis.

Extremis' only reaction was to calmly raise a servo.

The Zuronator found itself floating above the floor, unable to move anything besides its eyes; they glowed in hatred, something else an animal did not have the ability to possess.

"You are intriguing, creature," Extremis said, well aware it did not even have the capability to respond to him. "You have revealed more to me about your species than I expected to discover. But that will not be enough to save your life." He closed his servo into a fist.

The sound of bones and armored scales snapping and breaking filled the hallway.

Extremis released his hold on the Zuronator, and its broken and warped body fell to the floor with a wet thud, violet blood pouring out onto the floor. Then Extremis walked forward, sidestepped the blood as he had the energon earlier, and continued down the hallway.

He encountered no more Zuronators on his way to the central hall, but he could feel they were nearby even as he reached his destination.

The central hall was a long, high-ceilinged room in the middle of Facility-10. It was one mile in length, and levels one through ten had at least a walkway that went all the way around the room.

It was the perfect location to lure all the Zuronators into one place.

Extremis stood in the exact middle of the hall, on the top part of a small staircase visible from everywhere in the room. He closed his optics and took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly—it echoed in the hall deeply. Then he let his power fully show itself.

Tendrils of white, lightning bolt-like energy appeared from his servos and started spreading. It creeped up his servos, spread across his chestplates and down to his pedes, rolled over his shoulder-joints and backplates, and flowed over his helm. He appeared like a star in that dark room.

His optics opened, and they glowed white with only a trace of their usual ruby. In a voice that was even more mechanical and deep than he normally used, he called into the darkness, "COME, ALPHA—COME PROVE YOUR WORTH AGAINST A WARRIOR OF ANGORNIX."

Roars of anger echoed around the room, and the floor started to shake from the sheer number of Zuronators sprinting toward the central hall.

It appeared his plan was working.

Extremis forced his power to return to its passive display, returning him to his normal appearance. He opened his right servo and pulled a hilt off his hip that was disguised as part of his armor.

Quickly and smoothly, pieces of a large, pure white broadsword formed from the hilt. Each piece seemed to materialize from thin air, slotting into place so completely science had no way of showing where the sword would have broken apart. Once it was complete, the pure white sword began to glow and shimmer like fire. It lit up the central hall even more than Extremis' previous display had.

The predators came flooding into the room moments later. They ranged greatly in size. Some were five foot-long individuals Extremis' Paraions must have hatched earlier that cycle, some were females—slimmer Zuronators with less spikes and longer tails—only three quarters of the size the one Extremis killed in the hallway, and a few were monsters who stood nearly fifty feet tall at the shoulder.

They were nothing in comparison to the Alpha.

He came up through the floor, from the cave network below. He was more than twice the size of any other Zuronator in the room. His spikes were longer, his teeth more jagged, horns longer than Extremis' servos and thicker than his chestplates. Massive wings stretched from its back, each longer than his entire body. The Alpha's eyes were eager and filled with lust for battle.

Briefly, Extremis wondered how the Alpha had grown so quickly. Then he considered how acidic the stomach of a Zuronator was, how it consumed anything it got in its mouth, and matched that fact with how he had seen few Cybertronian remains on his way to the central hall. Then it made sense: the Alpha could eat whatever it wished and convert it into energy to fuel its body, so it had eaten the frames and energon of the Paraions to accelerate its growth.

The Alpha roared, drowning out all roars of other members of its species, and took to the air to attack Extremis.

Extremis looked up at the creature blankly, waiting. Not yet…

The Alpha swooped in, claws extended.

Now.

Faster than any normal eye or optic could follow, Extremis jumped into the air and swung his sword at the joint of the Alpha's left wing. His blade cut through the scales, muscle, and bone as if it hadn't even been there.

The Alpha roared in pain and spun to the floor, helpless to control its flight. Its landing shook the ground like an earthquake, and the crash it produced was thunderous.

Extremis landed on his pedes easily and pointed his sword toward the fallen Alpha in challenge; the other Zuronators roared at him in outrage, but didn't move close to him.

In micro-klicks, the Alpha was back on his feet. He roared again, this time in fury. Two glands on either side of his massive head pulsed light blue, and he opened his jaws and let loose a jet of plasma.

Extremis raised his servo, and the plasma dispersed around him—it scorched the metal floor and made it glow red-hot. When the Alpha ran out of plasma, Extremis lowered his servo and started to slowly walk toward the Alpha.

The Alpha slammed its front legs down on the floor, cracking it. Then he rushed forward to meet Extremis' challenge.

Extremis casually waved his servo again and kept it raised.

The Alpha went flying into the wall, breaking its other wing and the wall itself. Still it got back up, and roared again before swiping at Extremis with its tail.

White energy surrounded Extremis' servo, and a bolt of it flew at the Alpha's tail at the speed of light and severed half of it off completely. The rest of the tail began turning to white ashes.

The Alpha roared again, but this time it was from agony and fear. It spun around in a vain attempt to stop its tail from turning to ashes. It no longer paid attention to Extremis.

Using the distraction to his advantage, Extremis threw his sword into the knee of the Alpha, causing it to roar again and fall heavily to the floor.

The Alpha tried returning to its feet, but fell over in the attempt. An almost pitiful-sounding growl escaped its throat.

Extremis summoned his sword to him again with a raised servo, walked the rest of the distance to the fallen Alpha, and cut off what remained of its tail to prevent the energy from spreading to the Alpha's main body.

This action was met with dead silence. The other Zuronators looked on, rooted in place by their Alpha's express command to stay out of the fight.

The Paraions' leader walked to the Alpha's head, and stared into its eyes. Those eyes glared at him in pure hatred and fury, but also grudging respect and even fear—the Alpha was viewing him as a worthy opponent.

Extremis raised his sword until it was aimed directly into the Alpha's eye. "I know you can understand me, beast."

The Alpha's eye narrowed in fury at the term 'Beast.'

"Listen to me carefully: this is a Shard of Oblivion."

Pure, unadulterated terror entered the Alpha's eye, and it tried to move away from the sword.

This fact was not missed by Extremis. "It seems your kind have seen swords like it before, and still know of them after all this time. And now you have tasted its wrath. You and your kind will serve me for as long as I deem, or I will wipe out your race from existence. Make your decision."

The Alpha stared at Extremis for several long moments in defiance, then he lowered his head down as low as he could, avoiding his optics—he was acknowledging Extremis as the more powerful predator.

Shuffling from behind him gained Extremis' attention, and he looked over his shoulder-joint. The other Zuronators—from the smallest to the largest—had all faced him and were lowering their heads as a sign of submission.

His plan had worked. The Zuronators were his.

No, Extremis suddenly decided, not the Zuronators—that was a term for animals, and he had discovered they were not mere animals. They needed a new name.

He considered all he knew of the reptiles: how fast they grew; how much they ate; how they fought; how many eggs females laid and how easy it was to accelerate the development of the embryos inside.

Then he had it.

Extremis looked back at the Alpha and said, "From this moment on, you will be _my_ Swarm."

* * *

><p><strong>As I said before: plot PROGRESSION, not new ones. There's still a difference. That's the defense I've given and I'm sticking to it. Fun fact: It has been more than a year since the last time Extremis or Ned Booth were featured. Weird, huh?<strong>

**I will let you all know now that I will be focusing on writing on my novel and Last of the Wyrms - at least for one chapter apiece. I've neglected both of those stories, and I feel it's time to really work on them. I'm definitely not leaving this alone for long, but I DO have other ideas I need to write down. Haha.**

**This chapter will contain three credit songs, because why not?**

**The first credit song is "Derek & Brandom Fiechter - Shadow Lands" Originally, I had a different song here; however, after listening to it again, I found it really didn't fit for Shadowstreaker's part. At least, the lyrics didn't - the sound was fine. So, I have gone with one that is a simple - yet well done - epic music track that gives one the feeling of uncertainty, and just a touch of creepiness. Perfect for how Shadowstreaker and Prowl's section ended, and a small reminder of the reactor room.**

**The second credit song is "Linkin Park - The Requiem" Just a short song with few real lyrics, but I think it fits with Ned Booth's scene.**

**The third credit song is "R. Armando Morabito & Tina Guo - Soul Fire" This one has that dark, rhythmic chill and ominous feeling to it that fits with Extremis. It fits very well with Extremis, and the note I left the chapter on. I recommend listening to this one.**

**And so ends my author's notes. Please take a moment or two to leave your thoughts in a review, or send me a PM.**

**Thank you for reading, and I hope you all have wonderful days and or nights. :)**

**See you soon.**


	42. Fine

**Well, seems I'm back to the slow updates. Sorry about that; I'm doing my best.**

**Most of what I am going to say is at the bottom, including an IMPORTANT NOTE. Please be sure to read that.**

**Thank you to those that reviewed since last chapter. I appreciate each and every word used (besides the couple guest reviews I had to delete because of language). :)**

**Guest (Chapter 41) - Thank you. I try to use guns that fit the situation, particularly when it involves non-military personnel. And I quite like the FN Five-seven - surprisingly powerful and twenty rounds a clip. Can't argue with that.**

**No comment regarding the attacker.**

**As to Extremis, well - no comment, either. I will say that I have enough material for him to make a half dozen novels just about him. Not kidding.**

**And I'm always working on this; I say I'm working on my novel because I am splitting my attention between the two. Thanks for wishing me luck on the novel, by the way!**

**Thanks for reviewing, and I hope you enjoy this update.**

**Guest (Chapter 4) - I am kind of writing my own stuff right now - sharing the plots I've invented. The Season 1 Finale is going to show up at some point, but - as I like to do - most canon material I use for this story is modified to suit the chapter I want to write.**

**Thanks for the review/question.**

**Guest (Chapter 17) - Hmm. A good choice, though it might be a little too fast-paced for the scene you're talking about. I will still consider that when I get to rewriting that chapter.**

**Thanks for the suggestion.**

**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.**

* * *

><p><strong>August 10, 2013 1:49 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

"Get the sword, get the sword!"

"I can't; I have a Colossus in my way. It's a bit of an issue."

"Then cover me! I might be able t—crap!"

"And you're dead."

"Did you see that?! The shot _followed_ me around the corner! It doesn't do that! I hate the Colossus' OP Magic Blast, and the game for cheating! Damn it!"

"We have young ears nearby—watch your tongue."

Miko switched to her native language.

I turned my holoform's head toward Miko, widening its eyes to show my surprise at her choice of words.

After I had finished clearing out Kilo-9, I spent the remainder of the cycle passing time in the Safe and playing games with Raf and Miko until I went to recharge. The game we had played the most was one they had purchased the cycle before last—Dawn of Civilization: Empires.

Dawn of Civilization was a first-person role-playing game set during an alternate Earth. In this parallel Earth, the continents were still joined together as Pangaea, leaving all peoples from ancient history and prehistory to live together. Magic, creatures of myth, and legends of folklore were also very real and incredibly powerful on this Earth. You started the game out as an up-and-coming warrior in a remote tribe on a continent and territory of the player's choosing. As you play, you earn respect in your tribe; and as you earn respect, your chances of becoming the next leader of the tribe are increased.

Eventually, you become the leader, and from there you can choose what path your tribe follows in the future: a conqueror of lands, where you lead the tribe into battles against increasingly larger rival tribes and merge them with your own, forming the beginnings of an empire; a cultured society, in which you focus on developing the tribe into the world's first true civilization and, in turn, its first nation; lovers of technology, where you discover and invent new technologies to make the lives of the tribe easier, and eventually gain enough influence to have other tribes join you; or children of the ancients, where you lead your tribe to searching for their origins through clues across the world. There were many ways to play each path, and there were dozens of aspects of running a tribe, and eventually even a massive empire set in modern times, that you could control directly or allow advisers to control for you. But no matter how far along you advanced, you still had to deal with monsters causing chaos.

Miko, Raf, and I were currently playing the game—Raf had died earlier—and were passing time before Jack and Arcee finally returned to base from Jack's double shift—he was 'Sleeping it off,' in Miko's words. We were on a quest to slay a Titan attempting to escape from the Underworld, but could only succeed by stabbing it with an ancient sword that had been wielded by a legendary hero during the war between humanity and the Titans thousands of years before the game's events.

The problem was, the temple where the sword was resting was guarded by a pair of stone Colossus'. They were giant, non-sentient enemies made to be weapons of war by old humanity that had been alone so long they now saw anything that wasn't another Colossus as an enemy. They were among the most difficult enemies we had encountered so far in the game, even on the lowest difficulty.

And we set the game to its highest difficulty—Nightmare—when we started this co-op playthrough.

It probably hadn't been the best idea, admittedly.

"What's she saying?" Raf asked me, raising his eyebrows as Miko kept going on in her native language.

"Nothing I should utter out loud."

"That bad?"

"Worse. It's actually impressive; I never knew you could use so many ordinary words in such a manner."

"... Cool?" Raf asked, tone and face showing his confusion on how to feel about Miko's creativity when it came to cursing in her native language.

I laughed and returned to focusing on my own character in the game. I was playing as a Centurion, a class designed to be a tank with some limited magical abilities. I had my character equipped with a full set of Skel, the best armor there was in the current era our game was set in—the Time of Myths. The Skel shield had a fifty percent resistance to most forms of magic, and my sword could fire bolts of fire and was enchanted to be more difficult to shatter. I also had a staff for more powerful magic attacks that I could switch for my sword.

The Colossus that had been keeping me from the sword since we reached the main chamber threw a boulder at my character, forcing me to place my character behind a pillar on the outskirts of the room. It lumbered toward the pillar, throwing boulders and magical attacks at my cover, breaking away pieces of it.

"Nightmare—the only difficulty that increases environment destruction," said Raf. "Why did we want to play it on Nightmare, again?"

"I was bored," Miko said.

"It was a challenge," I said, using a tone that make it clear I was second-guessing myself on that choice.

I moved my character out from behind the rapidly-deteriorating pillar to get behind a different pillar, firing four fire bolts as I ran between cover.

Only two of my fire bolts hit the Colossus, and they barely managed to even make the health bar of the giant enemy move, and those attacks would have killed or seriously injured basic enemies. The other two bolts flew through the air and hit the far wall.

"_That _sure helped," said Miko sarcastically.

"Excuse me, but aren't you dead? I seem to recall you flying into a storm of curses and insults in Japanese, mostly about the developers' mothers."

The Japanese teen's only response was to curse at me in her native language.

Waiting until another boulder was thrown into my cover, I had my character run out from behind the pillar and rush the Colossus as it went down to pick up another rock to throw. My character slashed multiple times at the Colossus' hand as its primitive AI told it to change attacks since it detected the player had left cover. The sword cut into the stone of the Colossus' hand, sending dust and rock fragments out from the wound. Same as when the firebolts hit it, the Colossus' health bar was barely drained by my character's attack.

As soon as I landed my strikes, I had my character roll backward to avoid the Colossus' counterattack of stomping the ground where my Centurion had been standing. Even though I had moved my character back, the stomp still emitted a shockwave of splash damage that took down my health by a quarter.

"That's not good," I said, mostly to myself as I had my character run away and swap out its sword for its staff.

A Magic Blast—sent from the second Colossus, the one which had killed Miko—crashed about twenty feet in front of my character. The splash damage reduced my Centurion's health to less than a third and caused my part of the screen to begin flashing red. I had been lucky—a direct hit would have killed me even with full health.

"Now it's _really_ not good," said Raf. "And after that, it'll be a disaster. I think it'll get to that level in about a minute."

"Hey, Raf. Of the three of us, who died to the Trolls at the temple entrance?"

"That never happened."

"Really? Because I had a perfect memory even while I was human, and I remember you getting impaled by a troll's arm spike."

"... Let's not talk about it."

"Are you going to take back your time estimate?"

"No. I'll just extend it to one and a half minutes."

"Fair enough, considering my situation."

As Raf and I conversed, I moved my Centurion back around a corner to drink a potion to restore half my health without having to worry about the Colossus'. Then I ran my character around the bend again and used its staff to fire a bolt of lightning at the first Colossus; if I didn't focus my efforts on only one at a time, there was no way I would even have a chance to kill either of them.

The lightning bolt staggered the Colossus back, charring its shoulder. Its health went down _maybe_ two percent, far more than any other attacks I had used. The thing was damn tough—Summon Lightning was my most powerful non-Power Attack move.

With my strongest attack basically useless, I had my character duck into cover, then I asked a very important question: "Should I use a Divine Gem?"

Divine Gems were a spherical, octagon-shaped, fragile diamonds of unknown origin. They held incredible amounts of magical power that could be used for a great number of uses, including boosting combat abilities, but they were very rare; for every hundred gemstone you encountered—they themselves a rare find in loot—you would get one Divine Gem, two if you were lucky. Because of their rarity and wide range of uses, they were worth more than twenty times their weight in Gold and Silver. We had a total of four Divine Gems between the three of us.

Miko and Raf looked at each other uncertainly, both clearly weighing the worth of one of our Divine Gems against the rewards we would get from completing the quest.

"I don't know," said Raf. "We're only going to get a hundred Gold and some class items from this quest. From where I'm sitting right now, it's not worth it. But I still don't know."

"Then let us do it! The Gold is just what we _know_ we're getting from the quest," said Miko. "Remember how we thought we'd only get a bar of Silver from the quest to hunt down the Mountain Dragon? We ended up getting a portion of the Dragon's horde for saving the Chieftain's brother! I say take the risk!"

"Two votes to one, Raf," I said, making my character scramble for new cover since my old cover was beginning to break. "And you're running out of time to vote. What's it going to be?"

The youngest teen sighed. "Alright. Do it."

I had my character equip a Divine Gem and crush it in its hand. Immediately a white haze appeared on my portion of the screen, and my character let out a furious battle cry. My Centurion jumped out from behind cover, staff blazing with light, ready to fight the two Colossus' with the strength of a dozen me—

Then a magic blast from each Colossus hit my character directly, as if they had known I would be standing there before I did. They sent my character flying across the digital room and took my health all the way down to zero, despite the massive physical and magical resistance the Divine Gem had given my character.

Dead silence descended on all three of us as the game over screen appeared on the TV. None of us wanted to believe how easily I had just been killed, and none of us wanted to acknowledge the fact I just wasted one of our Divine Gems.

Fragging Colossus' Magic Blasts. Miko was right—the game is cheating.

"I hate this game; I really do," Raf said, breaking our collective silence. "First I die about ten seconds after we reach the temple, then Miko gets killed by a homing Magic Blast, now Shadowstreaker gets wrecked _right_ after using a Divine Gem." He looked at me. "Thanks for that, by the way."

"Think nothing of it—I always try my best."

Miko stood up and tossed her controller on the couch. "I can't play this game anymore. I can't. I'm just gonna end up breaking my controller. This is bul—"

"_Bulkhead to base—we finished our sweep of the cave in Sector 19. Requesting a space bridge."_

Ignoring Miko's frustrated cursing, I dematerialized my holoform and transformed from my MRAP mode into my true form, quickly walking up to the workstation. I was on space bridge duty at the moment, and as such I needed to find out what the problem was. It probably hadn't been a good idea to play video games while I was on duty, but I had figured—why not? I had been stressed recently, and nothing bad had happened while I was on duty. And if it did, I would only be delayed in reacting by a few micro-klicks. What was the big deal about a few micro-klicks?

After I reached the workstation, I turned off the alert and answered Bulkhead as I typed in a command to open a bridge at Bulkhead and Springer's coordinates, "Opening bridge."

The space bridge opened, and Bulkhead and Springer stepped into the space bridge tunnel.

"About time. It almost seemed like you were giving us the silent treatment," Springer joked once he and Bulkhead entered the ops center, walking toward me while Bulkhead walked over to Miko and Raf.

I shut off the space bridge and looked at the green Triple-Changer. "I wasn't giving you the silent treatment; I was playing Dawn of Civilization with Miko and Raf."

That got a surprised look from Springer. "You weren't operating the space bridge while you were on shift?"

I shrugged. "I needed to reduce the amount of stress I've been under recently. Playing Dawn of Civilization was a great way to relax, plus kills time. And I was never far away from the workstation. Seemed like it wouldn't be a big deal."

"... Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"Slacking off just isn't like you—you usually barely move until you're relieved."

"So it's strange I acted more like a person and less like a mech on autopilot?"

"Y—nevermind. I guess I just find it strange that for you placed fun ahead of your duties, especially with how you've been recently."

I tuned Springer out for a moment and looked over at the entertainment center as Bulkhead transformed and activated his holoform to take over my character on Dawn of Civilization. Then I focused back on Springer. "How'd the recon mission go?"

The green Triple-Changer was silent for a long moment, staring at me with confused optics, then he shook his helm and replied with, "It went well. 'Cons weren't active for once, so we were able to search the entire sector without any interruptions."

"Find anything?"

"Nothing besides snow and rocks."

"Not even in the cave you decided to explore?"

"Besides more rocks? Nothing major, just trace readings of energon. It was probably used to store energon at some point after Cybertron went dark, but it's been gone for a long time."

"Sounds like it was no more eventful than a typical patrol," I concluded.

Springer shrugged. "I'll take a boring patrol over an action-filled one. Less gunfire that way."

I smirked. "Now where's the fun in that?"

Springer frowned. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes…?" I asked uncertainly, confused why Springer was essentially repeating his previous question—he usually only did that when he didn't receive an answer. "Are _you _okay? You're the only one of us acting strange."

The base's proximity sensor activating cut Springer off before he could respond. I turned to see what the alert was, and smiled. Arcee was approaching the entrance tunnel with Jack.

I typed the command to open the front door and stepped away from the workstation to wait in the center of the ops center for Arcee and Jack to arrive. Faintly, I could feel Springer continuing to frown at me. I ignored him and and his odd mood, and focused on waiting for my courted to arrive.

I soon started to pick up the high-pitch whine of Arcee's engine echoing from the tunnel. Then I saw her round the bend with Jack. Shortly after that, Arcee came to a stop and Jack climbed off her and took off his helmet groggily; I saw a lot of fatigue in his eyes once his helmet was off.

"Hey," the oldest teen greeted me slowly, and sleepily made his way passed me without waiting for me to greet him back.

I wonder, did he sleep on the way over here? He's acting like he got up a klick ago. Double shift must have been hard on him.

After Jack climbed off and walked away, Arcee transformed gracefully and looked at me, a servo coming to rest on her hip. "Sorry about the long wait, Shadow'—sleepy head over there wasn't cooperating with my demand to get up. Had to resort to blasting my horn until he couldn't sleep anymore, no matter how much he wanted to."

I smiled down at Arcee, not caring about her apology, only that she was here. I closed the distance between us and wrapped a servo around the small of her backplates and pulled her in against my frame, drawing a sound of exclamation from my courted. Then I spun around and dipped her down low, so that she was mostly parallel with the floor. Then I kissed her passionately, enjoying the feeling that spread through me whenever we shared a moment like this. After two micro-klicks, I broke the kiss and returned Arcee to her standing position, giving her one last little half spin as I let her go.

My courted blinked rapidly after I let her go, as if dazed and surprised by my sudden action; however, she also didn't seem displeased. Far from it, in fact.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw everyone else looking at Arcee and I—mostly me—in shock, like they couldn't believe I had done that. Why would they be surprised? Let's see _them_ control themselves after not seeing their courted for more than a cycle.

Miko looked at Jack—who was on the final steps leading up to the entertainment center—and asked, "How come you don't do stuff like that with me?"

"Because you already swoon," answered Jack groggily.

"I do not swoon!"

"You do, too."

"I am exaggerating for your benefit!"

"Aww. You're adorable when you lie."

I saw Raf close his eyes and mouth, "Please, to anyone who is listening to me right now, please for the love all that is holy don't let Shadowstreaker and Arcee become any more like Jack and Miko."

Arcee recovered from her initial surprise and said, "Shadow'... That—"

"Was great, unexpected, profound?" I offered with a grin.

"—was totally unlike you," she finished as if I hadn't spoken, now looking more confused than pleased. "Where the pit did _that_ come from, anyway?"

I shrugged, not really sure why she was finding my behavior strange. I loved her, why wouldn't I show it? "I just haven't seen you in more than a full cycle. I wanted to show you how much I missed you, so I did. That a bad thing?"

My courted shook her helm. "No. It's just you don't like being so… Open in displaying affection—you don't try kissing me while around others unless I'm the one who does it. The only time you've ever even tried was when you returned to Earth. What changed?"

I shrugged again. "I don't know. I just like being spontaneous."

"... You like to plan things."

I checked my internal clock to see how long I had left in my shift at the space bridge. Two 'o clock. I was finished, and had to get back to my quarters before I had to report to the top of the base for my next assignment; I had to finish a little side project.

Last night, I had taken a lot longer to fall into recharge than usual for a reason I didn't know. During my long breems of staring at the ceiling, my CPU randomly created the idea for a surprise gift to give Arcee this cycle. I liked the gift and the meaning it had behind it, so I onlined even earlier than I typically did and raided a storage hanger for the scrap parts and tools I needed to make the gift a reality. I had made good progress on it before getting stuck, and the thought of the gift had been in the back of my CPU since I started my shift of space bridge duty.

"I'm off space bridge duty. About time," I said, and started to walk toward the hallway.

"Where are you going, Shadow'?" Arcee asked. "I just got here and you're leaving?"

"I've got some stuff I need to do. Once I'm done, we'll spend some time together."

"You aren't even going to wait until the bot scheduled for the next shift gets here to relieve you?"

"Nope. They should have been here when I got off. Now it's not my problem. I'll comm you when I'm free again."

I walked out of the ops center and into the hallway to my quarters before Arcee said anything else, focusing on my thoughts of finishing my gift for her. I had figured out how to get passed the issue that had stumped me before, but now I also had even less time to finish it—didn't want to end the cycle without giving it to Arcee.

With my processor occupied by my thoughts of how to make Arcee's gift, I didn't notice the cold stare my courted started to give me as soon as I started to leave the room.

* * *

><p>Arcee felt many things as she watched her courted walk out of the room, none of them good.<p>

Anger was one thing she felt—anger at how he dismissed all she had said and didn't even seem to be apologetic in the fact he was leaving her within five klicks of them reuniting after more than a cycle apart.

Confusion was another thing she felt, directed entirely at how unusual his behavior had been the moment she arrived at base; with how he had been lately—in his overall personality—his 'Spontaneous' moment of showing affection and his carefree behavior were exceedingly abnormal.

And she felt worried. She was worried for her courted. Every ounce of instinct in her frame was telling her he wasn't as well as he seemed to be. And her femme's intuition was saying one thing and one thing only: something was very, very wrong.

"Do you see it?" Springer asked her, stepping up to her side, though at a respectful distance—he hadn't stepped closer than fifteen feet away from her since he returned from the Paraion station with Shadow' and Jetfire. She was thankful he had chosen to change from his ways of drooling after any attractive femme who crossed his path and be a better mech.

"Springer, I'm Shadow's courted. I don't see it; I _feel_ it," Arcee replied, crossing her servos and staring at the hallway entrance. "I feel it in his behavior, in what he says or doesn't acknowledge, in the way he kissed me."

"I didn't need to know that part, you know..."

Arcee rolled her optics. "Yes, I saw it. Happy?"

Springer took a small step away from the blue and pink femme. "That would depend on whether you plan on hurting me if I say yes."

"I do. Want to know how?"

"Whoa, what's got you revved up, Arcee?" Bulkhead asked through his alt mode, finally tuning into the conversation after through his alt mode after dematerializing his holoform once Jack was up at the entertainment center.

"Shadow'," Arcee replied, sounding calmer than she felt—her emotions were a whirlwind at the moment, and her sarcastic remark to Springer showed that. She didn't like not having a full grip on her emotions. "Did you not find how he acted strange, like Springer and I do?"

Bulkhead transformed. "Well, yeah he was acting a little weird, but that's no reason to get upset with him over it. What did he really _do_, anyway?"

"He kissed me."

Bulkhead blinked and looked at Springer like he could interpret what that meant.

Springer gave his fellow Wrecker a helpless shrug. "I agree Shadowstreaker was acting strange even before she got here, but I'm not totally following her on that particular part."

Arcee sighed quietly. Mechs. "I meant what I said about Shadow's comfort level in displaying affection openly."

Bulkhead seemed to start understanding the situation. "Well, yeah his little… Maneuver wasn't like him, but I think this is a little bit of an overreaction to it."

"It's a femme thing," said Arcee.

"Ditto," Miko agreed, also looking at the hallway with an unusually serious look on her face. "I'm not liking this."

"Sometimes people act odd, even if they almost never do,," Jack said. "Maybe he's just in a good mood, seeing his girlfriend after a day. Courted, sorry—I'm running on roughly four hours' sleep."

"Maybe, but that would only go to a point," said Raf, sitting back as he waited to continue playing Dawn of Civilization after Miko returned and Jack took over the Centurion. "Maybe he had a full cube of high-grade last night and he's still feeling the effects. You guys said high-grade affects each bot differently, couldn't it still be affecting him now if he had some last night?"

Jack and the mechs agreed with Raf's statement, but Arcee and Miko didn't. They kept staring at the hallway for far longer than the males and mechs. But eventually, Miko's game called her, and she went back to playing.

Arcee kept staring, feeling there was still something very wrong with her courted, the one she had Imprinted on and who in turn Imprinted on her.

And she was going to find out what it was.

* * *

><p>I placed down the tool usually meant for calibrating weapons and examined Arcee's gift, searching it thoroughly for any chips or other opticsores. I wanted it to be like her: beautiful and perfect.<p>

It was then I realized that the part I used for the stem was rusted beneath the paint, the metal so corroded that flakes of it were falling off when I rubbed it.

With a heavy sigh, I tossed the latest version of Arcee's gift into the 'Trash' box and started going through more parts from the 'Supply' box. I was trying to craft a metal flower for my courted, using her own colors for the flower's appearance: the same tone of azure as her optics for the flower's petals; the same shade of pink she had as accents for its leaves; and her normal blue for the stem of the flower.

No matter what I did, it seemed I always encountered a problem with each version. Sometimes the problem was minor like I had cut or bent the metal a little too much for it to match my mental image of the gift. And other times I did something stupid like make the metal too hot as I reshaped it and cause it to melt. I discarded each and every version; if it wasn't perfect, I wasn't interested in continuing to work on it.

I took a long rod out from the pile and checked more carefully for rust or other reasons why it had been labeled as scrap. Finding one or two minor defects I could burn off with the small plasma cutter I took from the storage hanger I raided, I put the rod on the workbench and went back to the Supply box.

A moment of searching provided me with a wide, thin sheet of metal that held an impressive luster to it—a reaction that some metals had when mixed with even a minute amount of Primax. This would be good for the flower petals. I put the sheet next to the rod and continued searching for parts.

Prowl opened a channel with me just as I resumed my search, _"Shadowstreaker."_

"_Yeah, Prowl?"_

"_You're late in reporting topside."_

I checked my internal clock and cursed at the fact it was eleven klicks past the time Prowl had ordered me to meet him up top. I gave the parts I picked out a regretful look, then stood up. _"I'm on my way, now."_

"_You would be here by now if you properly accounted for travel time."_ Prowl cut the channel without saying anything else.

I shook my helm as I stepped out of my quarters and locked the door behind me. What had him in such a bad mood this cycle? He had been railing on me as soon as I first saw him this cycle. First he had me rearrange a storage hanger he had me organize, said I had done it sloppily. To be fair, I had done it sloppily. But that was no reason to have me do it again. Let the next bot who goes in there do it—I had done _exactly_ what Prowl asked me to do: organize the storage hanger. He hadn't told me to do everything perfectly correct.

Then he refused to let me switch space bridge shifts with Bulkhead, citing that since I was suspended, my preference for when I had my shift at the space bridge was irrelevant. I found that cold.

And then there was his _stare_. Whenever I was in the room, all he did was just stare at me blankly. Even more blankly than his typical look: none of his facial plates moved; his optics contained zero emotion or expression; and his tone of voice remained flat and steady throughout any conversation. It was like he had caught himself feeling emotion, and was now trying twice as hard to keep it away.

It was creepy.

I arrived at the elevator shortly after I left my quarters and arrived at the top of the base. Prowl stood in front of one of our four Warden anti-air cannons we had in case of attack, a box of tools and small parts at his pedes. The Warden was deployed from its camouflaged base, its eighteen massive barrels idle and pointing up at a forty-five degree angle.

Prowl was already looking in my direction by the time I stepped off the elevator. "Thirteen klicks and twenty-two micro-klicks late. Being this late during Autobot Armed Forces training would have gotten you punished for a mega-cycle by the instructors."

"You sound like that's what you want to do to me," I said.

"The thought has crossed my processor."

I laughed at his words, thinking it an exceptionally rare joke on his part, until I realized that emotionless stare of his didn't change at all. "Wait, you're serious?"

"I run on logic; logic and being serious go with one another."

I balked. "I'm less than fifteen klicks late, and you want to toss me in the brig?"

"When your superior officer tells you the time and location to report, you report to that location _when they tell you_. Always."

"It was a simple mistake! I lost track of time working on something for Arcee," I said. "Sorry I was late _one time_ in my orbital-cycle and a half of being an Autobot."

The SIC's abnormally—even for him—stoic optics stared at me for a long time, then at last he said, "It only takes one mistake to earn discipline from a superior."

"It won't happen again, your royal Prowlness," I said sarcastically, giving him a mock salute. I probably shouldn't be disrespectful, but I really didn't give a slag; the mech was just making me mad with his open desire to put me in the brig for something that didn't matter.

More staring. Then Prowl turned and looked up at the Warden behind him. "This Warden is in need of cleaning and maintenance. So do the others. Due to protocol, we cannot shut down more than one Warden at a time. You are to clean this particular cannon, manually reactivate it, and manually shut down each of the other Wardens one at a time until you have cleaned them all. You will not leave this area until your task is complete. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand—you used small words so I didn't get confused. Thanks for that. Is that it?"

Prowl folded his servos behind his backplates. "Yes, it is. Contact me when you have concluded your assignment." He walked by me and entered the elevator, then disappeared down into the base. He didn't wait for me to acknowledge his last order.

Aft.

Pushing aside my anger toward Prowl before it could fester, I walked up to the Warden and began a preliminary inspection before I started working on it. The Warden's barrels were covered in a thin layer of grease, and when I manually rotated the barrels themselves, they proved slow and inconsistent in their rotation—they should have spun quickly and fluidly. Grime and debris had also gathered inside the ring below the Warden's base that allowed the weapon to spin pivot and shoot targets behind it, severely limiting its ability to aim. That would need to be cleaned out so the weapon was fully functional.

In all, time-consuming, but straightforward enough. I picked up a tool from the box and started working.

* * *

><p>"Come on, you stubborn piece of scrap," I mumbled to myself, trying to remove a fractured rivet from inside the Warden's base. I had found the damaged bolt while cleaning the base of the Warden's barrels, and immediately went to replace it. But whatever had caused the bolt to fracture—whether it be from wear and tear, a defect in the bolt itself, or simply had been installed incorrectly—had done a real number on it; it barely moved no matter what I did, and the fact it was located in an area I couldn't generation a lot of torque didn't help.<p>

Getting nowhere with the technique I was using, I stopped trying to turn the rivet with the wrench I had and adjusted my position inside the Warden's innards, moving to try going at the bolt from the bottom instead of the side. I had to flatten my wings against my backplates, but I managed to get underneath the barrels of the Warden and get a better angle on the rivet.

I reached up and placed the wrench around the offending bolt so the wrench's handle was parallel to my lying position. Then I started pulling down, my new position allowing me to use more of my strength along with my considerable weight to try turning the rivet.

At first, nothing happened. Then the rivet twisted a quarter of a rotation. Soon after that I was able to turn it without any resistance, and I quickly removed it from its housing.

"Now, what was making you so difficult?" I asked aloud to myself, turning the bolt over in my servo, ignoring the grease on the shaft of the rivet—I was already covered in grease and gun oil.

It looked like that the fracture had originated from the bottom of the shaft and worked its way up to the head, allowing it to be visible in the first place. The fracture was larger at the bottom of the shaft, splitting the metal and causing a small portion of the rivet to extend out beyond the width the fastener should have been. That would be what made this thing such a pain in the aft.

With the damaged rivet now removed at last, I opened a sub-space pocket to reach for the replacement rivet I grabbed from the supply box as soon as I saw the faulty rivet. I found the new fastener, screwed it into place, tightened it with the wrench, and made my out from beneath the barrels.

Once I was out, I placed the wrench down and tossed the rivet out of the Warden's innards to be dealt with later. Then I went back to cleaning the Warden's cannon barrels. But I hadn't cleaned much before I realized something curious.

I never heard the rivet hit the ground.

I started climbing up to the hole I used to enter the inside of the Warden. And when I reached it, I climbed out and looked down toward the ground.

Arcee was looking up at me from near the base of the turret, tossing the rivet I discarded up in the air and catching it casually. The look on her faceplate was suspiciously serious. "You dropped this."

I smiled down at my courted. "Why hello, pretty femme. I'd give you a proper greeting, but I'm in need of a long trip to the washracks." For emphasis, I flicked my wrist, sending numerous droplets of gun oil off my servo and down to the ground far from Arcee.

Arcee's serious look slipped for a moment, but she replaced it quickly. Did that mean I was in trouble? "No greeting is necessary. Not after earlier."

I rose an optic ridge. No greeting necessary? Since when were we formal with each other? "You sound like you're upset with me."

"Not upset. Confused."

"Okay. Why are you confused?" I asked, leaning against the edge of the Warden and ruining part of its camouflage with gun oil and grease. Probably will need to cle—nah, it'll be fine. Not like camouflage needs to be perfect, anyway.

"I think you know why."

"No, not really."

"About earlier, down in the ops center."

I sighed, already feeling this conversation was unnecessary and pointless. "Look, I know we haven't spent any time together yet, but we both have duti—"

"This isn't about that."

I gave her a confused look. "Then what's it about? Because that's all I'm coming up with."

"I'm talking about how you acted when I arrived—the way you dismissed my concerns and questions."

"_That's_ what you're mad about? I give you a _kiss_ after seeing you for the first time in more than a cycle, and you're upset with me? How does that even make sense?"

"When the kiss is accompanied by strange behavior on your part, which it was."

"Holy slag, that was a rhetorical question!"

"You're doing it again."

"Doing _what_ again?"

Arcee climbed up the base of the turret with alarming speed. On the last part of her trip upward, she leaped into the air, performing a full flip and half spin before gracefully landing on top of the barrels of the Warden, leaving us roughly the same height.

Well, that was attractive.

"You're acting strangely again," Arcee answered my previous question as she crossed her servos over chestplates and gave me a suspicious look.

I scoffed. "And just _how_ am I doing that?"

"You're being sarcastic with me, and are annoyed that I'm questioning your behavior."

"I'm always sarcastic with you."

"Not like this."

"Well, I wouldn't be if_ someone_ I knew hadn't come up here to bring up something that isn't worth talking about."

"And there's the annoyance."

"I'm not annoyed!"

"Then what would you call what you just said?"

"Being incredulous!"

"About what?"

"That you're still dwelling on our kiss from earlier! It's been breems!"

"Yes, it has. And I still can't make any sense of it."

"Look, what do you want me to say? That I'm sorry for _kissing_ you? Okay, I'll apologize: I'm sorry for expressing my love to you while others were around; I promise to never do it again. That make this better, now?"

Arcee leaned in closer so her optics were staring directly into mine. "No."

I sighed, the action letting me vent a little of the frustration that had built up in me during the course of our conversation; it felt like this whole discussion was redundant. "Then what do you want me to say?"

"It's not about what you _say_—it's how you _act_."

"And how am I acting?"

"I've said it twice already: strangely. You were behaving strangely the moment I returned to base, and you haven't stopped since." Despite the steely look on her faceplate, a noticeable amount of concern entered her optics. "Is there something wrong that you're not telling me about?"

So that's what all this has been about? She's concerned I'm not alright and aren't telling her? "Arcee, I'm fine."

"The way you're behaving and speaking is making me think otherwise."

"Why? Help me understand what is so bad about my behavior that you're picking fights about it."

Arcee looked at me like I had the stupidest thing in the universe. "Because of _that_. That right there! You're not acting like you. One klick you're kissing me in public and acting like you don't want to leave my side—the next you're out the door with barely a goodbye; one moment you're sarcastic and annoyed when I come up here to talk to you about your concerning behavior—the next you're perfectly fine acting like _I'm_ the one who was annoyed before. You're not acting like _you_, and it's like you're blind to it."

"Wait, I'm blind?" I brought my servo up in front of my faceplate. "But I can see my servo in my sudden blindness. How can that be?!"

No sound came from Arcee, and she was glaring at me when I lowered my servo to look at her. "I am being very serious about this."

"I know, which is why I tried making a joke to make you laugh; I don't like it when you're serious."

"This isn't the time for jokes."

"Apparently."

My courted let out a very slow, calming breath. "You're not you. Literally everything you're saying sounds wrong."

"Is it strange and wrong for me to want you to smile?"

"No, bu—"

"Then that proves my earlier claim of being fine is true, doesn't it?"

Arcee shook her helm. "No, it doesn't."

"Why not?"

"Because I can _feel_ there's something happening with you that I don't know about." She gave me a look that was sad, searching, and accusing all at once. "What are you not telling me, Shadow'?"

I pushed off from the edge of the entrance to the Warden's insides and checked my internal clock. I sighed when I saw how long I had been talking with Arcee. "Sorry to cut this short, but I need to get back to maintaining this cannon; I'm only halfway done, and Prowl wants me to perform maintenance on the other three, as well. After I'm done here and visit the washracks to wash off the slag I have on me, I'll ask Prowl or Optimus for some free time and I'll come find you so we can finish this conversation. I promise. Okay?"

Arcee's faceplate was an emotionless mask, but I could see the mixture of worry, anger, hurt, and frustration in her optics. "Fine. I'll be in the rec room unless I'm called for a mission. After you have permission from Optimus or Prowl, either come to me as soon as you're done in the washracks, or I'll find you." Without another word, she jumped off the Warden's barrels, landed in a crouch, and walked off to the elevator.

I blinked at her behavior, then shook my helm. Femmes are weird.

As Arcee entered the elevator, I reentered the turret and went back to work.

* * *

><p>The hot water ran over me, washing away all the dirt and gun oil that had managed to worm its way through my armor and down to my nanofiber framesuit and protoform. I found it impressive the filth from the turret managed to even get down past two layers of armor.<p>

It had taken me almost a breem to finish cleaning the Warden I had been working on when Arcee came up top, and it took more than four more breems to clean the other three. I had finished cleaning the anti-air cannons only a few klicks ago, and immediately made a beeline for the washracks—I couldn't present myself to Prowl or Arcee while caked in grease and grime.

The last of the sludge washed off my frame, and I began the process of putting my framesuit and armor back on. Once I was decent, I left the washracks and entered the hallway. A turn to the left would lead me to the rec room, and a right turn would lead me to most of the personal quarters, the elevator, and the ops center.

Turning right, I went to go to the ops center; Prowl would probably be there, and I had yet to ask for his permission to spend time with Arcee while still on duty. I couldn't ask Optimus because he and Ultra Magnus had left on a mission while I was up top.

I arrived in the ops center a short time later. Prowl was standing at the workstation, monitoring multiple missions at the same time, going by the main screen. No one else was in the room besides the teens on the Xbox.

I stepped up behind the SIC and voiced my address as a question, "Hey, Prowl?"

Prowl's helm turned half a foot toward me. "Are you reporting for your next assignment, Shadowstreaker?"

"No. I was kind of, maybe, asking for some free time?"

"You were given free time after you finished your shift on the space bridge. Giving you further recreational time after completing only one task since your last break would go against regulation, and prevent us from finishing all the tasks we set out to complete at the beginning of the cycle."

"Oh, come on! We've done tons of stuff in the last few cycles!"

"And those tasks were complete—the goals of the present cycle require just as much effort as those of the past."

"But you give Jazz extra breaks all the time."

"He is on active duty; you are suspended from the field. Those who see combat on a regular basis require greater amounts of recreational time than those who do not."

"And what if I'm part of the recreational time of one of those bots who's out fighting all the time? What if you're dampening their free time by not giving me a chance to be with her?"

There was a pause from Prowl. Then he fully looked at me over his shoulder-joint and asked, "Your request is tied to a desire of Field Commander Arcee's to spend time with you?"

I wasn't sure why he decided to use Arcee's rank in his question—he didn't use someone's rank unless it was written in a report or he was talking to them directly—but I nodded.

"Your request is granted." Then he looked back at the mainscreen, staring at it with the same intensity he had been directing at me all cycle.

"I—just like that?"

"If Field Commander Arcee wishes to use her free time with you, I cannot deny her request; there is no rule or law that allows an Autobot commander to dictate how a subordinate can spend their recreational time, baring they spend their allotted time breaking regulations. And fraternization is encouraged within the Autobots. Go, while the Field Commander still has a considerable amount of recreational time left before I send her on her next mission."

I didn't need to be told twice. I quickly turned around and headed back the way I came.

As I traveled down the hallway, the elevator caught my optic, and a sudden desire to go down to the Safe stopped me in my tracks. I really should have been continuing on to the rec room, but the thought of all the guns down in the armory—all the X-18 Scrapmakers, Thermo Missile and Riot Cannons, EMP Shotguns, and Photon Grenade Launchers—had me mentally drooling. So many guns to fire.

I shook my helm and continued down the hallway, but stopped again after just two steps. I hadn't really _practiced_ shooting in a long time. Between spending time with Arcee and our duties, I had been putting it off. That wasn't a good thing to do, was it? Neglect your combat skills. I was going to be on active duty soon enough, and when I was, it would be a shame if I was injured or worse because I hadn't shot a gun in a while…

Frag it. I'm going.

I stepped onto the elevator and pressed the button for the Safe. Sorry, Arcee, but you can wait while I shoot some targets.

The elevator reached the Safe, and I stepped out and walked towards the armory. No one was present in the Safe, and given how many missions Prowl was watching over, that wasn't surprising. More firing range for me.

I turned around the corner and paused in the armory entrance. The usual selection of weaponry was readily available on the left side of the room, but the right side was filled with strange-looking weapons I hadn't used or even seen before. Huh. Must be prototypes.

Shrugging off the sight of the odd weapons, I walked to the left side of the armory and selected what I wanted to use: one EMP Shotgun; one Neutron Assault Rifle; one Thermo Missile Cannon; one Photon Grenade Rifle; two X-18 Scrapmakers; and half a dozen ammo crates. Now, I was ready to shoot some targets.

Picking up the EMP Shotgun, I loaded the weapon and scanned for a good target. A fortified wall caught my optic, and I raised the Shotgun and fired both barrels at the same time.

The pellets slammed into the wall and tore open a massive hole, sending fragments of concrete flying in all directions. What remained of the wall collapsed in on itself a few micro-klicks later, kicking up sand in the air.

Chuckling at the results of the shot, I tossed the EMP Shotgun to the side and picked up the Neutron Assault Rifle. Once I had unloaded a full clip from the Assault Rifle into a target drone, I tossed the Rifle aside and picked up the Thermo Missile Cannon.

I kept the Missile Cannon for a while. First I destroyed some tank husks, then a few more walls, and even one of the buildings out on the range.

Eventually, I decided it was time to move on, and I picked up one of the Scrapmakers and loaded it. I went to scan for targets, but then I looked down at the second Scrapmaker sitting on the floor, tempting me.

It would be a waste to have brought two Scrapmakers over here and _not_ use both of them. But, considering how much recoil the X-18 had, a bot typically only used two Scrapmakers when they were in their alt mode—it negated the recoil. If a bot wasn't in their alt mode, then they weren't allowed to use two X-18s until they underwent a short training program that taught them how to adequately deal with the recoil. I hadn't gone through that program, which meant I would be going against regulations if I used both X-18s right now.

… Since when did I give a frag about _regulations?_

Without wasting any more time debating about it, I placed the first Scrapmaker down to load the second one, and then picked up both at the same time, now bringing a total of twelve gun barrels to bear. This should be fun.

I scanned the range for a target worthy of the destructive power I was about to unleash. The target drones were too boring to shoot, and there weren't enough tanks to be able to go all out with the Scrapmakers. That left buildings. I had the options of shooting mock-ups of bunkers, watchtowers, or the one large building out on the range—the one I had destroyed shortly after I became a Cybertronian.

The large one, it is.

I aimed the Scrapmakers at the building and started spooling them up, the twelve barrels of the two weapons combined creating a loud scraping sound as they spun in their housings.

Despite myself, I couldn't help but yell, "Say hello to my little friends!" Then I fired.

Even combined, the X-18 Scrapmakers only fired at less than half the rate of fire my Ion Displacer did—about three-thousand rounds per klick. But they fired larger, denser rounds of energy, and the result was almost the same.

The walls of the building were shredded apart like paper, support beams were torn into pieces, and whole sections of the structure fell down. At last, the main supports of the building gave out, and the entire building fell in on itself with a deafening crash of concrete and Steel. The middle of the weapons range became one giant cloud of sand, blocking the view of the back wall.

I laughed loudly as the building fell, the sound drowned out by the Scrapmakers until they clicked empty. I need to destroy stuff more often—that was _fun_.

"Shooting guns instead of speaking with Arcee as you said you would… I'm genuinely disappointed in you."

I jumped at the sound of the familiar voice and whipped around, barely noticing how I felt my bonds open.

There, standing at the entrance to the armory, stood my creators. And neither of them looked pleased; even the bonds I shared with them were abnormally blank.

What the _hell_ were they doing here, as in _physically_ here? What the actual frag?!

I dropped the Scrapmakers and opened my servos wide in greeting. "It's great to see you! I can't believe you're here!"

My excitement, it seemed, wasn't shared by either Solus or Megatronus; their faceplates and bonds remained unchanged.

"We have a limited amount of time," Solus said bluntly, suppressed emotion evident in her tone and the flicker I felt from her end of our bond. "We'll be straight to the point: stop pretending."

I blinked at her, optic rides lowering in confusion. Huh? "What are you talking about?"

"Your behavior," said Megatronus, sounding more serious than I had ever heard him be. "Stop, evaluate what you've done and how you've behaved in the last cycle, and consider if it really has been normal for you."

Wait, now my _creators_ were getting on the 'Are you alright?' train? Are you kidding me? Out of everyone in the universe, two of the _Thirteen_ should know better to side with Arcee and the others. "Like I've told literally _everyone_ who has said something about my behavior, I'm _fine_. I find it stupid of you to even bother leaving the Pocket Universe to tell me to change my _behavior_, of all things."

In a movement my optics couldn't follow, Megatronus' staff spun around his servo and whacked me in the back of the helm hard enough that the resulting clang it created echoed around the Safe.

Well, slag. That _hurt_.

"Your own statement proves that you aren't," Solus said without so much as a flinch, though I caught a trace of emotions that told me she didn't like what just happened. "Think, use your processor. If you're fine, why are you so dismissive of the opinions of everyone else; up until this cycle, you haven't dismissed someone's opinion outright without explaining how their opinion was incorrect. And if nothing's wrong, why are you at times ignoring what others are telling you or asking you? Why are you avoiding conversation with Arcee?"

"I'm not avoiding her."

"Then why are you down here instead of talking to her like you promised her?"

"Because I came down here."

"Why?"

"... Because I wanted to?"

"And why did you want to do that? Where did that sudden desire come from?" Challenged Solus.

I shrugged. "I guess I just wanted to shoot guns again—I've been on a break."

"You would rather spend time surrounded by instruments of war than be with your courted—the one you yourself have thought of as 'Your spark'? You don't find that unusual for you?"

"Well… I just wanted to sho—"

"When did you start to value weapons over _her_?" Megatronus interrupted.

Whoa, that wasn't right. "I don't value guns more than I value Arcee. That's ridiculous!"

"Then why are you down here instead of up there with her?" Solus repeated. "Why have you found it perfectly acceptable to ignore her questions and abruptly end two discussions with her this cycle, and then blow off even _showing up _to a third?"

Suddenly, my carrier's words started to hit me with hammer blows, force me to back up. I didn't want to ignore Arcee _or _end conversations with her. I didn't. I loved her more than I could express—any conversation between us was something I loved. Why _had_ I found some reason to walk away from her or find that I was too busy to talk? Why had I decided to not only come down here, but not even invite Arcee to join me so we could talk? Wh—

I'm fine.

I shook my helm to clear my thoughts, then asked, "Sorry, I think I spaced out. What were you saying?"

Solus' faceplate fell. Her optics were searching mine desperately, like she was looking for something. My bond with her mirrored the emotions on her faceplate, only much more intensely; never before had I felt such strong emotions come from her end of our bond. It felt like a tidal wave crashing down on me, and that was just from her—the bond I had with Megatronus was sending me similar emotions.

A cobalt portal opened behind my creators, and Megatronus sighed heavily as soon as it appeared. He placed a servo on Solus' shoulder-joint. "We're out of time."

Solus shook off Megatronus' servo, bond flaring. "We still have some time, and we haven't convinced him yet. We can't leave him like this—we can't. We ne—"

Megatronus' servo landed on her shoulder-joint again, but his grip was more gentle than before. In a calm, soft tone, he said, "Sol', we need to go."

Conflicting emotions whirled from Solus' end of my bond with her, but a grim acceptance was more apparent than others. She nodded grimly, looked up at me with that same desperate, searching look from before; regret flowed from her freely.

She kept that look on her faceplate as Megatronus guided her backwards toward the portal. They entered, and then it disappeared. My bonds with them slammed shut immediately after.

Now, what had that been about?

"_Shadow'," _Arcee suddenly said through a comm-link she established. She sounded far from happy.

"_Hey, Arcee. What's up?"_

"'_What's up?' You stand me up and act like everything's _okay_?"_

"_Arcee, listen. I—"_

"_No. You don't get to talk right now. Prowl told me you came to him and got time of your duties so you could come talk to me, and you never showed up. The only reason I'm even talking to you right now is because I'm being called on a mission earlier than expected. But when I get back, you can avoid me, hide from me, and pretend to be busy, but in the end I _will_ find you, and we _will_ be talking about this."_ The link was closed from her end.

I was left standing in the Safe, puzzlement written on my faceplate. Why was she so mad at me?

A metallic glint caught my optic, and I looked down to see several weapons lying on the Safe floor.

Huh. When were these taken from the armory?

* * *

><p>I fiddled with the metal leaves of the artificial flower I had been making, humming a little tune to myself as I examined each leaf for issues that would ruin the flower's appearance—imperfections would not be tolerated.<p>

After Arcee had gotten angry with me, I had put the weapons I found on the floor back into the armory and returned to my duties. I spent the next few breems clearing out storage hangers, checking energon levels for the base storage area, cleaning equipment that needed maintenance, and melting down scrap metal we didn't need.

Although I didn't know why, I had also been on the receiving end of some strange reactions and statements from other 'Bots: an offended look from Ironhide when I tossed a weapon on top of a crate instead of placing it; an exclamation of surprise and a question if I was feeling well when I told Jazz that we should prank Prowl; a long stare from Jetfire just for making Springer bobble his cube of energon; angry glares from the twins when I asked if they wanted to go down to the combat simulator and see how long the three of us could last; and being flat out _ignored_ when I tried to talk to Air Raid and Smokescreen. I mean really, why would they ignore me?

Oh, well. I didn't care about what others thought of me, anyway.

I found a tiny dent in the metal of one of the leaves. I carefully pulled it off and quickly searched for another piece of metal to make a leaf out of. That was the fourth version of leaves I tried making, and each one had something wrong with it. It seemed like no matter what I did, there was always a problem with the flower; I finally had the stem and petals perfect, but the leaves were never right. It was very frustrating to have to redo one part of the flower so many times.

But I had to keep trying. I had to make it beautiful and perfect—just like Arcee was.

"_I'm back," _Arcee said through a comm-link. _"Tell me where you are, or I'll start hunting."_

"_I'm in my quarters. Welc—"_

The link was cut before I finish speaking. Nice to talk to you too, Arcee.

A short time later, three hard knocks came from the door. She was here.

I quickly put the unfinished flower out of sight, hiding it and the Supply box behind my workbench. Then I unlocked the door and returned to my seat, trying to look like I had only been cleaning the parts scattered in front of me.

"It's open," I said, and too late I noticed I had left the box of discarded versions of my flower out in plain sight. Scrap.

Before I could put the discarded flowers out of sight, the door slid open, and Arcee came into the room like a force of nature. Her were optics cold, and her faceplate was set in anger. Uh-oh.

"Why, Shadow'?" She asked, coming to stand about sixty feet away. "Why did you break your promise to me? Why have you been acting so strange all cycle? What is going on?"

"I just want—"

"_No_. I don't want to hear _one_ more excuse from your mouth. Not _one_ _more_." She crossed her servos, openly glaring with more anger directed at me than she had used in a long time. "No more avoiding me, no more dismissing me, and no more running away. You are going to be honest with me, and you _are_ going to tell me everything. Now, what is wrong with you?"

I was silent for a while, stunned into it by her outburst. Then, I finally said, "Arcee, I'm fi—"

"Stop lying to me, Shadow'. I know when you're lying to me."

"But I am! I'm_ fine_!"

"Then why have you been avoiding me? Why did you decide not to come to the rec room? Why ar—" She caught sight of the box of discarded flowers, and gave them her full attention. Oh, slag.

Slowly—ever so slowly—the anger left Arcee's faceplate. But it was replaced by things I hadn't expected to see when she saw my failed attempts at making a flower: confusion and uncertainty.

"What are these?" She asked at last, her voice lacking the anger it had been filled with a few moments ago.

"Those are my prototypes."

"Prototypes for what?"

Knowing I couldn't continue to keep the flower a secret without upsetting her again, I reached into the hidden Supply box and pulled out the version I had been working on before she arrived. "Prototypes for this. I was making it for you."

Arcee's faceplate went completely blank when she looked at the metal flower; and when she spoke, it sounded like she had locked any trace of emotion deep into her processor, "What is that?"

I blinked in confusion and looked at the flower, then back at her. What, has she never seen a flower before? "It's supposed to be a flower. I get that it isn't done yet, but is it really that hard to tell what it is?"

Arcee didn't answer. She continued staring at the flower for another long moment, then finally looked at me with optics that were completely devoid of emotion. "Shadow', how long have we been together?"

That was a random question. "A jour. Why?"

"And what led to us getting together?"

"I was gone, and we couldn't live without each other. We were both lost, broken. Every moment we were apart hurt us."

A hint of emotion entered her optics, then disappeared just as quickly. "And why were you gone?"

"Um, are you seriously asking me this, or are you thinking out loud?"

"Answer the question."

I sighed, not liking to bring up the unpleasant memory. "Because we got into an argument. Insults were exchanged, things were said we couldn't take back. Flightstorm and Cyberfrost's ship was in the system, so I left to join them. We floated around for a few mega-cycles, but I found I couldn't stop thinking about you no matter what I did. So, I convinced the captain to bring me back to Earth, and upon my return I discovered you couldn't get me off your processor, either. Then we got together." I paused, thinking. "Huh. Guess I gave a better answer to your last question, too."

If it was possible, Arcee's faceplate became even more blank. "That was the reason why you were gone?"

"Last I recall, yeah."

"You weren't taken by the Paraions so Extremis could use you?"

"Who?"

Arcee went silent for several long micro-klicks. "Shadow'... Why are you suspended from active duty?"

"Well, I _did_ kind of go AWOL when I joined the Apex Sentinel. That probably had something to do with it."

"It had nothing do with how you deliberately activated your Quriomus Protocol on the Hammer?"

I tilted my helm in puzzlement. "What does a hammer have to do with this conversation? And the what protocol? Qur—whatever? What's that?"

An entire klick of dead silence followed my question, all the while Arcee stared at me blankly.

At last, Arcee broke the silence tonelessly, "I need to go." She turned around and left the room, locking the door behind her.

I stared at where Arcee had last been, more confused than ever. First she walks in like she's about to rain fire and brimstone down on me, then she doesn't recognize a flower when she sees one, then she asks a bunch of random questions she already knows the answers to, and _then_ she just walks out like our conversation wasn't even important to her. She hadn't even given me a reason for why she had to leave.

Femmes are _weird_.

I shook my helm and placed the unfinished flower down on the workbench and reached down to bring the Supply box out of hiding. If she was just going to leave, I might as well finish this before she gets back. _If_ she comes back.

As I reached for the Supply box, I paused when I saw a distorted reflection in a flat piece of metal in the box.

A reflection of a _very_ dark shape near my desk on the opposite side of the room.

I sat up straight, and then turned toward the shape.

The darkest mech I had ever seen was leaning against my desk, staring at me with crimson optics that spoke of pain and suffering and sick joy. Other than the black steam rising off his frame and how his armor was so dark it made mine look white, he looked exactly like me.

"Who are you?" I asked warily, getting up to my pedes and standing in a defensive stance. Everything about him felt _wrong_, and his appearance was unnerving to me.

The mech tilted his helm to the side in _exactly_ the same way I did when I looked at someone incredulously; however, his optics still burned like crimson flames. _**"Oh now, Zechariah—you know **_**exactly**_** who I am."**_

In a rush of memories, it all came back: the Paraions' capture of me; refusing to help Extremis; the Hammer; believing Arcee was offline; the Quriomus Protocol; my usual self. All of it. And it _hurt_.

I fell to the side like I had been shot, optics shut tightly as I clinched my helm in a vain attempt to lessen the pain. I collapsed on the edge of the Trash box with all my failed flowers in it, sending them up in the air and all over the floor. I partially opened my optics as one flower fell on me, then snapped them fully open when I saw that what was in front of me was no metal flower.

It was an almost perfect replica of a Cortical psychic patch. They _all_ were.

Laughter. Insane laughter. Memories being pulled from my helm. Pain.

I shook the flashes away and stumbled to my pedes, crushing any psychic patch replica I saw with extreme prejudice. I saw that what I thought had been my closest attempt to a metal flower for Arcee, was actually a psychic patch that had even more detail than the other replicas.

I punched that particular replica so hard I put a hole through my workbench.

I turned and glared at the mech, shaking my helm repeatedly to push away memories that had been suppressed. "What did you do to me?"

He pushed himself off my desk, and instantly the memories and feelings and _guilt_ started weighing me down. I fell to my knee-joints, audio receptors buzzing loudly. No matter how much I pushed the memories and guilt away, and shook my helm to get rid of the buzzing, they just kept coming back stronger than ever.

"_**I told you I would break you like a little toy. And I did."**_ The mech crouched down in front of me, faceplate only a few feet away. His burning optics looked almost _bored_. _**"I must say, you broke much easier than I expected from you, Xel'Tor. A little guilt here, a little beating there, and you're done. I find it unnerving someone of your position can be broken so easily."**_

I tried to muster the strength to punch the mech, push him away, _anything_. But I couldn't—my strength was rapidly leaving me.

"_**Yes. Yes it is. And it will keep leaving you."**_

I fell completely to the floor, looking up at the mech. I… Wasn't... Done.

"_**No, I'm afraid you are. Your strength hasn't been serving you well, has it?"**_

Failures. Comrades getting hurt. Nearly losing Arcee.

"_**In fact, I don't think **_**anything**_** you have has been serving you well."**_

Friends walking out of the room when I enter. Same bots ignoring me, furious with me. Alone.

The mech loomed down closer to me, hovering. _**"You know, I think it's a good thing I'm around." **_

Cold. Cold. Cold. Cold.

"_**After all, without me, you would be running around, free to do as wish. We can't have that, with your added strengths as Xel'Tor. We've both seen how it's gone with just you being you."**_

Endless rage. Slaughter of all things that move. Innocent lives snuffed out.

"_**I guess I need to stick around for a while, make **_**real**_** sure **_**you're**_** not the one running around free with the Xel'Tor's abilities."**_ His distorted laughter echoed around the room, and reverberated _inside_ my helm. _**"I'll just keep hanging onto those."**_

I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine.

I'm fine…

* * *

><p>Arcee stormed down the hallway, each step taking her closer to where she had last seen Prowl in the ops center. She wanted to talk to Optimus or Magnus about this, but with them on another mission together, she had to settle for talking to Prowl.<p>

Her processor was whirling with the implications of what she had seen in Shadow's quarters. Cortical psychic patches. Shadow' _hated_ those patches, had since he came back; he barely mentioned them when she tried to get him to open up more about the Hammer. And not only was his room filled with the damned things, he thought the _Cortical psychic patches_ were _flowers_. He had denied he had a Quriomus Protocol, acted like he had never heard of the Paraions, and been confused when she asked about the Hammer.

And she could see that he had been _genuine_ in everything he said. Arcee knew there had been something wrong with her courted as soon as he kissed her, but she never thought it would be be _this_ bad.

She reached the ops center. Raf was operating the space bridge from his computers, while Miko and Jack kept playing their latest game obsession. Prowl was nowhere in sight.

"_Arcee to Prowl—where are you?"_

"_The med-bay."_

Arcee turned on her heel and went back the way she came.

She reached the med-bay a few moments later. The door opened for her, and she stepped in. Inside the med-bay, Prowl stood behind Moonracer as she worked at the workstation, staring at a blurry screen. Another group of bots surrounded the two. The group consisted of: Jetfire; Springer; Jazz; and Arcee's sisters and brother-in-bond. The three remaining Autobots who had yet to recover from the underwater rescue mission were on the berths closest to the workstation, with Ratchet lying as close as he could get.

Arcee paused at the sight of the group. She knew Ironhide and her sisters were here because of the bonds they shared, but the others were a surprise. "What's going on here?"

"We' waitin'," Jazz said, flipping a medical tool around in his servo with a bored expression on his faceplate.

"On what?"

"Answers," said Prowl.

Arcee didn't comment on the SIC's answer, and walked further into the med-bay, stepping up next to Prowl. "It's going to have to wait. We have a problem."

The SIC glanced at Arcee. "What type of problem do we have?"

"There's something wrong with Shadowstreaker."

Prowl looked back at the screen. "I know this already."

Arcee blinked, slightly surprised. Then she looked at her sisters and brother, feeling guilt from come their ends of their bonds. "You know?"

"I was with Shadowstreaker when he tossed a Plasma Chaingun off to the side like it was a piece of trash," Ironhide said. "That's a rare gun, valued for its craftsmanship and its quality. Kid knows his guns and has his own Chaingun—he wouldn't do that unless something was up."

"Ironhide shared the memory with me, and I agree," said Chromia. "I had to restrain myself from chasing and hitting Shadowstreaker for doing that to such a great weapon, but I'm here. But your mech's still in trouble with me. Just letting you know."

"I came to the conclusion Shadowstreaker has not been totally himself from my own, independent observation," Elita said.

"Why didn't you say anything to me?" Arcee asked.

"You were on your mission when the three of us began to notice something strange in Shadowstreaker; we could not distract you. A distracted Autobot—"

"—Is an offline Autobot," finished Arcee, silently understanding why her siblings had not come forward before. She looked at Jetfire and Jazz, already knowing why Springer suspected something.

Jazz shrugged. "He said ta me dat we should prank Prowler. Da Shadowster' doesn' _do_ dat. Ah knew somethin' had ta be up as soon as he said dat."

"Youngling was as normal as ever last cycle—well, as normal as he's been since he got back," said Jetfire. "Then this cycle he's off the walls and acting _almost_ as immature as the twins. Doesn't take a genius to see he's not as okay as he seems."

"And you all just_ decided_ to crowd into the med-bay to talk about my courted?" Arcee asked.

The only response Arcee received to her question was for everyone's optics to flick to Prowl.

The blue and pink femme followed their example, giving the SIC a hard, questioning look.

Without taking his optics off the screen, Prowl said, "Late last cycle, I found Shadowstreaker standing in the reactor room. He was not moving—he was only standing in the middle of the room, motionless."

Arcee was surprised to hear that, simply due to how secure the reactor room was. "How did he get in there?"

"When I asked, Shadowstreaker provided no solid answer and dismissed me when I pointed out flaws in his statement. He mainly attributed his presence inside the reactor room to the fact the security door would not close and lock, which it would not. But when Shadowstreaker had left, I found the door functioned perfectly. I need to know why."

Prowl's words added to the questions floating around in Arcee's processor. What was going on with her Shadow'? "So when the others approached you with their own concerns…"

"I directed them here," Prowl finished. "What Moonracer is working on is our best chance to find answers."

"What is it?"

"Security camera footage," Moonracer answered in Prowl's place, paying attention only to the keys she was hitting as she typed commands into the med-bay computer. "Prowl came to me last night and asked me to pull footage from cameras we have overlooking the reactor room."

"We have cameras there?"

"Yes, but I can't get anything from them—their footage has been corrupted."

"We've been working on clearing it up," Ratchet added.

"No. _I've_ been working_; you've_ been giving advice as you've been lying on your medical berth, just as you should be."

Ratchet just muttered something unintelligible.

No one said anything after that for a long time. And Arcee was grateful for that—she wanted some time to calm her CPU and the worry her spark was sending her. She didn't like the fact there had been something wrong with Shadow' for an entire cycle and she didn't know; and even if she had known, she still wouldn't have been able to help him until this cycle. She felt like she had failed in some way.

Her sisters and brother-in-spark sent her waves of comfort through her bonds with them, and she returned their action by sending gratitude.

"I got it," Moonracer finally reported, and the screen cleared up and showed the stopped footage from several different security cameras. Her voice sounded relieved.

"Play it," Prowl ordered.

Moonracer hit play, and the recordings started to roll.

At first, the footage only consisted of the empty hallways and closed doors. Then Shadowstreaker entered the frame of one of the cameras. He was walking down the last section of hallway leading to the both the reactor room an open storage hanger; Arcee assumed Shadow' had been working on clearing it out.

For no apparent reason, Shadow' stopped walking and began looking up at the lights, optics narrowed. He looked up and down the hallway in confusion and suspicion, as if seeing a problem no one else could. He was clearly agitated.

Then his faceplate abruptly went blank—completely and totally blank. He stopped looking around the hallway and straightened out, staring ahead with lifeless optics.

He stepped forward with absolutely perfect posture, each step exactly as long as the other. He walked in the dead center of the hallway, no closer to one wall than the other.

He reached the corner, turned with machine-like precision, and continued walking toward the reactor room door. As he approached the door, faint, deep emerald green bolts of light began to appear on his right servo. At first, they were only sparking between his digits, but they spread and soon covered his servo all the way up to his shoulder-joint.

Just as he was about to walk into the door, he raised his sparking servo. A bolt of the emerald light shot out and hit the control panel, and it too was enveloped by the light. The numbers on the panel went haywire, lighting up wildly until the correct combination had been found. Then the light on the panel turned green, and the door slid open.

And without having to break stride, Shadow' stepped into the reactor room. He paused once he was inside, stood still for a moment, and then very slowly turned his helm toward the camera overlooking the reactor room door.

Instead of royal cobalt, his optics were crimson.

All three cameras flickered, and in the very next shot Shadow' was standing below the camera he looked at before, staring up directly into the lens. His optics carried a very unnerving, very _dark_ look in them.

His servo flashed with emerald light again, and the footage became static.

The room was as silent as a grave. Most didn't know what to say, and those that did couldn't stop their CPUs from spinning from what they all witnessed in the recordings. They had not known what to expect to see when Moonracer finally managed to clear up the security footage, but none of them had expected _that_.

Arcee was right with them in that regard, but she had an additional thought, while Prowl contacted Optimus and Ultra Magnus and Moonracer rewinded the footage to the last frame before it became static.

Whoever they were looking at in the footage wasn't her Shadow'.

* * *

><p><strong>... I've said the same thing twice before at the end of a chapter. No more.<strong>

**I know some of you may notice that the style of writing for most of this chapter seemed rushed and not consistent with how I've written recently, but the style was intentionally done to show that Shadowstreaker wasn't exactly alright in the head.**

**IMPORTANT NOTE BEGINS HERE:**

**Okay, so a few of you know what I'm about to say already, most of you don't. It doesn't matter if you know or not, because you're going to know now. Here goes.**

**Since I started writing on here more than three years ago, this story has been at the forefront of my mind each and every day. People tell me to take a break, but my idea of a break is to work on this. No other project I have makes me want to come back to it as much as Fate Calls does - nothing I've written comes close to its quality and depth (I say that last thing simply because I'm the writer, and I know the history of everything in this story). Everything else I work on is quite simply overshadowed by this story.**

**But there's a dark side to that.**

**With how much time I put into this story (I don't keep track, but it most certainly is 100+ hours per chapter), with how much of myself I put into writing the emotions, plots, characters, and scenes (at least since chapter 30 or so), I expect to see how that effort pays off. I expect to see reactions to plots coming into play, how existing subplots develop, the situations characters are placed in, ect. This has been true since I began this story: I like to see what people say about it, particularly in reviews. When I get a lot of reviews on one chapter, to me that means I did something right, and I should keep doing it. When I get a large drop off in reviews, to me that means I did something wrong - something that turns readers away and that they won't be coming back.**

**I believe this habit has been born from the combination of low confidence in my own abilities, and a very strong desire to make something to the utmost of my skills; I'm like that with everything I do. For a while, I thought I had been able to finally shrug it off, but it's come back. _Hard_.**

**And it doesn't help that I am a numbers kind of guy - I love stats of all kinds. So when I see nearly 500 people come in and view something _the same day_ I updated, and only one person has given a review, it feels like I've been kicked in the gut. I know it's not right to feel that way, but the fact is I do. I've never minded getting criticism, or a short review, or a comment that is about something minor. Because, in their own ways, those reviews show the reviewer is enjoying the story, or cares about it enough that they want it to improve. And y****eah, the long, detailed reviews saying what someone liked or didn't like are fantastic and I absolutely love reading them; but to me they don't overshadow the other reviews or feedback I receive. The only reviews I don't like are flames, and even then it's purely because the reviewer isn't being helpful or offering advice as they attack what I've written.**

**Now before you start thinking I'm not grateful for the reviews I get, don't. I _love_ the reviews I get; the people who leave them are _awesome_, and I am so thankful I have readers who are enjoying this story as much as I am. This entire note is for more than the people who usually review (they're exempt), this is to those who don't for a number of reasons: Don't know what to say; don't like reviewing; don't want to be mean; find it unnecessary to review when others who have said what they were going to. This note is made for them.**

**And the point of it is to let everyone know exactly how it affects me. To me, silence is worse than dealing with dozens flamers at the same time. To me, silence means I may as well stop.**

**I know this habit is harmful to me, and counterproductive to all my work. Believe me when I say I wish I didn't have it. But it's just how I am, how I've been for as long as I can remember. I've gotten very good pushing it aside, but it still bubbles up every now and then, as my best friends know very well. But now, I've gotten to the point that it's bad for my health.**

**Don't take that the wrong way! I am not going to stop working on this story until it's done. I promise that. But I can't sit here and claim I'm being honest without admitting I've considered just stopping, or continuing to write and only share it with the people who I know read it each and every time. I have gone through that a few times. I wanted this note to be a frank statement on my part, no sugar-coating anything when it came to saying how this all makes me as a low confidence, numbers-oriented person. I owed you all that much.**

**Now, I think I have it all out. Thank you for reading this. Be blessed.**

**IMPORTANT NOTE ENDS HERE:**

**Since I have finished this chapter, the next thing I will be working on with Fate Calls is the start of rewriting chapters 1-20. And perhaps further. I've been saying for a year that I'm going to rewrite the really, _really_ bad material I wrote in the beginning of my short writing career, and I think the only way that's going to end up happening is if I just start doing it. So that's next up. But don't worry, I will be writing a new chapter at the same time, too.**

**This chapter's credit song is "Evgeny Emelyanov - Actaeon" This song starts off with a relaxing quality, then it builds to a feeling of a slightly dark unknown, which in turn builds into a dark, intimidating rhythm that fits nicely for the end of this chapter.**

**Well, time to call it a chapter. Please do take some time to leave a review or send a PM.**

**Thank you all for reading, and I hope you all are doing great. :)**

**See you soon.**


	43. Broken

**I managed to get this done by the end of the month. Honestly, I'm shocked by that - I had about 4,000 words of material when the 1st rolled around.**

**I have little to say up here besides that there is going to be another IMPORTANT NOTE at the bottom. It is not covering the same topic as the one last chapter, but it is nevertheless very important.**

**I thank those who reviewed in the time of the last chapter profusely. I means so much to me that so many of you took the time to read my lengthy note and address what it said, and in general just reviewed. Seriously, thank you all.**

**And please, don't quit on me. You'll understand.**

**Gabby M - I am glad you like it so far. And I also hope you've stuck around with it all the way from where you were to where we are now. There's a lot of material to read.**

**Thanks for the review.**

**anubis (Reply to Chapter 18) - I assure you I did not. Though there is debate about whether my way was worse.**

**(Reply to Chapter 19) - Hmm. That's a pretty good one. I will remember that.**

**Thank you for both of your reviews.**

**The Silent One - You are welcome. I hope you enjoy this update, as well.**

**Guest 1 (Chapter 27) - 1: I found the story of Rise of the Dark Spark to be almost comically bad. It introduced an object purely to make a game related to it, and yet didn't properly explain anything about it beyond it was the bad version of the Matrix of Leadership. That's not storytelling; it's a cash grab.**

**2: Any writer that has any interest in telling their own story is not going to throw away all their plans in order to fit with the desires of a single reader. That's the blunt truth. I am not going to toss out everything I've set up to randomly put in a plot line that doesn't fit.**

**And 3: What you are asking for isn't even the Rise of the Dark Spark story. You want a story you've already made up in your head. If you want to write the story, go head and do that. But I (and my story and characters) are not going to be involved in it.**

**Thank you for the review, and I am sorry that I'm not going to be of help in writing the story you've come up with.**

**Guest 2 (Chapter 27) - I am going to say this once and only once: No.**

**For one, you are arrogant in believing that your taste in music fits better with the chapter. I tried listening to the song you listed in your review, and I found it both unappealing and not fitting with the either ending of the chapter (there's a reason why they are called Credit Songs; the only ones that I consider Themes for the chapter are the ones I mention as fitting more than the ending).**

**And for another, being rude to the author doesn't gain you any points or credit in the decision-making process of credit songs. It makes you look foolish, in fact. Being honest.**

**Good day.**

**Thanks go to Crystal Prime for beta reading.**

**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to Hasbro. I only take credit for this story and my OCs.**

* * *

><p><strong>August 10, 8:33 P.M<strong>

**Autobot base, outside Jasper, Nevada**

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

The flower sitting on my workbench fell apart, jostling me into action. I reached out and reformed the flower, reattaching the petals to the stem. Why had I been clumsy enough to drop the flower in the first place? It was supposed to be perfect and beautiful—just like Arcee; I shouldn't have handled it so carelessly.

My servo bumped into one of the petals, and it fell through one of several holes in my workbench and down to the floor. I reached down and picked the flower up, shaking my head in amusement that I had to reach _through_ the workbench to do it. Why did I think these holes would be helpful in the first place? They had no purpose, and they made it difficult to store things on the workbench. What had I been doing, thinking these would be useful? Silly me!

A light hanging above my workbench suddenly went out and fell to the floor, its power line snapped. I _knew _should have fixed that thing! Always hanging around, never staying on. There aren't any other working lights on this side of the room, and the other side of the room would make it too bright for me if I adjusted my optics. Now I have no way to work over here. That won't do!

I took a piece of metal next to me and used it as a mirror, deflecting light from the other side of the room to be focused on the flower in front of me. Much better.

I finished reassembling the flower, being _extra_ careful not to jostle it too much. It wouldn't be good to make it fall apart again—then I'd have to put it together again! That'd be frustrating. I'd probably hit something I'd be so annoyed!

Once the flower hadn't fallen apart again, I went back to my deep thoughts.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

A sound—more like a faint vibration—came from the floor. It had been so quiet that I barely heard it. I didn't know what it meant, but something was telling me the vibration had been from the space bridge. Maybe Arcee was finally back from her mission. If she was, then I could give her the flower I made for her! That would be nice.

Warnings and deafened shouts echoed around in my helm, screaming at me that nothing about how I was feeling now was real. That Arcee had returned from her mission already and left my quarters. That I needed to fight against something—that no matter how I felt, I was _not_ fine.

"_**That's a lie,"**_ said the dark mech at my side, presence cooling the very air.

That was a lie.

"_**You're fine."**_

I'm fine.

"_**You need to stand up."**_

I stood up.

"_**You need to leave your quarters—something in Storage Hanger Echo-3 needs your attention."**_

I just remembered, I have that… Thing in Storage Hanger Echo-3! I should get over there. Urgently, I walked to the door, stepping around bits of shelving, souvenirs, and lighting spread out around the floor. I should really fix all that. It's a mess in here!

I unlocked the door, then started moving down the hallway. A freezing feeling entered my helm as I walked, numbing my CPU and making it hard to process anything. I continued down the hallway at a steady pace, despite how my processor wasn't working properly. It was then I realized I wasn't even telling my pedes to move—they just did seemingly on their own. The same thing happened to my servos.

A voice in part of my CPU—a very, _very_ small part—was telling me I should be very worried I wasn't controlling my own frame. It was saying I needed to stop ignoring what was right in front of me and _act_.

The voice was shoved aside mercilessly, and I heard a distorted version of my own voice echo around the hallway to a line of an unfamiliar song.

"_**Light breaks, Good shakes**_

_**When the Night Awakes."**_

* * *

><p>Arcee flexed her servos as the space bridge opened, emitting sounds of battle from it as Ultra Magnus and Optimus returned to base, Omni Saber in the Prime's servo still glowing and crackling with dark red energy. They both appeared moderately damaged, but nothing their auto-repair systems wouldn't handle by themselves.<p>

She was impatient to move, to get to Shadow' and fix whatever was wrong with him. Her emotions were demanding she run back to his quarters, now that Optimus and Magnus were there with them. But her logic—and her sisters—told her she couldn't do that yet. Prime and Ultra Magnus needed to be informed of the situation before she acted. With someone or some_thing_ controlling Shadow', they needed to act as a group.

That didn't keep her from wanting to virtually _sprint_ back to Shadow's quarters and start breaking things until she had answers.

"Your message said it was urgent," Optimus said, placing the Omni Saber on his backplates.

"Seems Flightstorm and Cyberfrost were wrong about the kid's Protocol," answered Ironhide, servos crossed, Cannons nearly touching one another. "It's been activating on its own. And we have footage that proves it."

Arcee frowned at the tone used by her brother-in-bond. As soon as they had seen the footage of Shadow' in the hallway last night, the emotions she had been getting from him were blunt, grim, and angry. He may have hidden it from her, but Arcee knew Ironhide had been watching Shadow' closely in the last jour, silently testing him. In his optics, the camera footage showed Shadow' failing his test. Arcee disagreed. She sent the appropriate emotions to him through their bond.

Ironhide scoffed and looked at her. "Don't you give me that. I've had no problems with Shadowstreaker up until now."

"No, but you're so convinced he did something terrible that you're ignoring anything I say that doesn't fit with what you think."

"You're in a relationship with the kid—ya have a biased viewpoint. Love like yours will do stuff to your helm."

"I'm not some love-struck youngling, Ironhide," Arcee said, biting back the fouler words she wanted to use for that comment. "You've known that since he and I started courting. When I say you're wrong, it's because you are. Not because I'm defending Shadow' out of blind emotion."

"Enough," Optimus cut in, quickly bringing an end to her argument with Ironhide. The Prime looked at Prowl. "What has happened?"

The SIC explained the unusual behavior they had all witnessed in Shadow'—and the security footage—in his usual, to the point fashion. Without wasting words, he also managed to fit in a condensed explanation of the Quriomus Protocol for Ultra Magnus' benefit.

"Do you know what is wrong with Shadowstreaker?" Optimus asked Prowl, faceplate impassive.

"I do not. I believe his Protocol is involved, but given the questions raised by the footage—and what the Field Commander witnessed in Shadowstreaker's quarters—I cannot be certain," Prowl replied.

"Where is the Specialist right now?" Asked Ultra Magnus.

"He should still be in his quarters," Arcee said. "I locked the door when I left."

"Then let us not delay in helping Shadowstreaker any longer," Optimus said. He started down the hallway, and everyone else followed.

They arrived at Shadow's door moments later. Arcee stepped ahead to unlock it, but it opened automatically for her. She had to keep herself from gasping.

The room was _destroyed_. The shelves on the right side of the room were torn apart, souvenirs scattered everywhere along with the shelving. Lighting fixtures on that side of the room had been pulled from their housings, leaving it dark. Remnants of the Cortical psychic patches she had seen earlier were all over the room—some intact, others shattered. The one Shadow' had been working on when Arcee saw him was still there, broken and reformed. The workbench itself looked like it had been punched repeatedly.

"Does da Shadowster' always keep his room like 'dis?" Jazz asked. "'Cause Ah think he might need a talkin' to 'bout an invitin' atmosphere."

Arcee knew the saboteur was joking, but she treated the question seriously. "No, he doesn't. It looked nothing like this when I left."

The bond she shared with Ironhide grew angry, in turn affecting the bonds they both shared with Elita and Chromia; Chromia was affected far more heavily. "Then the kid must be running around with his Protocol on again."

The blue and pink femme sent disapproval to Ironhide for his tone, but didn't refute what he said. Shadow' was nowhere to be seen, his quarters destroyed; she agreed he wasn't in his right CPU. Technically.

Optimus stepped into the room, examining the damage closely, faceplate blank. Arcee's experienced optics saw the troubled look the Prime was hiding.

"What are your orders, Prime?" Prowl asked.

"Place the base on lock down. No one enters or leaves until we find Shadowstreaker." Optimus picked up a Cortical patch that had been ripped in half, the metal sheared in two. "Where are the children?"

"We had Bulkhead take them on a drive, keep them off base," Elita said.

"Good. Something tells me they should not be here. What of the wounded?"

"They watched the footage with us. Moonracer is watching over them."

"And the others?"

"Unaware of Shadowstreaker's status. We wanted to alert you and Ultra Magnus first."

Magnus frowned at the use of his name without his rank attached; Optimus nodded. "Understandable, but unnecessary. Prowl, inform everyone else on base, and stay in the ops center to operate the space bridge. But leave our patrols in the dark—they have enough to worry about."

"What about the rest of us, Prime?" Jetfire asked, stepping aside to let Prowl by him to carry out Optimus' order.

The Prime looked at Jetfire seriously. "Find him."

* * *

><p>I shifted through storage containers rapidly, tossing things aside without really looking at them or even thinking. My servos moved of their own accord. I didn't know what I was searching for at any given point—I only knew I had to <em>look<em> for it. When I found it, I placed it in a sub-space pocket and moved to search for something else. What was I even grabbing?

"_**You don't need to think about that."**_

I shouldn't think about it.

"_**Keep searching."**_

I kept searching, rummaging through the contents of another storage container before moving to another and tearing off its lid to see inside. Did I have to do that?

"_**Yes."**_

Of course I did. I _had_ to see inside every container. The fastest way to go through them all was to not waste time opening them properly. How ridiculous of me to even _think_ of doing it another way!

I seemed to find whatever it was I was searching for, sub-spacing it and moving to another container. I went to break it open, but paused, adjusting to my environment.

Something clicked in my helm, and through the rock, metal, and composites that made up the walls, ceiling, and floor, I somehow started _listening_ to far-off areas of the base. I heard fifteen pairs of pedes hitting the floor. Some above me, and some below me. Each pair had a different sound and pace to them to them—none supported the same weight. One pair was walking back and forth in the med-bay.

Two pairs of them were in the hallway outside the door, moving to the storage hanger I was standing in. Their voices were muffled, unclear. I didn't know who they were. Something about that made me unhappy, but it didn't matter. No matter who they were, maybe they'd help me search for the… Things I'm looking for!

"_**You don't need their help."**_

I don't need them to help.

"_**You need to go to Storage Hanger Beta-4."**_

I turned to walk out the door, hearing snapping back into focus. It felt weird.

"_**Not yet."**_

I stopped. But then I started moving again, heading back into the mess of storage containers, pedes and servos no longer under my own control. The voice warning me that I should be worried reappeared. It was more urgent this time. Louder. It said I needed to stop pretending.

Once again, the voice was crushed. _**"Now to meet the first customers of the day."**_

* * *

><p>Jazz led Springer down the hallway, blue optics scanning every angle from beneath his visor.<p>

After Optimus gave the order, everyone who'd gone to the med-bay with concerns about Shadowstreaker had split up into pairs to search for the Triple-Changer. The formation of each pair went quickly, and wasn't organized. As a result, Jazz and Springer had been placed together. The saboteur hadn't worked with Springer much, but he had seen how much the green Triple-Changer had matured as of late. He would watch Jazz's backplates; Jazz trusted him to.

That being said, Jazz only trusted Springer because he'd peeked into the mech's file once or twice—to make sure it was all filed correctly, of course—and read evaluations from Springer's old commanders. Evidence of the green Triple-Changer's old behavior colored every review, but they all said Springer was more than reliable when it mattered.

The saboteur had a bad feeling he was going to see if that was really true.

"Where do we start?" Jazz asked, looking at the doors to the storage hangers that lined both sides of the hallway ahead.

Springer pointed at a door to their left. "That one."

"Why 'dat one?"

"It's the one silver door here."

Jazz shrugged at the weak reasoning and stepped up to the panel next to the door Springer pointed to. He entered the combination to unlock the door, and it slid open. The room beyond was empty.

"'Da color silver an' ya don' get along, do ya?" Jazz drawled.

Springer crossed his servos, look in his optics telling the saboteur the larger mech was purposefully ignoring what Jazz said. "Let's just keep looking, alright?"

"Touchy, touchy. A'ight. What' ya next pick?"

The larger mech walked across the hallway and started entering another combination into another door panel. "This one."

The new door opened. Like the first, it was empty.

"Do ya wanna go for best three-outta-five?"

The index digit on Springer's right servo twitched. An unconscious movement on Springer's part Jazz noticed only occurred when the green Triple-Changer was getting annoyed. Good; Jazz wouldn't be doing his job if other 'Bots were never annoyed with him.

Springer went to the door right next to the one he just opened. The room was, again, empty. Jazz found that impressive; this was one of their most used storage areas on the base. The odds of finding three consecutive empty hangers was very small.

"Wow. Ya sure know how ta pick'em, don' ya, Springs?"

Springer huffed, now genuinely annoyed. "I don't see you trying to pick a door."

"Ah' been tryin' ta be polite. Ya know—give 'da average bot a chance ta shine."

"Then consider this me not wanting to shine. You choose."

Jazz looked up and down the hallway, optics shifting from door to door. They all looked identical, leading to identical rooms. Shadowster' could have been in any one of them. Or, in turn, he might have been on the other side of the base. But something was demanding Jazz go to the storage hanger four down from Springer's original pick. He followed that suggestion without questioning it. Very seldom did he ever think twice when he felt his instincts tell him something.

But he _was_ a little curious why this time his instincts felt like a large, gentle servo pushing him toward the door; usually, his instincts only told him to look at something more closely. They had never felt like they were _pushing_ him before. It was… Odd.

They reached the storage hanger Jazz's instincts were telling him to go. He went to unlock it, but the door opened automatically. The room beyond was trashed. Containers were torn to pieces, contents strewn about the floor. The hanging lights in the room were damaged. Flickering or out completely. It appeared the room was empty other than the containers and the items around the floor.

Jazz's instincts told him otherwise.

"Check your corners and stay on your pedes." Jazz's order came quickly and smoothly, within moments of the door opening for them. He had dropped his drawl completely as he stepped inside.

"Got it," Springer said from behind, staring at Jazz incredulously as he followed.

The saboteur ignored the larger mech's shock. Springer knew Jazz only dropped his fake accent when he was serious. And things had indeed just turned serious. Jazz felt _something_ was inside the room. Something dark. Otherworldly. Disturbed. Twisted. Pained. Something that didn't belong.

Something that was sending a shiver down Jazz's spine.

He and Springer made their way through the room. They found nothing in the first rows of containers, besides more parts that had been ripped out of storage. Why was he doing that? What was the Shadowster' looking for, and why was he destroying so many containers to find it? Jazz's CPU was telling him there was a pattern in the seemingly random destruction, but he couldn't see it. Not now. He was too focused on watching his backplates along with Springer's.

A faint groan of metal came from somewhere up ahead. Jazz held his servo up to halt Springer, and the saboteur listened closely to pinpoint the sound. For a moment, there was nothing. Then he heard it again. It came from the right side of the room, behind one of the rows that had only a few containers destroyed.

"_To the right and three rows forward, Springer. It might be Shadowstreaker,"_ Jazz said to Springer through a comm-link.

"_Should we go ahead and check, or call for the others?"_

"_Both."_ Jazz switched to the universal communications channel made for everyone involved in searching for the Shadowster'. _"Jazz here. Springer and I might have found Shadowstreaker in Storage Hanger Echo-3."_

Static greeted him.

The feeling of there being something _wrong_ about the situation intensified, cooling Jazz's spine. He shook it off. _"I can't raise anyone else."_

"_What? How?"_

"_Focus,"_ Jazz said calmly. _"Move up."_

They did. Jazz went first, Springer behind him. The saboteur had them hugging the sides of the containers, moving slowly so they didn't make any sound. When they came to the row Jazz where heard the noise, he stopped at the end of a container, and Springer came up next to him. Then Jazz looked around the edge of the container, down the row and toward the origin of the sound.

A small, crudely-built scale was sitting directly between the rows of containers on either side of it. It was unevenly balanced. A set of magnets were at the heavy end, one attached to the scale itself and the other attached to the floor. They were facing each other with the same charge, causing the scale to tip upward whenever the heavy end went down to the floor. A faint groan of metal sounded from the scale whenever the heavy end was level with the light end.

This was a trap.

He felt movement from behind he and Springer. Slow. Quiet. Purposeful. Menacing. "Down!" He yelled, and threw himself away from the container and dove to the floor.

Springer took a moment to react, but nonetheless followed the saboteur's example. He was too late.

A large, heavy-duty metal pipe—meant for repairs to the energon power lines—struck Springer in the chestplates. He was sent flying from the blow, crashing back through the container he and Jazz had been against, and through several other containers beyond. He didn't even have time to cry out before he vanished.

Jazz rolled with his dive and came up on his pedes in a defensive stance. Shadowstreaker was in front of him, holding the metal pipe easily. But at the same time, it wasn't Shadowstreaker—it didn't _seem _like him. The much larger mech's posture was different, less disciplined. His optics were crimson as they had been in the footage Jazz watched. And as the saboteur looked into those normally royal cobalt optics, he felt like he was seeing a glimpse of darkness itself.

The pipe came swinging toward Jazz. He slid backward, out of the makeshift weapon's reach. The pipe came again, and the saboteur dodged again. Again and again he dodged, letting himself _feel_ where he should go, instead of trying to plan his defense. Planning ahead of time could leave a fighter vulnerable if their intent was read by their opponent. Jazz preferred being wild. Unpredictable. It made him a harder target to read and track.

But that also meant he could see when he _was_ being tracked. Shadowstreaker's optics were on him at all times. Following him. Never losing sight of him. The Triple-Changer's attacks had a pattern to them—a purpose. Like they were an experiment. Shadowstreaker knew where he was going before Jazz himself did; he just wanted to test Jazz's reaction time.

The saboteur had to shake things up.

Jazz dodged to the side as the pipe crashed down to the floor where he had been standing a moment ago. As Shadowstreaker pulled the pipe up, Jazz jumped on top of it and used the extra boost from Shadowstreaker's movement to send him upward. He grabbed onto a container on top of a row and quickly pulled himself up on top of the container, out of Shadowstreaker's sight and up above the lights.

From down below, a distorted chuckle echoed up to Jazz. It seemed to chill the room. _**"You live up to your reputation, saboteur."**_

Jazz rolled off the container he was on and landed softly on another just below, frowning deeply at the Triple-Changer's words. That voice… It didn't sound like it belonged. It carried the same qualities as Shadowstreaker's voice, but it sounded like it had been jumbled up. It was like someone else had used his voice as a template, and joined the template with something else. That, coupled with Shadowstreaker's words, made Jazz quickly realize Arcee had been right.

This _wasn't_ the Shadowster'. This was someone else entirely.

A loud clang reached Jazz's audio receptors. The pipe had been dropped to the floor. _**"I must commend you on your exit strategy; it was unorthodox, but effective. You avoided harm, and—most importantly—you retreated to a place you know well: the dark."**_

The saboteur's narrowed behind his visor as he jumped between the rows of containers, deliberately making enough noise to echo around the room, disguising his true location. What was this mech saying?

"_**Darkness has been a good friend to you, hasn't it? It follows you. To planets, wars, assignments, this little rock. It's been a constant companion, wherever you go. You even embrace it, in some places. Like at Kalis, the Core, Velocitron, and oh so many more."**_

Jazz unconsciously stiffened at the mention of previous battles before he forced himself to focus. He didn't like talking about his time in Spec Ops, about the things he had done in his countless missions. For some mechs and femmes, talking about their time during and after the war was a way for them to cope with their actions in battle and the loss of friends. And it worked for them, digging up their secrets and leaving them in the open.

It didn't work for Jazz. He knew there were some things that should stay buried, never again to see the light. His exploits in Spec Ops were among those that should be forgotten.

So how was it that this mech—this pretender—knew _anything_ about them?

The room seemed to vibrate as the pretender hummed, voice coming from off to Jazz's right and down at the floor. _**"No denial? Interesting. I thought you would want to at least **_**try**_** to lighten up your actions, make them seem justified. Seems you know it's impossible to do that."**_

Jazz didn't even have to try to keep himself from answering as he jumped to another row of containers. Sometimes, wars needed people willing to do bad things for good reasons. He was one of them.

"_**Tell me, how many throats have you slit?"**_

Many.

"_**How many **_**interviews**_** have you conducted in your time?"**_

A few.

"_**How does it feel, knowing you're just like the so-called monsters you fight? Knowing you're worse than they are?"**_

Jazz stopped making so much noise, continuing on to his intended destination as silently as he could. What was the pretender on about, now? Was he trying to make Jazz feel guilty? Not a good chance of that; Jazz had known he'd pay for his actions a long time ago. Every interrogation he led, every sword through the backplates, every assassination—they would catch up to him at some point. But he made peace with that. Each questionable action he committed saved another Autobot from having to do the same thing. He could face his eventual judgement with a clear helm, knowing that.

"_**Still you offer no defense,"**_ the pretender went on, sounds of his pedes hitting the floor telling Jazz he was moving around the room. _**"How disappointing. I was hoping for **_**some**_** form of entertainment, before I moved on to bigger and better things."**_

Jazz ignored the pretender's taunts and twisted voice. He came to a stop on the containers and looked down below him. The pretender controlling Shadowstreaker was there, walking slowly, scanning his surroundings. He hadn't spotted Jazz.

From this height, the saboteur would be able to incapacitate the pretender by landing on Shadowstreaker's helm. It would hurt—both on Jazz's end and the Shadowster's later on—but it was the most effective method Jazz could use. A prolonged fight would go in the pretender's favor due to Shadowstreaker's armor, and all other ways Jazz could end a battle quickly would result in either Shadowstreaker's offlining or a long stay in stasis lock. Neither option was acceptable.

Jazz waited patiently as the pretender walked forward, closer and closer to where Jazz wanted him. Not yet, the saboteur kept telling himself. Not yet. You have one shot—only take it when it's perfect.

The pretender stepped right into the target zone. Jazz jumped, elbow-joint held out below him.

For several micro-klicks, the saboteur fell straight down, gaining momentum rapidly. In his CPU, he was falling in slow motion, planning out everything about his attack. He'd hit the pretender in the helm with tremendous force, elbow-joint first to amplify the blow. The rest of his frame would follow, bringing them both down hard. If the pretender was somehow still able to form coherent thought after that, several kicks to the helm wou—

The next thing the saboteur knew he was tumbling along the floor, helm ringing, chestplates numb with pain.

Jazz had been played.

He slammed into something solid enough to stop his journey, and fell to the floor. His world was spinning, but he was still able to check his chestplates and helm. Neither were leaking. That was good; meant the pain and dizziness would pass. He slowly got up on his knee-joints and servos, moving as quickly as he could without further disorienting himself. He struggled to figure out _how_ the pretender knew where Jazz had been, and how he struck so fast and hard. Jazz hadn't even seen him move.

The pretender stalked toward Jazz casually, crimson optics shining with a disturbed glee. _**"Aerial attack. Used commonly, by mechs of your size; it provides use of greater strength than could otherwise be produced. Very effective against most targets. Unless the target was expecting it. Which I was. Want to know why?"**_

Jazz shook his helm to clear his CPU, slowly getting up to his pedes.

"_**Because no matter how random a man is in a fight, no matter how much he tries to avoid patterns, he always falls into one. You change your fighting style rapidly and seamlessly, never using a style twice against the same opponent. A wise and slippery method of fighting, but just as predictable as staying with one style—you fall into a pattern by trying to **_**not**_** fall into a pattern. Your pattern is as easy to read as an open book."**_

"Ya wanna signed copy? Ah do give fans autographs in da form of busted limbs," The saboteur quipped, adopting his drawl as he took an unsteady step backward. The container behind him gave him a clear path up to the top of a row of containers. If he could just stall long enough to jump…

But no—his helm was spinning too much, his pedes unsteady already. He wouldn't be doing anything more than a slow walk until his helm cleared completely. The pretender had hit him too hard.

The pretender chuckled, the distorted sound echoing in Jazz's helm. He picked up the pipe from where he had dropped it before, and kept walking toward Jazz until he was standing right before the saboteur. _**"Always trying to find a way out, aren't you? So elusive." **_He swung the pipe experimentally, a twisted smile on a faceplate that didn't belong with the look. Then he rested the pipe on the side of Jazz's helm, holding it there. _**"Even in the face of death."**_

The pretender pulled the pipe back, and swung. The metal created a deep hum as it sliced through the air, homing in on Jazz's helm.

Then a flash of green and black slammed into the pretender's side, throwing the pipe out of his grasp and preventing it from reaching Jazz.

Springer was back up.

The two mechs crashed to the floor, Springer throwing the pretender off him and getting to his pedes first. He went on the offensive immediately, raining blows down on the larger mech as fast and as hard as he could. Left. Right. Kick. Punch. His movements were a blur to Jazz's spinning CPU.

But Jazz also saw the danger in Springer's form. The urgency. His armor was cracked where the pretender had struck him with the pipe, and he was favoring his right pede over his left. He was putting all his effort and hopes on his string of combos; he couldn't afford to draw out the fight.

After a particularly long and unanswered combo, Springer rushed forward and jumped, using both pedes to kick the pretender in the chestplates. He went flying back, smashing through a storage container. Jazz lost sight of him in the dark of the container.

"Come on, snap out of it, mech!" Springer yelled, returning to his pedes and keeping a stance that was between defensive and at ease, making no move to enter the container. "We're not your enemies! We're not a threat! We're your friends here, Shadowstreaker!"

Jazz realized Springer hadn't heard the pretender speak. He still thought the mech he had just fought was Shadowstreaker struggling with something affecting his Protocol, or something similar. That wasn't good.

Before Jazz could call out a warning, Shadowstreaker's pitch black form had rushed back out of the container and had a servo wrapped tightly around Springer's throat, lifting the smaller mech up to his faceplate. _**"Shadowstreaker's not here anymore,"**_ he snarled, and lifted Springer higher.

The pretender _threw_ Springer away from him, and right into Jazz.

Jazz went numb as soon as Springer hit him, stunned by the larger mech's mass landing on him. His vision blacked out for a moment, and it took a micro-klick for him to confirm he still had his servos and pedes. As far as he could tell, Springer was going through something similar.

The pretender walked toward Jazz and Springer, expression _bored_, Jazz thought. He looked up at the row of containers near all three of them, and started to walk away from Jazz and Springer. _**"Why don't you two take a little nap, hmm?"**_

As soon as he was clear of the containers, the pretender's servo lit up with the same green light Jazz saw in the camera footage. An ominous _crack_ came from the containers, and the entire _row_ started to tip toward Jazz and Springer. They tipped further and further, and fell.

The containers impacted. Then Jazz's world went dark.

* * *

><p>Why did they attack me? Why? Why? Why? What did I do?<p>

The mound of containers burying Springer and Jazz had stopped shifting. I waited for them to dig themselves out, but they never appeared. The containers remained in place. Motionless. Silent. It was deafening in its own way.

What have I _done?_

"_**You defended yourself from attack," **_the mech next to me said, distorted voice carrying no emotion.

Why did they attack me?

"_**It doesn't matter."**_

Why? Why?

"_**You shouldn't care—they didn't care about you."**_

Why?

"_**Stop thinking about it."**_

What did I do? What have I done? What did I do?

"_Fight him."_

I paused at the sudden voice, missing what the mech next to me said at the same moment. The voice was nearly identical to mine, but it also carried a regal quality that commanded respect and authority just by being there. It sounded like it was only in my helm.

What?

Everything around me changed. The hanger and the mech next to me faded away, as if they had been fog on a spring morning. Darkness surrounded me on all sides, hiding me, sheltering me. I was standing on a floor of black metal lined with dark circuitry. The circuitry made the metal appear to be broken into square panels, each three square meters in area. There were groupings of metal cubes floating over the floor that looked similar to the panels. They were almost too dark to see, only the light from the floor giving them away. They seemed—no, _felt_—_wrong_.

"_Fight him."_

I blinked and turned. There was a light in the distance, so bright it was like staring into Sol a thousand times over after seeing darkness for vorns and vorns. It seemed to be shaped like a person with a roughly humanoid shape.

"_Fight back," _the light said, regal voice projecting as if it was standing next to me, even at this distance. _"Don't let him win."_

I blinked again, tilting my helm unconsciously. Who was this? Whoever it was, it felt nice to listen to him speak. He sounded inspiring.

"_Fight. Regain yourse—"_

The darkness intensified, blotting out the light as it had never been there in the first place. A shape so black it made everything around me seem white appeared next to me. A servo like the concept of the cold grabbed my own servo and led me into the darkness.

The world snapped back into focus. The containers were back, the lights were back. I was standing in the storage hanger again.

Where had I gone?

The mech pulled me around so I was staring into his crimson optics. _**"Stop thinking."**_

Why?

The mech's optics flashed, and something else entered those two crimson orbs. Something darker and colder than the dead space between stars. It seemed to form inside the mech's own optics, staring at me with an infinite number of _eyes_. Each one felt ancient and powerful beyond measure. They made me _terrified_. _**"Stop. **_**Thinking**_**. Forget."**_

I didn't dare question him.

The look disappeared. He let go of me and pointed to the floor. _**"Grab that energon line."**_

I grabbed the line. It wasn't like the power lines. This one was smaller, compact. Meant to be used in field repairs for injured soldiers.

The mech smiled, a twisted sight, with that look in his optics. _**"Get to Beta-4."**_

I walked toward the door, forcing thought from my CPU. I couldn't let myself think—the look would come back. I didn't want the look to come back.

"_**You're fine."**_

Fine.

Fine.

Fine.

Fine…

"_**Light breaks, Good shakes**_

_**When the Night Awakes.**_

"_**So don't fret, don't bite**_

_**For the Darkness will take you Home tonight."**_

* * *

><p>Moonracer paced.<p>

She didn't want to be pacing—it wasn't something she typically did—but she couldn't help herself. Her trigger digit was itchy, aching for the collapsed Titan on her backplates. Constantly she was running calculations for a multitude of things, muzzle velocity of various firearms chief among them. Something was urging her to move. Not in particular direction or speed, just _move._ Move at all time.

Moonracer didn't like it. She liked order to her thoughts, a scientific approach to her actions. But her CPU racing too quickly to form coherent thoughts, and her constant pacing was a nervous habit from her younger cycles. For Primus' sake, she was no longer some nerve-wracked femmling! She was older now, more mature. Experienced in the long journey called Life. What was making her act this way?

'_You're beginning to unnerve them.'_ The words from her other half snapped her from her thoughtless silence. He was sending her comfort through their bond, and looking meaningfully at Bumblebee and Flareup, who she just now noticed were looking at her in worry.

The sharpshooter and medic forced herself to stop pacing, and gave the two younger bots a smile. They didn't notice it was forced, and relaxed. Moonracer turned her backplates to the med-bay's other two occupants, making it seem like she was checking Ratchet's wounds, and said back, _'You know why I am restless.'_

'_You don't know why you're restless.'_

'_Exactly!'_

Her sparkmate huffed through their bond, shifting on his medical berth uncomfortably. Her scrambled, thoughtless need to _move_ was affecting him. _'Well, you're not going to accomplish anything by wearing a hole in my—'_

'_Our—'_

'_Floor,' _ Ratchet finished, silently telling her through the bond that he agreed with her in viewing it as _their_ med-bay, not _his_—the words had been instinctive. _'Find something to keep your processor occupied.'_

'_I've tried. All I can do is focus on feeling the need to _move_.'_

'_I know.'_

'_I hate things like this.'_

'_I know.'_

'_There's no order to them.'_

'_I know.'_

'_Then why suggest doing something else?'_

'_Because pacing and thinking about _nothing_ clearly isn't helping you.'_

Moonracer sighed quietly, aware her mate was right. She stepped away from his berth and made her way to the med-bay computer to monitor the others; it would also reassure Bumblebee and Flareup to see her do something other than pace.

She checked the progress of everyone on patrol. Minimal so far—no requests for a space bridge. Not uncommon, but… She felt like _something_ wasn't quite right about that. She didn't know what was behind her feeling. Only that it seemed like her long-departed sire was gently telling her to check something.

Moonracer shook her helm, and the feeling disappeared. She brought up a program that let her see, in real time, the movement—or lack thereof, in Grimlock's case—of every active Autobot on the base. She and Ratchet very seldom used the program to preserve privacy, but with Shadowstreaker missing and clearly not well, she felt its use was warranted. Moonracer just wished she could have made it easier for everyone else and just told the others where Shadowstreaker was. The program only worked because of the tracking devices in _active _Autobots—Shadowstreaker had been placed into inactive duty, turning the tracker off. The tracker had to be manually reactivated to go online again.

She noted the location of her fellow Autobots, comparing it to standard patrol patterns. Accounting for the passage of time since she last checked everyone's location, all was in order.

The warm whisper didn't agree.

It told her something was wrong, not as it should be. That it was right in front of her, and she couldn't see it. No one in the med-bay could. But that she _needed_ to see it. Find it. Somehow.

Clamping down on the odd voice in the back of her helm before it bothered her sparkmate as much as it was her, Moonracer dismissed the program in a rush, accidentally hitting one of the keys Ratchet had bound as a shortcut to his readings of the Delphic. She went to exit the one program on the computer she _loathed_—her mate had spent _far_ too much time on it—but stopped.

One of the monitors, specifically the part of the program monitoring the Delphic's link with Shadowstreaker—which usually was in a steady, almost rhythmic line, like a sparkbeat monitor—had turned to a solid _bar._

She looked at her sparkmate. _'Love, is this normal of the Delphic?'_

He started at the question, shocked _she_ had even _mentioned_ the enigmatic energy source. _'Is what normal?'_

'_These readings. Th—'_ Moonracer cut herself off as she looked back at the screen. The bar had turned back into it's normal, steady line. She felt confusion for half a micro-klick, before she just barely caught something out of the corner of her optic.

A miniscule spark of green light arcing from the keyboard.

It was then, after seeing that spark of light, that Moonracer _saw_ what the feeling of warm whispers wanted her to _see._

Moonracer quickly opened a communications channel. _"Optimus—I need you back in the med-bay. We have another problem."_

The channel was static.

A multi-lensed, crimson optic appeared on the screen, staring right at Moonracer. Her alarm was great enough to gain worry from Ratchet, and a look from Bumblebee and Flareup.

Before she could explain even through her bond with Ratchet, the computer shut down, the lights overloading from a power surge. The door locked, the metal bar slamming into place with a metallic snap.

Moonracer no longer had to explain what had alarmed her; it was obvious to everyone, now.

There was something in the system.

And it had just turned the med-bay into a cage.

* * *

><p>Can't think. Look will come back.<p>

I sub-spaced something from the container I broke open. I didn't know what it was; I didn't look at it. I only knew it was longer and heavier than my own servo.

Can't think. Look will come back.

A rack of equipment was sent crashing to the floor, pulled from the wall by servos I didn't command. Two more items were sub-spaced.

Can't think. Look will come back.

I ripped the the door of another container off, staring down at dozens of ingots of raw Cybertronian metal. I sub-spaced all of them without checking which Cybertronian metal they were specifically, then moved to another container.

Can't think. Look will come back.

"_Fight him."_

My important musings were broken by the interruption, nearly making me drop the contents of the container. The voice sounded… Familiar. Serious, yet not scolding. Like a determined friend. Wh—

The back of a numbingly cold servo hit me over the side of the faceplate hard enough to turn me sideways. _**"Focus."**_

I went back to going through the container, ignoring the cold spot on the side of my faceplate. Can't think. Look will come back.

The mech's helm suddenly snapped toward the door. _**"Hmm. Now, who's this?"**_

I stopped searching the container, frame not under my control. I _listened_ to my surroundings, hearing everything _from_ everything. Three mechs were walking in the hallway outside. They paused on the other side of the door, then moved down the hallway. I listened as they spoke, hearing each word clearly.

The mech chuckled lowly, sound redoubling in his throat. _**"It was only a matter of time before the Old Man made an appearance. Stupid old idiot."**_

I started walking to the door, not controlling my actions. Look will come back.

The strange song returned.

"_**Light breaks, Good shakes**_

_**When the Night Awakes.**_

"_**So don't fret, don't bite**_

_**For the Darkness will take you Home tonight.**_

"_**Hmm, hmm**_

_**Hmmm, hmmm."**_

* * *

><p>"Why are we doing this, again?"<p>

"Because it's our job to look out for our fellow Autobots."

"Yeah, so why are we wasting time on a pretender?"

Smokescreen bounced lightly on his heels at Air Raid—_the_ Air Raid! The one who infiltrated Kaon by _himself!_—and Jetfire's—the _actual_ Jetfire! The same Jetfire who never once got shot down by the Decepticons!—conversation, a nervous habit of his. He wasn't sure how he felt about Air Raid's hostility to Shadowstreaker. He talked about the Triple-Changer as if he was a traitor who had personally offlined hundreds of Autobots and sold out hundreds more to the Decepticons. That didn't sound like the Shadowstreaker Smokescreen knew.

But how well had Smokescreen known Shadowstreaker in the first place? He hadn't spent a lot of time with the Triple-Changer before he was taken, but Smokescreen talked to him enough to know something had changed in Shadowstreaker while he was away. Something was darker, more serious. That, along with how stoically Shadowstreaker informed everyone he'd caused an entire _ship_ to be destroyed, made Smokescreen make every effort to avoid speaking to the mech.

But why? Why did the Triple-Changer's actions make Smokescreen so angry? What made him want to ignore Shadowstreaker's existence? It wasn't what the other mech actually _did_; Smokescreen had spoken with mechs who had _purposefully_ offlined thousands and even tens of thousands. And it wasn't as if he'd ordered the ship be destroyed; the Triple-Changer had been held captive. Was it that Smokescreen thought people like Shadowstreaker—descendants of the Primes, or the _son_ of two of the _Thirteen_, in Shadowstreaker's case—should just be… Better? Better at everything, including finding ways to save people? Smokescreen didn't know.

Jetfire rounded on Air Raid, staring intensely into the other seeker's optics. "Are you saying it's pointless to search for a troubled fellow Autobot?"

Air Raid crossed his servos, shrugging. "It is when the bot we're looking for isn't a true Autobot."

"Since when were you the one who determined a true Autobot from a Decepticon wearing our insignia?"

"Since I _didn't_ destroy an entire ship full of Autobots_._"

Jetfire shook his helm and started walking down the hallway again. "Still acting like a youngling whenever something important comes up. You're so quick to judge everyone around you, but you never let your own actions be placed under a spotlight. Convenient for you."

The other seeker scoffed. "Yeah? And you're different. I mean, when Silverbolt and I got here, I shrugged it off; maybe you'd finally hit the cranky stage of life in your old age. But I'm done shrugging it off. Primus, what happened to you, junker? Back in the cycle, you'd be the first one to call out a bad 'Bot when you saw one and have them thrown in the brig or interrogated. Now you're defending the bad ones? Treating them like they have honor? You've changed."

Jetfire's wings twitched. "I'm not the only one."

Air Raid said nothing to that.

Smokescreen kept following the other two mechs, unsure if he should make a comment on their argument. Then he heard a door behind them slide open, and he looked back where they came from. Jetfire and Air Raid did the same.

Shadowstreaker was in the middle of stepping out of a storage hanger they had past, optics burning crimson. Smokescreen stiffened at the sight of those optics. He heard from the others that Shadowstreaker had some sort of rare protocol that changed his optic color and turned him into a mindless machine when Arcee was in danger. Smokescreen briefly thought he was seeing that protocol in person, but then he saw the intelligence in those optics. The anger. The sheer _darkness._ He realized what he was seeing in Shadowstreaker's optics wasn't coming from whatever protocol he had—nothing about what Smokescreen saw in them was mindless.

Jetfire stepped forward so he was at the head of their little group, faceplate set stoically. "Shadowstreaker." The words almost sounded like a question, as if he was testing a theory. Smokescreen had seen the same thing Jetfire saw! Awesome! He was, like, well on his way to being as badaft as Jetfire was!

… His admiration for famous warriors was getting in the way of his priorities, wasn't it?

"_**Try again. Maybe you'll get it right the second time,"**_ Shadowstreaker said in a distorted voice, and immediately Smokescreen knew something was _wrong._ That wasn't Shadowstreaker talking.

Jetfire's optics narrowed. "Who are you?"

"_**I've been called a lot of things by a lot of people over the years, but I prefer Cold. It matches my sunny disposition."**_

"What did you do to Shadowstreaker?"

Cold just smiled.

The way Jetfire's optics darkened made Smokescreen feel he was seeing a part of the ancient seeker that few witnessed; Smokescreen also saw out of the corner of his optic that Air Raid seemed just as surprised as he was. "Whatever you did, you're going to pay for it."

"_**I doubt that **_**very**_** much, grandpa. You're not much of a thre—"**_

Jetfire's fist connected with Cold's jaw, the seeker's lightning-fast move accelerated by the rockets on his pedes. The impact created a loud clang.

Cold was sent crashing to the floor further down the hallway, a good sixty meters from where he had been standing. He skidded along his backplates until—in one smooth motion—he rolled backwards and jumped up, sliding to a stop in an upright position, looking like he had never fallen down in the first place.

"You were saying?" Jetfire asked.

Cold rolled Shadowstreaker's helm, stretching neck cables audibly. Smokescreen found it intimidating. _**"That tickled."**_

Suddenly Cold was standing where Jetfire had been, and the seeker was the one crashing backward, his own trick used against him. _**"That probably didn't."**_

Training took over after that. As Jetfire tumbled back, Smokescreen rushed forward, Air Raid just ahead and to his right. He knew Air Raid would hit high since he was a seeker, so Smokescreen aimed low. He would hit one of Cold's pedes, and hopefully knock him off balance so Air Raid's attack would be more effective. After that, Smokescreen didn't know what he should do—he trusted his training would tell him.

He watched Cold fall into an unfamiliar stance as Smokescreen and Air Raid rapidly approached. In an optic blink, Cold disrupted Air Raid's high attack and landed two solid punches on the other mech's chestplates before spinning and tossing the seeker to the floor back near Jetfire.

Smokescreen came closer to succeeding in his attack than Air Raid—his strike actually landed. But Cold leaned into the blow, the size and weight of Shadowstreaker's chassis negating its effectiveness. Smokescreen quickly attempted to back up after his failed attack, but Cold was using Shadowstreaker's frame with frightening precision and speed. Smokescreen wasn't fast enough to avoid the pede that took his own out from under him, or escape the servos that grabbed him and threw him into Jetfire just as the older mech was rising from the floor. They both tumbled again, and stopped near each other.

Slow to recover, Smokescreen checked himself over for injuries. He found he only had a couple dents in his armor, though they felt worse than they should. He'd be fine.

A slow beat of metal hitting metal drew Smokescreen's attention. The former Elite Guard cadet looked up to see Cold was the source of the sound. He was clapping, optics holding a mocking look in them.

"_**A good effort, I must say, but predictable, as always. Firstly, you seekers like to use your speed to your advantage, yet seem to **_**always **_**try attacking from above when in hand-to-hand; simple anticipation turns your natural advantage into a weakness. And you, wheelie—you're just stupid. You need to account for an opponent's mass when you're trying to throw them off balance. If you don't, you fail. Everyone knows that. Well, except you, it seems. You groundies aren't very smart, are you? That is what you wheeled ones are called by the seekers, isn't it? Groundie? Or is it ground-**_**ers?**_** I suppose it doesn't matter. Either way, you Cybertronians are strange."**_

Jetfire and Air Raid had both risen as Cold spoke, and Smokescreen finally joined them in standing as he fell silent. The younger mech's helm was ringing with confusion and questions. Who was this impostor controlling Shadowstreaker? Where did he come from? Why did he refer to Cybertronians like they were alien to him? Nothing about him made sense.

"And you need to leave," Jetfire said.

"'_**Leave'? As in leave leave this accursed place? Yes, you're right. I do need to do that at some point. In fact, I think I'll do that, now."**_ Cold turned and started walking down the hallway, not even giving any of them a second glance.

"No, leave as in leave Shadowstreaker's frame and have a fiery offlining." The ancient seeker's voice had adopted a hard edge to it.

"_**Oh, I know what you meant." **_ Cold stopped and turned again. _**"I just find it amusing that some part of you actually thinks you can **_**do**_** anything about me."**_

Jetfire deployed his Missile Rifle, and Smokescreen jumped in surprise. "I can think of one thing I can do," the ancient seeker said lowly and darkly.

Smokescreen couldn't decide who he was more scared of—Cold or this side of Jetfire. It seemed like Air Raid was thinking the same thing, since Smokescreen saw him take half a step away from the other seeker.

"_**Oh. Shiny." **_Cold tilted Shadowstreaker's helm to the side and back, one optic ridge raised. A picture of arrogance. _**"So you think killing me is going to help? You kill me, you kill your friend. No one wants that. Or rather, **_**some**_** people don't want that. The others? They don't care."**_ He smiled, then looked behind him and called, _**"Isn't that right, gladiators?"**_

From further down the hallway, the red and yellow forms of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker appeared from two gaps between two different doors and the sides of the hallway. The faceplates of both twins were cautious as they slowly advanced toward Cold. How had Cold even heard them?

"_**Now, don't tell me. You're Gladiator-One, and you're Gladiator-Two. Or are **_**you**_** Gladiator-One, and **_**you're**_** Gladiator-Two? You Cybertronians all look the same."**_ Cold asked, distorted voice carrying something akin to humor. It didn't sound right.

The twins just scowled at Cold.

"Twins?" Jetfire asked in greeting.

"Finished our route. Turned back after the dead end. Heard a rumble down this hallway. Came to investigate. Found you," Sunstreaker summarized.

"_**Yes, yes. And you thought you were being stealthy. I know." **_Cold looked back at Jetfire. _**"Where were we? Ah yes—you were trying to be noble. Which you were failing at, by the way. That happens when you threaten to kill someone else."**_

"I never said I'd offline you," Jetfire said. "But I'm willing to bet what you've done to Shadowstreaker can be reversed if we can keep you still long enough. You won't stay in one place willingly, and you've shown you have no qualms about fighting. The only way you're going to stop is if you're disabled. Otherwise, you stay in control of Shadowstreaker. I'm sure the youngling will take recovering in the med-bay over having you stick around." He fell silent, then added in a harsher tone, "Twins."

The twins glanced at each other for a moment, silently communicating. Then they deployed their swords and took up combat stances, waiting, pacing. Like fighting animals waiting for their cage to open, Smokescreen decided, deploying one of his own weapons at the insistence of Jetfire; Air Raid did the same.

Cold looked between the two groups of Autobots, smiled, and crossed Shadowstreaker's servos. Then he laughed. A sick, twisted, disturbing laugh that seemed to bring Cold's namesake to the hallway. _**"You just have no idea what you're dealing with, do you?"**_ One of Shadowstreaker's servos flashed with deep emerald light, a bolt of the same light hitting the floor.

The light spread out like a drop of water in a still lake, expanding out away from Cold in a circular wave that traveled throughout the floor and even up the walls and the ceiling well above them all.

When the light reached Smokescreen, he suddenly couldn't grip the floor with his pedes. Each time he moved one, it slipped out from under him and he almost fell. It was like trying to walk on ice covered in some kind of oil.

Then he started _floating_. Literally. Right off the floor and into the air, slowly going up and up. This was _not_ okay! Smokescreen was a grounder, not a seeker! He didn't like this! He liked it even _less_ with Cold being the one responsible for it. Who was he? _What_ was he? And _how_ could he do this through Shadowstreaker's frame?!

A quick check told Smokescreen the twins were experiencing the same thing he was, flaring around in a poor attempt to gain control of their movements; however, Jetfire and Air Raid had broken free of the phenomenon by using their jets. They looked on in shock and mute amazement, too stunned to form words.

Cold laughed again. _**"Even after the countless number of centi-vorns gifted to your kind to learn, you Cybertronians **_**still**_** can't grasp the fact your kind are **_**playthings**_**. Your lives are worthless. Pointless. You are used for mere entertainment by your betters. You were **_**built**_** to die. You are, all of you, **_**nothing**_**."**_

"Then this shouldn't hurt much then, fragger!" Sunstreaker shouted furiously, drawing Smokescreen's attention to him just before the older twin threw one of his swords down at Cold, throwing himself into an unending cycle of spinning in the air in the process.

The weapon was perfectly balanced and maintained very well. It flipped several times on its journey down to its target, edges shining in the light. It hit Cold in the shoulder-joint—Shadowstreaker's bad one. The one injured on a mission before Smokescreen came to Earth. The sword found a gap in Shadowstreaker's heavy layers of armor, piercing through the shoulder-joint and hitting the armor on the other side.

Cold snarled and looked upward in a glare that Smokescreen could feel from across the hallway, without it even being sent his way. It felt dark.

For the first time since Smokescreen had known him, Sunstreaker looked afraid.

A sword from Sideswipe brought the look to an end. Cold—with the first sword still in his shoulder-joint—moved and deflected the blade away so it buried itself into the floor instead of in his other shoulder-joint. He growled after he dodged.

Jetfire and Air Raid were broken from their shock by the first attack by Sunstreaker. By the time Sideswipe threw his sword, they were aiming their own weapons. They opened fire as soon as they had the shots they wanted, raining weapons fire down on Cold—Air Raid with the Neutron Assault Rifle he'd kept since his initial training, and Jetfire with his Missile Rifle. Smokescreen joined with his standard servo-blaster—Paraion weapons would cause too much damage. He aimed as far from Cold's critical areas as possible, as Jetfire and Air Raid did.

Cold struggled under the storm of energy bullets and scaled down missiles, being hit constantly by one or the other. The twins threw their remaining swords. They both missed, but only just; Cold avoided them by mere inches. And he was slowing down, wounds taking their toll on him. It looked like Jetfire's plan was working.

But then two bolts of emerald light shot out from Cold's servo as he nearly collapsed to the floor, striking Jetfire and Air Raid in the chestplates. They went from firing, to completely still, optics dark. They fell out of the air, limp, and crashed to the floor. Neither of them moved.

Panic and concern swept over Smokescreen, and he stopped firing his own weapon. He looked down at the unmoving frames of Jetfire and Air Raid for a sign they were alright, but he was given nothing. What happened to them?

Cold stood up fully from his near collapse. Numerous dents and wounds covered the chassis he controlled, but his posture gave no indication of pain. He ripped the sword from his shoulder-joint, tearing out bits of both armor and internal components. He didn't seem to care. Then he looked up.

That look Smokescreen _felt_ was now being focused on him. Cold's optics stared directly into Smokescreen's, and the white and blue mech swore the crimson optics he was transfixed on had adopted a multi-lense that broke apart countless times.

It made Smokescreen _petrified._

Both of Cold's servos started sparking with emerald light, arcing rapidly. Like little pieces of lightning. He stood below and between where Smokescreen and the twins floated. The twins were to his right, and Smokescreen was to his left. With a particularly distorted and twisted voice, he said one word, _**"Break."**_

Smokescreen and the twins flew away in different directions, tumbling and moving incredibly fast. Too fast._ Impossibly _fast. The hallway was not long. He was going to hi—

He knew no more.

* * *

><p>Green light bad. Green light wrong. Green light destroys. What have I done?<p>

"_**They had it coming."**_

Green light destroys. What have I done?

The mech next to me gave a distorted sigh. _**"Must I repeat myself? I said they had it coming, especially the Old Man. He was the worst."**_

What have I done?

"_**Hey, are you deaf or just plain stupid? They had it **_**coming**_**."**_

I looked down at my servos, the source of the light. The tools used to destroy. What am I?

The mech stepped in front of me. _**"Look at me."**_

"_Fight him."_

I raised my helm to look at the mech, but instead I found myself staring at an infinite expanse of darkness that felt… Familiar. Everything was. The metal floor was familiar, the cubes of metal were familiar, and the circuitry was familiar. When had I been here before?

"_Fight him."_

Suddenly, I realized someone made out of light was standing in front of me, lighting up everything around us with his presence. The light at its source was blinding, but it also allowed me to see the cubes formed with other cubes to create great structures, countless kilometers wide and tall. They all seemed to be darkened, hampered by frost that covered their surfaces.

How had I not seen him before now?

"_Don't give in. Think. Rationalize. Fight. Win."_ With each word he spoke, the circuitry brightened, frost on the cubes fell off in flakes, and the light surrounding him became less blinding.

As the light receded, the appearance of the speaker became clear. He was a tall, broad mech—taller and broader than I was, with a battlemask over his faceplate. His thick armor was white as snow, and his optics were gold. Parts of the armor on his shoulder-joints, backplates, and servos floated in the air, moving in tune with him without being in physical contact with the rest of his frame. Golden runes in the language of the Primes—Primic—ran over his armor and his battlemask.

Looking at him, and hearing him speak, was refreshing. It felt like he had the power to motivate anyone to do anything, no matter how impossible it seemed. Even then, he made me want to think again, do more than obey.

My motivation to think went away when the space around us _shook._ The metal ground shifted, shaking as if it were in the middle of an earthquake. Darkness creeped in against the light of the mech in front of me, darkening the circuitry, recreating the frost that fell from the cubes. And in the distance, an ominous rumbles thundered through the air. Like a giant hitting a great wall again and again.

Look will come back…

The Mech of Light looked in the direction of the rumbling, and calmly raised a servo. A bolt of white light appeared from his servo, stopping and spreading outward and back over us in a dome. It blocked out the rumbling and the Darkness, keeping them at bay. The frost on the cubes within the dome melted instantly, circuitry beginning to glow faintly. It felt warm and safe inside the dome.

The Mech of Light looked back at me. _"Face your sins. Own them. Stop this. Stop _him_."_

His words inspired me to let myself think, just a _little bit._ The circuitry around us became alive with bright blue light, cubes moving in every direction at once. "H—h—how…?" I managed to ask, barely able to get the word out. My voice sounded incredibly weak and small in comparison to the Mech of Light's regality.

His optics became filled with determination, and it encouraged me just by seeing his confidence. _"You are to be the Xel'Tor. Act like one."_

It was then that the Darkness outside formed into a servo and _shattered_ the dome. The circuitry went dark like the night, cubes freezing in place, frost covering everything. The Mech of Light was overwhelmed in an instant, engulfed by the Darkness, Light vanishing from my sight.

The servo made from Darkness grabbed me, then _pulled_ me away.

I was back in the hallway, falling to the floor heavily where I was thrown. Had I ever left?

The mech grabbed me and roughly pulled me up to my pedes. He looked unhappy. _**"Stop thinking. Forget everything."**_

I hesitated, staring at him. Why should I do what he tells me? All he's been doing is cause destruction.

The mech growled, a frightening sound. The look in his optics came back, but something deep within me resisted its horrifying depths. _**"Forget."**_

I struggled, fighting an internal battle on two different fronts for two different reasons. One to fight, the other to obey. Both tempted me, and both repulsed me. I could make no decision.

Then something pushed me more toward the will to fight, and it gained a permanent, narrow lead over the desire to obey.

"I… Don't want to," I said as firmly as I could manage. It was barely above a whisper.

The mech rolled his optics and growled again, this time from extreme annoyance. Then before I could say anything else, he grabbed me by the front of my armor and threw me against the wall hard enough to smash the stone it was made of.

I tried to pry myself from the wall, but the mech was upon me before I could even move my servos. He punched me in the chestplates, further burying me into the wall and breaking the first layer of my armor. He moved in close and grabbed both sides of my helm, pinning me to the broken wall by my helm. His servos made it feel like my processor was freezing.

"_**Forget."**_

My only response was to kick him in the tank. All I succeeded in doing was numbing my own pede.

A scowl appeared on the mech's faceplate, look in his optics intensifying. _**"You are so pathetic,"**_ he said with contempt.

Then he started to squeeze.

I had to bite back a scream of agony as I felt the armor of my helm start bending and cracking, sounds not seeming right because of how cold his servos were. I brought my own servos up to the inside of his to push his servos off my helm, but they did nothing to hamper him—he didn't even seem to notice.

The mech leaned forward so his faceplate was inches from mine, optics closer and more terrifying than they'd ever been before. _**"I've grown **_**so**_** tired of you."**_

The squeezing increased. I fought back with all I was, but nothing I did made a difference. But I couldn't stop. I ha—

There was a snap of metal.

Then nothing.

* * *

><p>Cold rolled Shadowstreaker's—no, <em>his<em>—shoulders. He brought a hand up and curled his fingers, flexing them experimentally. Then he took in a deep breath and slowly released it, the air rumbling in his throat.

"_**Hmm. Not bad,"**_ he said. This body was durable and strong, but it lacked the agility Cold preferred. The wounds it carried were also proving to be a little bothersome, not repairing themselves as fast as Cold wished they would. Seemed standard overclocking gave Cybertronians only moderate improvements.

No matter. It would serve its purpose.

Cold used the various systems he controlled in this base to check on the other Cybertronians.

The med-bay was still dark and locked, but the female was attempting to hook the computer to an energy cell she had on hand. Cold rerouted power to the computer from different systems, overloading the computer and foiling her attempt to circumvent his localized blackout.

Cold searched for the others. The Berserker was still hiding in his room, unconcerned with the goings on outside his door, having ignored the leader's attempt to recruit him for the search. Another was manning their transport system, as he'd been ordered. The other six were separated. Two were down in the Cybertronians' training level, and the last four had crossed paths in their search patterns, moving down hallways that were outside the patrol routes of _both_ pairs. They were moving in Cold's direction.

This was going _very_ well.

"_**Like Moths to a flame,"**_ he said. Just as he'd wanted, the remaining Cybertronians on this level had been at the base's farthest reaches when he'd disposed the main group. The battle was a complication, since the noise it made was now attracting the other four to him, but it was of little concern; his plan was intact. He had wanted to recover a few more objects before making his escape, but he technically had what he needed for the basics—and he could cannibalize what remaining items he wanted when the time came. He truly _needed_ only one more item for everything to be _perfect._

Next stop, the Medics' room.

Cold walked in the direction opposite of the four Cybertronians who were approaching, singing to himself.

"_**Light breaks, Good shakes**_

_**When the Night Awakes.**_

"_**So don't fret, don't bite**_

_**For the Darkness will take you Home tonight.**_

"_**Hmm, hmm**_

_**Hmmm, hmmm.**_

"_**Ashes, ashes,**_

_**We all fall dead."**_

* * *

><p>Optimus made his way down the hallway, Ultra Magnus, Ironhide, and Arcee at his sides. They'd met up a short time ago, and it was then that they all heard weapons fire from the quadrant of Jetfire's team and the twins. He had attempted to raise them on the universal communications channel, but he'd received only static. Now they were investigating both the weapons fire and the silent communications.<p>

He had a strong feeling that anything they found would keep them from something they needed to do. Something bigger. More vital.

The Prime didn't know where he was receiving the sense of urgency, but he knew it first appeared when he saw the state of Shadowstreaker's quarters. At the time, he thought the feeling to be normal, as he cared greatly for all his soldiers—even the ones that hated him, like Grimlock. But the feeling had grown stronger and stronger since then, at times feeling like a servo that was trying to pull him in directions outside his search pattern.

He had ignored when it did that.

But even though he did not listen to it entirely, Optimus could not dismiss the way the feeling of urgency would double in intensity when he did not do as it said. It was as if the feeling of urgency had a CPU of its own, and it was disappointed he was not listening to its guidance. Like how his sire had felt when a young Optimus—then Orion—refused to pay attention.

The Prime didn't like ignoring the feeling he had, but as Prime, he could not afford to always listen to his feelings unless the Matrix approved. And this cycle, the Matrix was oddly silent. Why did it not give him insight to their situation?

They continued down the hallway, turning several times in the large expanse of passages inside the base. According to Optimus' estimation, they were near the origin of the gunfire. Three more turns, and they would be at their destination.

A warning from the guilt told him to stop and go another direction.

Optimus ignored the feeling and continued leading his group. They rounded one of the turns. Two more.

The feeling of urgency intensified, but was again ignored. Barely; it was stronger than it had been at any point since its appearance. Optimus and his Autobots neared the second to last turn.

That was when the urgency increased for a second time, and this time Optimus could not ignore it or stop it or hamper it in any way. It _would_ be listened to.

He came to a sudden stop just before the turn, the feeling so powerful it overwhelmed every sense he had besides the feel of the Matrix. He stumbled to the side of the hallway, placing a servo against it and using it to keep himself upright. He couldn't hear or see anything, and he could barely form a thought. The only thing that was coming in clear to him was the sense they were in the _wrong_ place. That they needed to be somewhere else.

The feeling lessened, and Optimus regained his senses. The Matrix gave him a feeling of approval; it was the first time since that morning Optimus felt anything from it. Why was it choosing to be active only after Optimus was forced to listen to the sense of urgency? Was it all a test?

Ultra Magnus stepped up next to him, frowning slightly. "Sir, are you well?" He asked, and Optimus could see the question written on the faceplates of Ironhide and Arcee. Ironhide looked more concerned than Arcee did. Optimus suspected she was saving most of her concern for another mech.

"I'm fine," Optimus said, standing up straight again. He did not take another step in the direction they had been going, and both the sense of urgency and the Matrix sent him approval. "But we need to leave."

The frown on Magnus' faceplate deepened. "May I ask why, sir?"

"We're not where we should be."

The other three Autobots shared a look between them. Then Ironhide asked, "Well, then where _should_ we be?"

"I… Do not know."

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>Too obvious. Too out in the open. Too far off the ground. Too impractical."<strong>_ Cold tore a hole in the nearby desk, the common metal providing little resistance. _**"And no hidden compartment in the desk. Typical."**_

The last necessary item on his list was proving to be harder to find than expected. He had torn numerous objects apart in his search—furniture, lights, the base of the bed, personal items. None of them contained what he was looking for. If he was not in control of the base's systems, he would have assumed his prize was hidden in another location. But he _was_ in control of the systems, and he knew it _had_ to be here. Somewhere.

Cold stepped away from the desk and used his control of the base systems to scan the room as much as he could. But the only systems that were active in the private rooms of these Cybertronians were power lines, and there was only so much he could discover from those. His scan gave him no leads. His objective might have been in the room, but wherever it was stored was either running off its own power supply, or had no power in the first place. He couldn't locate it as he had the other items he needed

He growled in annoyance and kicked at a piece of debris he had created during his search. It flew across the room in a blur, propelled by the strength of an overclocked foot. This resulted in it being at waist-level when it connected with the opposite wall… And passed _through_ it. A crash came from that direction, and the debris came tumbling back _out _in several pieces. The wall rippled each time the fragments touched it.

Cold's attention was drawn immediately to the wall, and he crossed the room with a grin on his face. A hologram. How cliché.

He reached the wall and put a hand through the hologram. After a short time spent searching the cavity beyond, his fingers brushed up against a small switch. He flipped it, and the hologram deactivated, revealing a square storage area that was five feet wide and twice as tall and deep. A collection of items were contained within, but there was only one object that Cold cared about.

And it was floating in the middle of the hidden storage area, producing nearly blinding light from its nigh-indestructible, glowing crystalline shell.

Cold's smile grew. _**"So **_**that's**_** where you've been hiding."**_ He reached in and pulled the power source out from its hiding place. It felt uncomfortably warm in his hands, but Cold didn't care. He had one of Emitters—the White, to be exact. He had all he needed.

He placed the Conduit in one of the strange storage portals Cybertronians had installed in their bodies, and started to walk out of the room.

A table in the corner caught his eye before he stepped through the door. It was large, roughly thirty feet long and half as wide. It made simply, created from a single thick, dense panel of metal. Gravity repulsors kept it off the floor, floating it in place about three feet in the air. It appeared to be a project made by one of this room's inhabitants, a test of experimental technology.

Cold placed a foot on the table and pushed down, testing its ability to maintain altitude. The table lowered by mere inches. He could work with it.

He Summoned, touching the table with a hand sparking with light. He knew everything about the table the moment he touched it, including how to operate its gravity repulsors. Cold took his foot off the table and told it to move out into the hallway; its basic control system complied, and it floated out the door. Cold followed it out.

* * *

><p>"Got anything?" Elita called to her sister, standing out in the middle of the shooting range. Her location made her feel like a fool, but a bot that didn't want to be found could hide anywhere, including behind targets on a range.<p>

A feeling of mild annoyance was sent her way through their bond, and Chromia's helm appeared from the top of the climbing wall. "What do you think?"

"That you would have told me if you had."

"Exactly right. So why bother with the question?"

"Protocol."

Her sister rolled her optics, emotions in their bond mirroring the gesture. She made her way down the climbing wall, then made her way over to Elita. "Always protocol with you, isn't it?"

"Good leaders need to have good rules."

"True." Chromia glanced around the Safe. "We've checked everything down here, and not a thing. Should we check the combat simulator?"

Elita knew without sharing a sibling bond with her sister that Chromia was really asking whether they could leave—she felt they were getting nowhere down here. Elita agreed. As she started making her way back to the elevator, she said, "We'll check a few storage hangers, then touch base with everyone else."

"They'd have told us if they found him," said Chromia.

Elita stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the surface level. "They would have, but it doesn't hurt to check in."

Chromia shrugged, and they both fell silent.

The older sister was comfortable with the silence for a short time, but something told her they were in danger. That something was wrong. She felt they shouldn't be on the elevator right now. She always trusted her feelings, but was always wary of acting on them. Nevertheless, she followed part of what her feeling told her to do. "Actually, scratch that—go head and touch base with everyone."

Chromia raised an optic ridge, but complied. _"Chromia, here. How's the search going?"_

She received static as a response.

Blinking in confusion and concern she immediately buried, Chromia looked at Elita. "I can't raise anyone."

Elita knew this already, due to being part of the communications channel Chromia patched in to. She tried getting through anyway, and was met with the same result as her sister. They both shared a look.

Were they being _jammed?_

* * *

><p>Cold trailed the floating table down the hallway, making his way to his final destination at a steady, moderate pace. He knew the four Cybertronians who had been approaching his position earlier had not moved for a long time, halted by their leader. The others were not pleased, but they obeyed their commander—the Prime, Cold realized. Since they were still a ways off, maybe he could make another trip to a storage hanger. It would be easier t—<p>

He detected the elevator next to him activate.

Cold focused on the elevator, extracting every bit of information he desired. The Cybertronians down in the training level were now approaching the surface, their search of that area complete. Cold accessed the elevator control panel and _listened_ to their dialogue.

He scowled when he positively identified them as two of the three sisters on the base. The elder two, to be precise—Orphan-One and Orphan-Two, he designated them. He didn't care what their real names were. The only thing that mattered was they would be a problem, if they reached him.

Cold let himself _seeth_ until the elevator was within a hundred feet of the level he stood on. Summoning again, he manipulated the elevator and stopped its ascent, right where he wanted it to be.

He didn't tolerate _problems._

* * *

><p>The elevator came to a stop, brakes grinding audibly.<p>

Elita and Chromia stumbled slightly as the elevator halted. Elita tried getting the elevator to move again, but when she pressed the button, her only reward was a green spark from the panel.

"That wasn't a malfunction, was it?" Chromia asked, optics narrowed. The emotions from her end of the bond matched the look on her faceplate.

"I don't know," Elita said. Even though she didn't agree verbally, internally she was thinking the same thing. The elevator didn't just stop working; it was made too soundly to have serious problems. And then there was the way she felt like they were being watched from all directions. Like the walls themselves were spies.

It gave her a bad feeling.

* * *

><p>Cold reversed the polarity of the command given to it by one of the Orphans, and rerouted power to increase the power in its motors. Then he sent the elevator <em>down.<em>

It rocketed downward as if sucked into a blackhole.

"_**Ashes, ashes**_

_**We all fall dead."**_

* * *

><p>Elita was almost thrown up to the roof as the elevator suddenly <em>rocketed<em> downward, reaching speeds far beyond safe in a very short amount of time. What was happening? What was making the elevator fall like this?

No. Not fall, she realized—_pushed._ To speeds where a sudden stop would cause the elevator to fall in on itself, and perhaps collapse the entire shaft down on them. That could potentially mean thousands of metric tons of debris.

Someone was trying to offline Elita and her sister. And it was a pretty _damn_ good attempt.

It was then that Elita felt sorrow. Not for herself, but for Optimus and Arcee. She was one of Optimus closest friends and advisers—had they not been commanders, they would be so much more. And Arcee… Her Little 'Cee. Her and Chromia's sparkling sister. There were things Elita had never said for Arcee's benefit, but there were others Elita and Chromia should have shared with her when she was old enough.

The whole truth about their creators chief among them.

Elita looked over at her sister, and she saw the hard-to-see signs that Chromia was communicating with her mate through their bond. "What are you telling him?"

The smaller femme smiled grimly. "Just that I love him. That I love him with everything I have."

The elevator impacted.

And then there was only darkness.

Complete, oppressing, oily darkness.

* * *

><p>Arcee felt her spark get stabbed. Once. Twice. Three times. One for each of her bonds. It was unlike any pain she had experienced before.<p>

Ironhide collapsed and came to rest next to her, convulsing. She turned away as Magnus scrambled to his side, yelling something to her brother-in-bond, but she couldn't make it out. She barely heard the rumble from the opposite side of the base. Barely felt the entire base shake. She could even barely think.

Optimus approached and leaned down so he was at her level. She could see that he was speaking to her, but she couldn't make out any of the words. So much pain…

Dimly, Arcee knew what she was feeling and what was causing it. And it would never go away; it would keep crippling her unless she did something about it.

Reluctantly, Arcee slammed figurative doors on all her bonds. The pain went away instantly, but it left her feeling cold and empty. Alone. She almost preferred the pain.

"—hat is wrong?" Optimus' voice cleared, and she could hear the concern hidden in his words. "Are you alright, Arcee?"

"I'm…" She definitely wasn't good—not after what she felt. But she couldn't think about that, now. She had to focus. No matter how much she wanted to stop everything. "I'm functional."

Optimus looked behind her at Ultra Magnus and Ironhide, but Arcee refused to look. She couldn't—it would shatter her focus. "What happened?" The Prime asked.

Arcee couldn't get herself to speak of it. "We need to go," she said instead, walls in place to keep her voice emotionless. She saw the look in Optimus' optics. The very _normal_ worry and desire to know what was wrong. He knew it had involved her siblings, and it made him anxious.

The look vanished as the _Prime_ side of him took over. "I have felt I made us wait too long to move. But, we cannot move unless we have a destination."

"The ops center." Arcee said the words without thinking, blocking out Ultra Magnus' continued shouting at Ironhide. Part of her wanted to say, 'The elevator,' but the location she had given felt _right._ She didn't know why it did, or what compelled her to say it.

"Are you certain?"

"Very."

"Then we go." Optimus stood to his full height and looked behind her again. She felt he was looking at Magnus. "Take care of him."

"Yes, Prime." Magnus sounded distracted. Arcee wasn't sure she found that a good sign or a bad one.

Optimus turned back to Arcee. "Come," he said, then turned and ran down the hallway.

She followed immediately, ignoring the way Magnus' shouts became more urgent.

* * *

><p>Cold approached the transport room, moving at a more clipped pace than he'd have preferred. Simultaneously, he was watching two of the group of four Cybertronians making their way toward him at a rapid rate. He needed to work fast—he was running low on time.<p>

He rounded a corner, then quickly made his way down the final leg of hallway to the transport room. The Cybertronian was still manning the teleportation system, face devoid of emotion. Cold recognized him as the Murderer—this group's SIC.

The Murderer turned away from the computer as Cold entered the room. His mechanical eyes analyzed him for less than a second. "You are not Shadowstreaker."

Cold smiled and clapped once, genuinely impressed by the Murderer's speedy analysis. _**"Congratulations—you're the first person to realize that straight away. Do you want what's behind Door Number 1, or a simple cash prize? Neither? Ah, I know what you want: to hide your sins behind logic. I'm afraid we don't carry anything to help you with that delusion."**_

The Murderer gave no indication to what he thought of the taunt, and Cold's respect for the mech went up at that moment; it was not easy to keep things from him. The Murderer stepped away from the computer and out into the middle of the room. He appeared to be in a normal pose, but Cold could see it was a rouse. All species had rarer, more brutal forms of hand-to-hand combat that had stances made for luring in opponents. Cybertronians were no different.

"Who are you?" Asked the Murderer.

Cold chuckled, the sound echoing around the room. _**"Oh, how I **_**wish**_** you and I could have a longer chat about that. But unfortunately, I don't have the time for it."**_ He Summoned, and the table _flew_ toward the Murderer.

It seemed the Murderer anticipated the move. He ducked down, letting the table fly over him and hit the back wall. He returned to a standing position, and brought one of his Rifles to bear.

But then Cold propelled himself forward, using the trick the Old Man had inadvertently shown him, and kneed the Murderer with all his strength. It landed just as the Murderer was preparing to fire. Right into his chin.

The Murderer's head snapped backward. He remained standing for a moment, then fell. He didn't move after that.

Cold scoffed, unimpressed. _**"Weakling."**_ He used his control of the base to activate the Cybertronians' teleporter, lighting the room green. Then he scrambled the computer's data, making sure it never recorded even part of the real coordinates he set the teleporter to open.

Summoning again and raising his hand, Cold regained control of the floating table. He told it to right itself—it had fallen at an angle and had no system to keep it level—and had it float over to him. It stopped directly in front of him.

Now to go to work.

He unloaded various objects from the strange pockets of the body he controlled: metal ingots; tools; some small weapons; energy cells; explosive material. Many things. When he was done, the table was covered in a pile of items he'd collected, their weight making the table float only inches above the floor.

Cold stared at the pile for a moment, considering whether he should add one more item. He decided that he should.

Summoning, Cold made his hand glow with emerald light, each bolt arcing. Then he held his hand out, and drove it into his own chest. The light on his hand let him tear through the armor and form-fitting semi armor with ease. He grabbed onto a part inside, then _tore _out, creating a large hole in his chest cavity. He didn't feel any pain from it, nor did he even know what he had taken out.

He transferred the light to his other hand, then Infused some of it into the part he held. Green light started to arc over it.

Satisfied, Cold dropped the part on top of the pile, then commanded the table to move through the portal in front of him. It disappeared shortly after.

Part one was complete.

He checked in on the Prime and the other Cybertronian. They were approaching quickly. He had to work fast.

Cold closed the portal, changed the coordinates, and commanded it to reopen. At the same time, he opened each of the strange pockets in his body at once, dumping the contents to the floor. The items were the same as the ones he loaded onto the table—save for the Emitter—but they were greater in volume.

Cold Summoned again. But this time he held nothing back, didn't keep the light from traveling to other areas of his body. He virtually _glowed_ in that room. He checked in on the two Cybertronians again.

It was now or never.

He focused all the light into his fingertips, and shot it down into the pile in front of him.

* * *

><p>Optimus and Arcee could hear the space bridge at full power before they neared the ops center at almost a full sprint. They could feel it vibrating the floor. They saw its light flooding the room.<p>

But nothing gave them an indication of what they were about to see.

They entered the ops center, sliding to a halt. The computer was running itself, opening and closing programs without anyone operating it. Prowl was prone on the floor, unmoving.

And at the space bridge entrance, a crimson-opticed Shadowstreaker was melting metal into liquid.

His servos were glowing with light, focusing it down into metal in front of him, heedless of the wounds that riddled his chassis. The metal in front of him—items made of various alloys and raw ores—was _melting_ and fusing into a single, black metal in molten form_._ But it wasn't molten; no heat came from it. It was just _becoming_ liquid. As if the act of smelting had never been a necessary part of forging.

The black liquid oozed its way away from Shadowstreaker, forming into a giant pool as dark as the void. In the middle of it, the Delphic floated easily.

As he watched, Optimus felt the urgency guiding him increase to a level far beyond where it had been before.

Along with it, there was a trace of _fear._ Not of Shadowstreaker—for he realized he and Arcee were not looking at Shadowstreaker himself—but of something else.

The last of the metals turned into liquid and joined with the black. Then in an intense flare, the green light left Shadowstreaker's digits, bonding with the black fluid. His optics stopped being crimson, but they didn't return to their normal color, either.

They were dark. Powerless.

His frame slowly collapsed, frozen in its pose, and landed heavily on the floor. He showed no sign of life.

Arcee wanted to cry out when she saw that, both from horror and from feeling her already-fragile emotional state break. But she found she couldn't; she felt nothing but numbness.

The remaining liquid pooled in with the rest, light arcing and flickering rapidly.

Then, it started to _rise._

It started first as a small disturbance in the pool of black. Then it grew into a series of drops that were going the wrong direction, falling _up_ instead of down. The drops turned into trickles, the trickles to part of the pool seemingly being affected by a wave. It kept rising and soon the liquid had taken up the shape of a towering, massive, formless being of liquid that kept shifting and falling down, only to rise back up.

When the last of the liquid joined with the formless being, the liquid solidified.

The liquid became black armor. Seamless, shineless. Thick. It was jagged at every point that was possible without hampering movement, and sides of his helm were adorned by red Primic runes that were reversed. The armor belonged to a mech who stood more than ten feet over Optimus, and had a powerful build. His chassis had no wings or wheels. It didn't even seem to be intended to transform in general.

The mech held his servos out to his sides, flexing his digits and forming fists. His optics opened; they were crimson in color and multi-lensed. He laughed, and the lights flickered at the distorted sound. _**"Oh, how it feels **_**so**_** good to be **_**free**_**…"**_

Optimus stiffened at the voice. It sounded so… Wrong. Corrupted. He could find no other term for it. Every instinct he had was telling him he had to stop this mech—that Optimus had to be sure he _never_ took one step outside the base.

He pulled the Omni Saber from his backplates. Like with the Star Saber, he felt every fiber of his very being be enhanced simply by holding the Ancient blade. But unlike the Star Saber, it didn't feel quite right. He felt it was not intended for his use, but for another, and he was using it without permission. It felt odd.

However it felt, he could—and _would_—use it. He brought the Omni Saber out in front of him, the blade crackling with dark red, celestial power. It would destroy anything Optimus desired.

The mech turned his helm to Optimus, multi-lensed optics like two pools of darkness. Only the Matrix in Optimus' chestplates kept him from flinching. _**"Let me just stop you right there."**_

Green light shot out from the mech's servos, and suddenly Optimus found he was frozen. No matter what he did, he couldn't make himself move at all. Even his optics were frozen in place, staring at the mech.

Beside him, Arcee went through the same thing. But she was stuck looking at the unmoving form of her courted, still feeling nothing. She longed to feel anything besides just the numbness.

"_**You are the Prime, aren't you?" **_ The mech asked, slowly walking toward the unmoving Autobots. _**"I give you credit for the team you have assembled on this tiny little world. They are loyal, skilled, powerful fighters. Truly a force to be reckoned with."**_

As expected, Optimus said nothing in response.

"_**Not one for compliments?"**_ The mech mocked. _**"I suppose I can understand why. Taking credit for things you don't do **_**is**_** a pretty terrible thing. And you do like to sit on your ass, really."**_

Optimus could only listen.

"_**After all, while you were running around, old Cold here picked your team apart like they weren't even there,"**_ Cold said, looking down at Optimus like his frozen state was a scientific curiosity._** "Kinda like how you are normally. I mean, you weren't the one who trained them, or went on all the missions they're famous for, or came swooping in when they needed it most. You just tell them to go die for you. Again, and again, and again, and again. They're breaking, bleeding, and **_**burning**_** in your name all the time, and have been for **_**so**_** long. Tell me, **_**how**_** many times did you have a chance to end the war by killing your brother? And how many times did you try to change his mind, or just… Let him go? Had to be hundreds. Probably thousands, actually. Always thought Primes were supposed to be willing **_**sacrifice**_** for the good of their people."**_

The Prime was like a statue.

"_**Now, let me tell you what I mean by that. I've heard of these old Primes—they were around **_**way**_** back in the day—and they were incredibly powerful. Everyone revered them for their wisdom and leadership. Well, until one of them decided he wanted to be the supreme dictator of the planet, and convinced most of the population that he was in the right. Then opinions were kinda mixed. Anyway, these Primes had to fight the rogue one. Even kill him, just to stop the war. Isn't that incredible?"**_

No response.

"_**What I find so great about that, is the other Primes didn't even hesitate before going after him. They just did it. Stopped their war before it claimed trillions of lives. Very inspiring. And selfless."**_ Cold leaned forward, so he was staring into Optimus' optics. _**"You've never been like that, and you never **_**will**_** be."**_

The Prime couldn't even blink.

Cold looked away from Optimus' faceplate, focusing on the Omni Saber held in the Prime's servo. His optics lit up greedily. _**"Oh. Is **_**that**_** a Shard?"**_ He reached out.

Then _took_ the Omni Saber from Optimus' frozen servo. It did not crumble to dust as it should have when a non-Prime touched it.

Cold held the Omni Saber appraisingly, inspecting it. He swung it experimentally, but frowned, dissatisfied. His servo sparked with light, then the Omni Saber shifted and moved. Like a Cybertronian shifting mass to transform, only a dozen times more complex. It extended out and broadened, coming to be almost as long as the Star Saber was. Its overall appearance remained the same, despite changing in size.

Once it was finished changing, Cold swung it again. This time, he smiled. _**"This is a very nice Shard. I think I'll keep it. You don't mind, right?"**_

He paused, as if waiting for an answer. When none came as expected, he smiled again. _**"Somehow I **_**knew**_** you wouldn't mind."**_ He stepped away from Optimus, heading toward the open space bridge.

But then he stopped, catching sight of Arcee. _**"Ah. So **_**you're**_** Orphan-Three."**_ He gave her a quick look up and down. _**"You're probably considered a pretty little thing among your kind, aren't you? I admit that I think I understand why that would be."**_

Arcee wasn't even listening to him, CPU as focused on the frame of her courted as much as her optics were.

Cold stepped closer and leaned down so he was at her audio receptor. Then he whispered softly, _**"How does it **_**feel?**_** Losing **_**everyone **_**you care about? And to start losing them so **_**early**_** in life. With your own parents, too."**_

Arcee's reverie was broken by Cold's words. She focused on every word he just said, and any words that may have come after. What was he saying about her creators? She knew they were offline. Why the conspiratorial whispers?

Somehow, Cold saw her change in attention. He laughed at something, long and hard and genuinely. He sobered himself eventually, making a show of wiping at his optics, as if cleaning imaginary tears. _**"I'm sorry; I should have more control of myself. But it's just so… **_**Funny**_**. You have no clue what I'm talking about. All this time, and you **_**still**_** don't know about them. You should probably get on that, read up on the topic. I recommend asking your sisters about it. Oh, wait. I forgot."**_ He laughed again, the distorted sound filled with a sadistic glee.

Arcee felt anger well up within her. Consuming, fiery, pained anger. He _dared…_

Cold returned to his full height, resuming towering over her. _**"Well, as positively **_**enlightening**_** as this conversation has been, I must be off. I have places to be. Fareterribly."**_ He turned and started walking toward the space bridge.

Something deep down in Arcee _snapped._ All the times she'd failed. All the people she'd lost. All the hurt she'd experienced in her life. It was all too much. She felt that consuming anger pour over her conscious thought, smothering it like it had never been there before. The anger took control of her, driving her, motivating her. Breaking her. She wasn't going to have her pain thrown in her faceplate _one more time._

Her servo twitched.

Cold came to a stop.

Arcee made a fist, then one of her entire servos became free. A sound like shattering glass filled the room.

Cold turned to her then; and in his multi-lensed optics, Arcee could see shock in them. _Real_ shock, just a little. Barely noticeable in such a minute quantity, but there.

Arcee's other servo came free shortly after. Then she could turn her helm. One by one, each part of her frame became free; and each time a part started moving, it sounded like glass was shattering. Her entire chassis was soon free, and she fell to a knee-joint, feeling weak, strained. Like she had fought a hundred battles in a row without recharge.

The shock in Cold's optics vanished, and he tilted his helm to the side and back. _**"Oh, aren't you a feisty one. Admirable trait, but foolish. Mostly because you aren't planning ahead of time. I mean, what's next? Are you going to start slapping me?"**_

Instead of dignifying him with words, Arcee screamed and jumped to her pedes, servo-blades deployed by the time she was up. She rushed forward—a small, blue and pink blur across the floor—jumped up, and sliced Cold across the faceplate. She followed her first cut with another at the neck, blade cutting into the armor there.

She kicked off his chestplates before he could react, flipping through the air and landing back on her pedes. Arcee rushed him again before he could do anything, and cut at his tank and pede, and sent another swipe at his side. She jumped back in preparation for the downward cut she knew he'd throw, anger driving her to plan five steps ahead.

But then the swing never came.

Her anger waned, and she paused. Cold was still standing in the same place, not reacting. None of the wounds she thought she'd given him were visible.

Cold raised an optic ridge, tilting his helm further. _**"I'm sorry, but was that supposed to **_**hurt**_** me?"**_ Light appeared on his servo, and he waved it dismissively.

Arcee was sent flying across the room like she had grown jets. She collided with the wall far behind and above the workstation, and the rock _caved_ against her. She created a hole in the wall where she shattered the stone, then was buried by rock above her that became unstable. The rock didn't move at all once it finished filling the hole.

Cold waited to see if there would be movement at any point after that, but there wasn't. He chuckled once. _**"Crazy bitch."**_ He turned away and moved to the space bridge again, but stopped dead in his tracks at the obstacle in front of him.

Shadowstreaker was _standing up._ He paid no attention to the wounds to his frame, and his optics were shining gold.

And in his servo, there was a ball of white light.

_"_No._"_ The word came from Shadowstreaker, but it wasn't his voice that spoke it. He aimed the light at Cold.

Cold urgently raised the Shard he had taken. But he knew he didn't react in time, hadn't seen it fast enough. He had been too slow.

The ball of light hit Cold in the chestplates, turning most of them into white ashes instantly. A massive, gaping hole was left in Cold's chestplates that went through him completely, allowing the Delphic to float free of his frame.

Cold collapsed to his knee-joints then, dropping the Omni Saber next to him. He could feel himself losing power rapidly, his frame shutting down without its power source—the Delphic. He hadn't even been able to use its power. But he had been _so close._ It was agonizing to fail when he had been _feet_ from winning.

Cold raised his helm to gaze at Shadowstreaker, as the Triple-Changer prepared to fire another ball of light. Then he _roared._ Not in anger or rage, or even pain. But in pure, black _hatred._ The lights in the room _burst_ from his roar.

The second ball hit Cold in the faceplate, cutting off his roar and vaporizing his helm. His powerless frame fell the rest of the way to the floor.

After Cold finally fell, the space bridge deactivated, computer rebooting. Optimus was released in the same moment, but he did not stay upright. He collapsed as well, optics darkened, and didn't move.

Shadowstreaker didn't even look in the Prime's direction. He lowered his servo to his side, then his optics returned to being totally powerless. He tilted backward slowly, and landed squarely on his backplates. His fall left the ops center in darkness.

Nothing happened for several micro-klicks, then the computer came alive again as it finished rebooting. Then Bulkhead contacted base. _"Hey, Bulkhead here. Can I come back with the kids? They're getting pretty bored with the drive. Raf and Jack also don't appreciate off-roading much. I think they might puke soon. Hehe."_

No one answered the green Wrecker's statement.

He waited for a response for longer than necessary, then tried again, _"Hello? Anyone going to say something? Kinda waiting on an answer, here."_

There was nothing.

"_... Hello…?"_

The ops center was dark. All was still. All was silent.

Like a grave.

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**... I got nothing.**

**IMPORTANT NOTE BEGINS HERE:**

**So, as many - and most of - you know, I have been trying to write my own original novel along with my fanfiction stories. The result has been... Less than satisfactory. For all stories. I have come to the conclusion that I am not like a lot of other writers and authors, and just can't juggle multiple, epic-scale projects at once. It only took my about 1 year and 8 months to accept that, but I finally have.**

**This is going to affect Fate Calls dramatically.**

**As much as I absolutely _love_ writing this story - and want to write more on Last of the Wyrms - I just can't make a living off them. I really _wish_ I could, but realistically I can't. This means that logically, I need to place something that potentially could be life-changing (I honestly would be happy just to be considered an actual author). I need to my original work first.**

**So as much as I don't want to, I need to put Fate Calls on the back burner for a while. Not (keyword _not. _N.O.T. Not.) forever. I will be returning once I've finished my first original book, and will still be hanging around on the site to talk, read, review, and maybe post a one-shot or two on here or on DeviantArt (getting to the rewrites of early chapters of Fate Calls are also possible). I still very much want to keep going on this story (I have so much freaking plot left to give you all), but I _need_ to write a novel. It's something I feel in my bones, and all the previous efforts I've mentioned on here were mostly me writing on it for a week or two, then focusing entirely on an update to this story or Last of the Wyrms (well, at least _one_ update on that one). Now, it's going to be a lot more to the novel.**

**I really hope you all understand, and will return once I finish my novel and get back to writing Fate Calls. There's a lot left I want to get to with this story, so let's all hope I fly through what I want to do with my novel so I can get back. :)**

**Oh, and by the way, some things in this chapter were intentionally made to appear as bad as possible. I put emphasis on appear. I will say nothing else.**

**IMPORTANT NOTE ENDS HERE:**

**One last thing, the song featured in this chapter was one I made myself. It is not from a band or group or singer; just me. And as such, I intend to keep it. So do not use it without my permission. (I kinda need to say this).**

**This chapter's credit song is "Fieldwork - This is Not the End" This song is slower, but carries a haunting tone to it, and at times feels sad and tragic. I think it fits quite well with the ending.**

**Now, I must be off to write my novel. I will be back. In the meantime, please take the time to leave a review to send a PM to me. The more feedback I am given, the better I know where I need to improve.**

**Thank you all for reading, and I hope you are having a wonderful day/night. And also, you're awesome.**

**See you soon.**


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